The Art of Forgiveness 1978701365, 9781978701366

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The Art of Forgiveness

The Art of Forgiveness Edited by Philip Halstead and Myk Habets

LEXINGTON BOOKS/FORTRESS ACADEMIC Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books/Fortress Academic Lexington Books is an imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.rowman.com 6 Tinworth Street, London SE11 5AL, United Kingdom Copyright © 2018 The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Halstead, Philip, 1962– editor. Title: The art of forgiveness / edited by Philip Halstead and Myk Habets. Description: Lanham : Lexington Books/Fortress Academic, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018040120 (print) | LCCN 2018046014 (ebook) | ISBN 9781978701366 (ebook) | ISBN 9781978701359 (cloth : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Forgiveness—Religious aspects—Christianity. | Forgiveness of sin. Classification: LCC BV4647.F55 (ebook) | LCC BV4647.F55 A7825 2018 (print) | DDC 234/.5—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018040120 TM The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Acknowledgments Introduction: The Art of Forgiveness Philip Halstead and Myk Habets

vii ix

Part I: Theological and Biblical Foundations 1

2

“To Err Is Human, to Forgive Is Divine”: The Ontological Foundations of Forgiveness Myk Habets

3

Drawing Pictures in Water: The Place of Penitence in the Art of Forgiveness Kit Barker

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3

The Unforgivable Sin in the Old Testament? Csilla Saysell

4

“To See Your Face Is Like Seeing the Face of God”: Pastoral and Systemic Reflections on Forgiveness and Theosis in the Jacob Story Jonathan R. Robinson

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A Second Temple Context for Jesus’ Teaching on Interpersonal Forgiveness Richard Neville

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67

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The Art of Forgiveness in Luke’s Gospel Sarah Harris

87

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Forgiveness: An Anabaptist Perspective Mark S. Hurst

99

8

The Limitations of Forgiveness David P. Gushee

109

Part II: Practical and Applied Perspectives 9

“Making All Things New”: Why Innovation Matters for Forgiveness L. Gregory Jones

123

10 Forgive and Forget Justice: The Tension Between Justice and Forgiveness Stephanie Worboys

139

v

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11 An Ongoing Oxymoron: Can Anger Coexist with Forgiveness in Christian Responses to Ongoing Injustices? Belinda Jacomb

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12 Siphiwo Mthimkhulu, Daniel Grootboom, and the Art of Forgiveness David Tombs

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13 Sharing the Meal of Forgiveness: Eucharist, Communal Boundaries, and the Dispute over Homosexual Practice Dale Campbell

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14 Te Tiriti o Waitangi: An Act of Forgiveness Alistair Reese 15 From Whiteness Towards Witness: Revelation and Repentance as Unbelonging to Empire Andrew Picard 16 Journeying through Forgiveness When It Really Hurts Philip Halstead Index About the Contributors

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Acknowledgments

The editors would like to thank several people who have contributed to the birth of this important book. First, the contributors to the volume and those who participated in the conference which was the genesis for the book. Your enthusiasm, expertise, and vulnerability enabled the project to succeed. Thank you. We would also like to acknowledge Charles Hewlett, past principal of Carey Baptist College, for first coming up with the idea of a forgiveness conference. As was often the case, your creativity and insights bore fruit for many of us. Andy Campbell is acknowledged as the one who came up with the title The Art of Forgiveness. Thank you. Suzanne Irwin formatted the text and subedited the manuscript with great care and Gareth Bezett complied the index. Thank you. We acknowledge the Carey community that continues to sponsor rigorous research focused on the pressing needs of the day. And, finally, we acknowledge you, the reader, for taking the time to read and reflect on this book and, hopefully, to put it into action. Philip Halstead Myk Habets Doctor Serviens Ecclesiae

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Introduction The Art of Forgiveness Philip Halstead and Myk Habets

Forgiveness is an art. This assertion and emblematic metaphor accentuate that forgiveness has innumerable hues and endless expressions. It is neither formulaic, nor simplistic. Rather, it is a multifaceted concept that typically requires knowledge, effort, and grace if it is to be engaged with successfully. Portraying forgiveness as an art also indicates that there are numerous features, states, and stages in people’s forgiveness journeys. And whilst expertise in forgiveness may be obtained, its mastery is impossible, as every scenario is distinct and elicits new questions and unique responses. Forgiveness is a fundamental human need. It taps into innate and intense human longings. Griswold puts it this way: “Nearly everyone has wronged another. Who among us has not longed to be forgiven? Nearly everyone has suffered the bitter injustice of wrongdoing. Who has not struggled to forgive?” 1 What makes forgiveness even more pressing is the fact that the negative effects of unprocessed wounds regularly affect our relationships with God, others, ourselves, and life in general. Forgiveness is also a key Christian tenet. It constitutes a pivotal component of both God’s gracious initiative and loving response to people in regard to their sins. When forgiveness is properly comprehended and applied, it can heal people’s wounds and thus positively change their transpersonal, interpersonal, and intrapsychic relationships. Observations of this nature lead to a range of critical questions that demand investigation. Examples include: “Do the motives of violators and/or the ramifications of their offenses affect forgiveness?” “Are some offenses too small or large to forgive?” “How does one actually forgive?” “How can we receive forgiveness?” “What can forgiveness realistically achieve?” And perhaps more tacitly, “What is God’s perspective on forgiveness?” Given the importance of this topic a conference was convened in 2015 at Carey Baptist College and Graduate School in Auckland, New Zealand under the name The Art of Forgiveness. The international conference drew together a range of Christian scholars and ministry practitioners from a ix

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wide variety of disciplines including those of biblical studies, theology, psychology, sociology, philosophy, Māori studies, and peace studies. The conference was also enriched by the first-hand accounts of individuals who had been deeply wounded by others and those who had either received forgiveness or offered it, often in the face of distressing life circumstances. As we listened to their stories we clearly understood that considering forgiveness from a perspective of deep hurt is a very different mode of viewing forgiveness than that of looking at it from a conceptual standpoint only. C. S. Lewis understood this well when he penned the following: [One of the most unpopular of the Christian virtues] is laid down in the Christian rule, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Because in Christian morals “thy neighbor” includes “thy enemy”, and so we come up against this terrible duty of forgiving our enemies. Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive, as we had during the war. And then, to mention the subject at all is to be greeted with howls of anger. It is not that people think this too high and difficult a virtue: it is that they think it hateful and contemptible. “That sort of talk makes them sick,” they say. And half of you already want to ask me, “I wonder how you’d feel about forgiving the Gestapo if you were a Pole or a Jew?” So do I. I wonder very much. Just as when Christianity tells me that I must not deny my religion even to save myself from death by torture, I wonder very much what I should do when it came to the point. I am not trying to tell you in this book what I could do—I can do precious little—I am telling you what Christianity is. I did not invent it. And there, right in the middle of it, I find “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.” There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms. 2

The various contributions in what follows range across the scholarly and applied canvas of life over which forgiveness can be painted. This rich tapestry of voices constitutes the heart of this volume. The contributions which follow are divided into two sections with each comprising eight chapters. The first is entitled “Theological and Biblical Foundations.” Part I attempts to “draw pictures in water,” as one contributor, Kit Barker, puts it. Here the biblical material and the Christian tradition are consulted for the resources by which forgiveness is to be understood and practiced. Through considering what a truly theological ethic looks like, that is, a Christocentric commitment within a Trinitarian context (chapter 1, Habets), the various biblical and theological issues are then able to be addressed: the place of penitence (chapter 2, Barker), the unforgivable sin in the Old Testament (chapter 3, Saysell), the place of progress into God, or theosis (chapter 4, Robinson), the Jewish background to Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness (chapter 5, Neville), how Luke frames the art of forgiveness (chapter 6, Harris), an Anabaptist perspective (chapter 7, Hurst), and

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finally, an exploration of the limitations of forgiveness (chapter 8, Gushee). In part 1 the canvas and paints are readied, as it were, and the subject is settled into place; but the painting has only just begun. In part II, “Practical and Applied Perspectives,” the real artwork begins as the contributors offer their unique perspectives (brushstrokes) to the canvas. The place and importance of innovation is outlined (chapter 9, Jones), the tension between forgiveness and justice is traversed (chapter 10, Worboys), the ongoing place of anger is presented (chapter 11, Jacomb), the painful examples from the context of South African apartheid are exposed (chapter 12, Tombs), hospitality and homosexuality are brought into conversation (chapter 13, Campbell), the Treaty of Waitangi, unique to Aotearoa New Zealand, is discussed and presented as a resource for forgiveness (chapter 14, Reece), closely followed by another contextual example of forgiveness in relation to racism in Aotearoa (chapter 15, Picard), and finally, a model for how forgiveness might be practiced in the most difficult situations (chapter 16, Halstead). After sixteen essays our artistic efforts come to completion and like any good work of art, we offer this piece to the public for their reflections, insights, and engagement. No one has the last word on forgiveness, for forgiveness is not a word but an action, a series of actions, a commitment, a gift, and a task. In Christ and by his Spirit, all the resources are there, but still it takes wisdom and skill; forgiveness is an art after all. NOTES 1. Charles L. Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007), xiii. 2. C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (London: HarperCollins, [1952] 2001), 115–16.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Griswold, Charles L. Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity. London: HarperCollins, [1952] 2001.

Part I

Theological and Biblical Foundations

ONE “To Err Is Human, to Forgive Is Divine” The Ontological Foundations of Forgiveness Myk Habets

CONDITIONAL FORGIVENESS Forgiveness is at the heart of the Good News of the Kingdom of God, the message Jesus preached, and the apostolic testimony contained in Holy Scripture. And yet the notion of forgiveness is a complex one, especially in its social and interpersonal relations, not to mention the dogmatic aspects, at the heart of which lies the fact that God forgives humanity independent of humanity’s repentance. The Christian literature on forgiveness is dominated by the interpersonal aspects of repentance and forgiveness and, while useful, tends to ignore the dogmatic aspects. The relative absence of the ontological basis of forgiveness in the actions of God in contemporary discussions of forgiveness tends to turn repentance and forgiveness into a contractual relationship which distorts both the notion of God’s forgiveness of creatures and interpersonal forgiveness. Only by returning to the ontological foundations of forgiveness found in the external works of God, especially in the Incarnation, can a proper basis be found for then conducting interpersonal forgiveness. This chapter seeks to articulate such ontological foundations by adopting a theology of the vicarious humanity of Christ as a heuristic tool for addressing the practice of interpersonal forgiveness. Forgiveness entails both gift and demand. Out of his bountiful plenitude God forgives and demands that those forgiven do the same (Luke 3

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6:37; Matt 6:15). C. S. Lewis understood this well when, in Mere Christianity he explained that one of the most unpopular of the Christian virtues is laid down in the Christian rule, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Because in Christian morals “thy neighbour” includes “thy enemy”, and so we come up against this terrible duty of forgiving our enemies. Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive, as we had during the war. And then, to mention the subject at all is to be greeted with howls of anger. It is not that people think this too high and difficult a virtue: it is that they think it hateful and contemptible. “That sort of talk makes them sick,” they say. And half of you already want to ask me, “I wonder how you’d feel about forgiving the Gestapo if you were a Pole or a Jew?” So do I. I wonder very much. Just as when Christianity tells me that I must not deny my religion even to save myself from death by torture, I wonder very much what I should do when it came to the point. I am not trying to tell you in this book what I could do—I can do precious little—I am telling you what Christianity is. I did not invent it. And there, right in the middle of it, I find “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.” There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms. 1

Forgiveness is modelled by God and is to be enacted amongst his creatures. Forgiveness is at the heart of the Christian Gospel. It goes hand in hand with love, mercy, and grace, the fundamental theological virtues. However, forgiveness is not an easily understood practice, despite its relative ease of semantic definition, and it is an even harder virtue to practice. Forgiveness is not a simple or univocal concept. We may speak of forgiveness between individuals or amongst communities, forgiveness might be conceived in legal terms, such as forgiving a debt, or it might be enacted in personalist terms, such as forgiving a friend’s failure to attend a social event. Depending on the harm suffered, forgiveness takes a number of forms and is enacted in a number of degrees. New Testament scholar Christopher Marshall adopts the following definition of forgiveness: Forgiveness is what happens when the victim of some hurtful action freely chooses to release the perpetrator of that action from the bondage of guilt, gives up his or her own feelings of ill will, and surrenders any attempt to hurt or damage the perpetrator in return, thus clearing the way for reconciliation and restoration of relationship. 2

Marshall notes the five features of forgiveness entailed in such a definition. First, forgiveness is the response of victims; second, forgiveness is something freely given to the perpetrator; third, forgiveness is also release for the victim; fourth, forgiveness does not repay in kind; and finally, forgiveness is fulfilled in reconciliation. In a remarkable and useful

“To Err Is Human, to Forgive Is Divine”

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work entitled Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis, L. Gregory Jones describes forgiveness as “not so much a word spoken, an action performed, or a feeling felt as it is an embodied way of life in an everdeepening friendship with the Triune God and with others.” 3 Drawing upon a wide range of resources, from film to fiction, Jones shows the diverse settings or narratives in which forgiveness belongs. It naturally belongs in our churches, for example. Church communities ought to be cities of refuge for sinners, busy with the traffic of forgiveness, busy with people learning the “craft” of forgiveness—ordinarily by getting apprenticed to a master forgiver or two. The idea is that saints ought to teach forgiveness to saints-in-training. In the church we should be rehearsing the forgiveness of sins like pianists, practicing the hard parts over and over till we get them right. Embodying forgiveness is the basic thesis for Jones and has as its basis the Trinitarian being of God. Jones writes: I argue in this book that the overarching context of a Christian account of forgiveness is the God who lives in Trinitarian relations of peaceable, self-giving communion and thereby is willing to bear the cost of forgiveness in order to restore humanity to that communion in God’s eschatological kingdom. That is, in the face of human sin and evil, God’s love moves toward reconciliation by means of costly forgiveness. In response, human beings are called to become holy by embodying that forgiveness through specific habits and practices that seek to remember the past truthfully, to repair the brokenness, to heal divisions, and to reconcile and renew relationships. 4

Jones integrates the practices of interpersonal forgiveness with the Trinity as he articulates what a trinitarian account of forgiveness looks like—an embodied forgiveness patterned after God’s own relations with the world. Together Marshall and Jones provide a compelling overview of what forgiveness is and how it may be enacted in interpersonal relations. Accounts of forgiveness offered by the likes of Marshall and Jones are excellent resources for interpersonal forgiveness, offering theologically rich insights and recommending deeply effective practices for the church to embody. But upon what basis is forgiveness here conceived and in what power might an individual be able to embody such practices? What is required in order to support and make sense of such interpersonal forgiveness is an articulation of the prior ontological basis of forgiveness. How does God forgive and in what ways is that the basis of our practices of forgiveness? When forgiveness is first considered in its properly theological context, it may then be applied to interpersonal forgiveness, and only then might certain virtuous practices be inculcated and lived out amongst citizens of the Kingdom of God.

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COVENANT OR CONTRACT? Initiated during the program of Enlightenment, modern accounts of Christianity have become increasingly individualized and instrumentalized. Reflecting more of a legal contract than a faithful covenant relationship, modern accounts of salvation have adopted a form of godlike agency for individual humans in which faith and repentance are made a condition for God’s forgiveness. 5 According to this account, when an individual asks for forgiveness and so repents, and places their faith in God, then, and only then, God is moved to forgive the sinner and treat them as a child of God. The important point here is that God is moved to forgiveness by the penitence of the individual. If there is no repentance, then only the wrath of God remains. It is hard to see how faith and repentance, in such a theology, is not a work, and thus it would be hard to avoid the conclusion that modern Protestantism (Roman Catholicism has its own versions of this in its sacramentalism) exhibits all the essential features of what is historically known as semi-Pelagianism (works righteousness). When this faulty view of forgiveness is translated into the interpersonal realm, the result is that one person will only forgive another if they repent: that is, the repentance of one person conditions the forgiveness of another. Clearly, another ontological foundation for forgiveness is required; one more closely derived from Scripture. Thankfully, such an alternate account is available, one in which God forgives sinful creatures unconditionally and this is the basis upon which repentance can be made by an individual in the first place. Such an account will be briefly sketched below. In an influential article published in 1970, Scottish theologian James Torrance offered a prescient argument against what he called a contractual view of God as opposed to the biblically revealed covenantal view of God. His was a trenchant and articulate plea for the church to recover its trinitarian and Christocentric focus and be faithful to God’s self-revelation. 6 Torrance clearly defined covenant as “a promise binding two people or two parties to love one another unconditionally,” while a contract is “a legal relationship in which two people or parties bind themselves together on mutual conditions to effect some future result.” 7 Torrance makes the clear case that Scripture is steeped in covenantal language and illustrates several different forms of covenant; the two most prominent being a bilateral covenant and a unilateral covenant. A bilateral covenant is between two equal parties whilst a unilateral covenant is between two unequal parties (in Ancient Near East studies these latter covenants are referred to as Suzerain-Vassal treaties). Torrance made the case that God’s dealings with humanity in Scripture are by means of covenant and not of contract. “Divine covenants have their source in the divine initiative, in the loving heart of God. God conceives the covenant, God an-

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nounces it. God confirms and establishes it and carries it through to fulfilment, and the motive is love.” 8 For this reason we speak of the Covenant of Grace when we speak of God’s redemptive dealings with humanity. It is a covenant not conditioned by anything in humanity, but is wholly founded on the love of God. This covenant has been made for us in Christ and God has provided for us in Christ “who from our side, in our name, on our behalf, as our great High Priest, has made the one true Response for us and for all men (‘for us and our children’) and is our One True Offering before God.” 9 Herein lies the central significance of knowing God as the covenant and not the contractual God, namely, that God unilaterally enters into loving covenant with humanity and in Christ fulfils the role of the perfect penitent, thus reconciling all people to himself. Torrance is quick to point out that this does not mean no response is required from individual people. A response of faith and love is required, but again, this must be seen squarely from within a unilateral covenant wherein God makes a perfect response for us in Christ and we must freely respond in love and accept the offer and live into the reality by faith. Love always brings obligations but the obligations of love are not the conditions of love. 10 Understanding God as the covenant-God and not a contract-god is central to genuine Christian belief and right living. When God does not require humanity to accrue merit in exchange for grace, and when God’s costly grace is not turned into conditional grace, a properly evangelical view of repentance and forgiveness is possible. CHRIST’S ONTOLOGICAL SOLIDARITY WITH HUMANITY One of the foundational doctrines the modern church has lost is a robust and realistic Christology in which, because of the Incarnation, all humanity is in ontological solidarity with the incarnate Son of God. In the Garden God made Adam and Eve in his image (Gen 1:26) and in a theological gloss on the creation account in John 1 we read that in the beginning was the Word who has now become flesh and dwells amongst us (John 1:1, 14, 18). Further theological commentary on the creation account is offered by Paul in Philippians 2:5–11 and Colossians 1:15–20. In both texts we read unequivocally that Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God, is the image of the invisible God. Taking these three texts together, John, Philippians, and Colossians (not to mention a host of others), we are to conclude that Jesus Christ was, is now, and will always be the Image of God in an exclusive sense. A Christological anthropology, as it is called, is thus required by a close reading of Holy Scripture. 11 All other humans are thus to be rightly considered as images of the Image, and so an imago Christi is more appropriate to the biblical record than an imago trinitatis.

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Several corollaries follow from the axiom that Jesus Christ is the Image of God. First, Jesus has to be seen as the archaeological and teleological image of what it means to be human. That is to say, he is the image into which we were created, from the beginning, and because of his resurrection from the dead and ascension to Heaven, he is the Image into which we are being conformed, from glory to glory. Second, Adam, Eve, and the rest of the human race are images of the Image of God. This relativizes all attempts to define what the imago Dei is that are formulated independently of the person of Christ. Third, all humanity is in some way ontologically united to Christ in creation (physical birth) and recreation (spiritual birth). Fourth, what Christ does implicates all humanity. Fifth, a theology of salvation and sanctification must derive from Christology, and not from some logico-deductive scheme whereby if we do this (repent) then God will do that (save). Other implications of a radically Christological theology follow, but these are enough for our purposes. Important for our discussion of forgiveness is the result of Christ’s ontological solidarity with humanity. In his life, death, and resurrection, Christ assumed human nature and became a man, but a man for others. As the Image of God and not simply an image, one among many, Jesus’ life takes on universal (and eternal) significance. Initially he is understood to represent all Israel, he is their Messiah, Immanuel. As the Gospel narratives progress we see that Jesus is indeed Israel’s Messiah but not only theirs, he is both Messiah and Savior of the world. In his perfect life all human life is made right before God, in his sinless death for us he saves all human flesh, and in his resurrection from the grave he lifts all humanity up in him to share in his salvation. What Christ does, he does for us, Jew and Gentile, slave and free, man and woman. A venerable theological tradition refers to this as the “blessed or wonderful exchange” whereby Christ took what was ours and gave us what was his, he exchanged our sin and alienation for his perfection and sonship. 12 As Thomas Torrance articulates this: The blessed exchange involved between the divine-human life of Jesus and humanity has the effect of finalizing and sealing the ontological relations between every person and Jesus Christ . . . since in him divine and human natures are inseparably united, then the secret of every person, whether they believe or not, is bound up with Jesus for it is in him that human contingent existence has been grounded and secured. 13

This “secret” Torrance mentions is the ontological basis of being human. To be human is to be in ontological solidarity with Christ. In layman terms we might say that we are God’s possession precisely because we are made in the image of Christ and into his image we will be further conformed. Of course this is not to imply a necessary and dogmatic universalism in that all will then be saved. That would be a misapplication of

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this teaching. But it is to say that every human, by virtue of being human, is in relation to Christ and that implies the love and grace of Christ and not simply wrath and judgment. Torrance is again helpful in explicating this theme when he writes: In Jesus Christ God has actualized his unconditional love for you in your human nature in such a once for all way that he cannot go back upon it without undoing the Incarnation and the Cross and thereby denying himself. Jesus Christ died for you precisely because you are sinful and utterly unworthy of him, and has already thereby made you his own before and apart from your ever believing in him. He has bound you to himself by his love in a way that he will never let you go, for even if you refuse him and damn yourself in hell his love will never cease. 14

Reconceiving humanity as being in ontological solidarity with Christ is not a new or novel idea, but can be traced back to Scripture itself and then throughout the Tradition. One of the most evocative discussions of this position was given by John Calvin. Briefly examining Calvin’s contribution will allow some critical observations to be made in concluding this chapter. EVANGELICAL REPENTANCE As indicated earlier, much of modern Christianity has succumbed to a semi-Pelagian construal of salvation whereby a contractual God demands a prior response (faith and repentance) from humanity in order to condition God’s forgiveness. This theology exhibits a consistent theme of co-redemption, especially in more popular forms of Christianity. The result of this way of thinking is to throw the individual back upon themselves to question the strength of their faith, the depth of their love, and the sincerity of their repentance. Instead of pointing people to Christ who saves, this “gospel,” which is no Good News at all, points people back to themselves such that the joy of salvation, the assurance of hope, and the love of God are all eclipsed. The antidote to such thinking is not, as many might think, a strictly determinist theology whereby God elects a select few individuals to salvation and chooses to damn the rest. This was the response of the Federal Calvinists of the seventeenth century and beyond. There is a middle-way between these two extremes, however, one that keeps Christ at the center and considers human agency from a Christological point of view. Wrestling with the conditions of the late middle-ages, the Protestant Reformer John Calvin faced a similar situation with the Catholicism of his day as we do today with popular Christianity. Roman Catholicism had by this stage turned faith and repentance into works which merited the grace of God for salvation. Trading on what we have termed here a

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contractual view of God, the Catholicism of the time had an elaborate system for acquiring merit, from the buying of indulgences through to the regular observance of the sacraments, to the doing of good works (penance). Earlier than Calvin, Martin Luther had initiated a reaction to such semi-Pelagianism and (inadvertently) established a protesting church. As a second-generation Reformer, Calvin was able to carry on the impetus of this protesting reform of the church. Calvin understood that repentance had become a legal requirement for the reception of God’s forgiveness. Repentance involved the sacrament of penance which often required the penitent to perform works of service in order to acquire enough merit to be forgiven by God. Calvin reacted to this situation and offered a thoroughly biblical theology of faith and repentance along with divine forgiveness. What Calvin objected to looks remarkably similar to what is practiced today amongst many forms of popular Protestantism. 15 An idea originally derived from a fellow reformer, Martin Bucer, Calvin distinguished between a “legal repentance” and an “evangelical (Gospel) repentance.” Legal repentance involved a certain disposition to sin, a grieving over one’s sinful actions, and having contrition of heart. It was an existential thing, a deeply moving emotional response to one’s sin, but, and this is the important point, it was not true repentance for it was not a consequence of faith and did not bring the penitent to turn to Christ. Instead, the penitent was turned to acts of penance which were thought to accrue merit and condition God’s forgiveness. True Gospel repentance involves not simply an emotional response to sin, but, rather, a turn to God (metanoia) and a reception of his prior forgiveness of sin. 16 “In Calvin’s account of evangelical repentance, it is God’s mercy that leads a person to repent, not human repentance that leads God to be merciful.” 17 Repentance is, according to Calvin, “a true turning of our life to God, a turning that arises from a pure and earnest fear of him; and it consists in the mortification of our flesh and of the old man, and in the vivification of the Spirit.” 18 Repentance flows from faith and while distinct, is never to be thought of as able to be separated from it. Evangelical or Gospel repentance is thus when the sinner is afflicted by sin as the Spirit convicts and is then moved to lay hold of Christ and receive his forgiveness. As Andrew Torrance states: For Calvin, it is in light of the fact that the triune God has taken away our sin in Christ that we are summoned to faith and repentance. Contra legal repentance, evangelical repentance denies that it is our penitent action that summons God to forgive us and restore us. It is only by the Spirit of God reconciling a person into union with Christ, that she participates in forgiveness and restoration: the forgiveness and restoration that has already been accomplished for her in the person and work of Christ. 19

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Calvin provides a number of examples of both legal and evangelical repentance, examples offered by Bucer, Melanchthon, and others before him. Though wounded by sin and stricken by the dread of God’s wrath, the legal repentant is caught in this disturbed state and is unable to extricate themselves from it. Biblical examples of this include Cain, Saul, and Judas. “While Scripture recounts their repentance to us, it represents them as acknowledging the gravity of their sin, and afraid of God’s wrath; but since they conceived of God only as Avenger and Judge, that very thought overwhelmed them.” And what good did this do them? According to Calvin, “Therefore their repentance was nothing but a sort of entryway of hell . . .” 20 Gospel repentance, however, is seen in those who “made sore by the sting of sin but aroused and refreshed by trust in God’s mercy, have turned to the Lord.” 21 Examples here include Hezekiah, King David, and the apostle Peter. Repentance for Calvin cannot be a meritorious work which conditions God’s forgiveness for only the person savingly united to Christ by the Spirit can exercise faith in God and repent. 22 Gospel repentance is genuinely Good News for we find that the motive for repentance is the prior forgiveness of God. THE PERFECT PENITENT Accepting the truth of the covenanting God, of Christ’s ontological solidarity with humanity, and of evangelical repentance, the question of how one is able to be repentant still lingers. Here we must appeal to the doctrine of the vicarious humanity of Christ. Christ in our humanity offers a perfect vicarious response to the love and judgment of God. Believers respond personally through the Holy Spirit, who enables them to participate in Christ’s own response made on their behalf. Christ’s work is of no avail for believers apart from participation in his person. Hence, in the Incarnation Christ unites himself with us by taking our humanity into union with himself. In our humanity he repented, believed, and died for all. By the Spirit we are united with him to participate in his vicarious response (“perfect repentance”) 23 which, in turn, is a response offered in our humanity. In order to avoid turning repentance into a legal contract with God we must understand that Jesus Christ is God’s exclusive language to humanity as well as humanity’s exclusive language to God. 24 However, as C. S. Lewis points out in his chapter on Christ as the perfect penitent, we have a problem. As Lewis stated: This process of surrender—this movement full speed astern—is what Christians call repentance. Now repentance is no fun at all. It is something much harder than merely eating humble pie. It means unlearning all the self-conceit and self-will that we have been training ourselves

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Myk Habets into for thousands of years. It means undergoing a kind of death. In fact, it needs a good man to repent. And here’s the catch. Only a bad person needs to repent: only a good person can repent perfectly. The worse you are the more you need it and the less you can do it. The only person who could do it perfectly would be a perfect person - and he would not need it. 25

The only answer to this dilemma is, of course, to have a God-man be both God’s word to humanity and humanity’s word to God. This we have in the Incarnation. Fallen humanity is unable to respond to God as it should, making reconciliation impossible; the Fall has affected the very core of our being. In this light, Christ is the divinely provided human through whom reconciliation is made available. Faith and repentance are only properly exercised by Christ, not by the individual human person, and conversion, worship, and even evangelism must be seen in the same way. 26 For many the natural implication is that human action is undermined. But, Thomas Torrance argues, this is to misunderstand the logic of grace—all of grace does not mean to imply nothing of humanity: all of grace equals all of humanity. 27 According to Torrance the vicarious humanity of Christ means that only Christ’s response is ultimately valid, our penitential responses to God must therefore be subsequent to and be located within his. All other responses to God are excluded because Christ is the ground and the norm of our response to God. In a manner reminiscent of John McLeod Campbell and Karl Barth, Torrance argues that in Jesus Christ we have God’s “yes” and “no” to humanity. 28 Jesus Christ was not only the fulfilment and embodiment of God’s righteous and holy Act or dikaioma, but also the embodiment of our act of faith and trust and obedience toward God. He stood in our place, taking our cause upon him, also as Believer, as the Obedient One who was himself justified before God as his beloved Son in whom he was well pleased. He offered to God a perfect confidence and trust, a perfect faith and response which we are unable to offer, and he appropriated all God’s blessings which we are unable to appropriate. Through union with him we share in his faith, in his obedience, in his trust and his appropriation of the Father’s blessing; we share in his justification before God. 29

C. S. Lewis puts this in plain language: But supposing God became a man—suppose our human nature which can suffer and die was amalgamated with God’s nature in one person—then that person could help us. He could surrender His will, and suffer and die, because He was man; and He could do it perfectly because He was God. You and I can go through this process only if God does it in us; but God can do it only if He becomes man. Our attempts at this dying will succeed only if we men share in God’s dying, just as

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our thinking can succeed only because it is a drop out of the ocean of His intelligence: but we cannot share God’s dying unless God dies; and he cannot die except by being a man. That is the sense in which He pays our debt, and suffers for us what He Himself need not suffer at all. 30

By becoming one with humanity and paying the debt for our sins Lewis does not mean to imply that it is the death of Christ on the cross alone that is of saving significance, as opposed to the entire life, death, and resurrection of Christ. For Lewis as much as for Torrance, the faith of Christ, the repentance of Christ, the sinless life of Christ, the death of Christ, and the resurrection of Christ are all done “for us and our salvation” as the Creed states. This is what it means to develop a truly evangelical doctrine of repentance and in so doing, develop a truly evangelical doctrine of forgiveness. Andrew Purves, writing on Christ’s vicarious penitence states: Christ’s response to the Father in his confession of our sin on our behalf is the predicate of the ontological relation between the Father and the Son that is worked out savingly through the Incarnation, the consequence of which is the atonement. It is saying too much that the atonement consists only of this vicarious confession, it would be saying too little of Christ’s confession of our sin if it were not to be accepted as an aspect of the atonement that is faithful to Christ’s ministry to the Father on our behalf. 31

THE GOSPEL OF FORGIVENESS A properly theological account of forgiveness starts with the triune God and moves through Christology to anthropology. In many respects, as we have seen above, Christology is in fact our theological anthropology, as in Christ true human faith and repentance are made and through Christ the forgiveness of God is achieved. In Christ God has already provided the perfect human response. This means that our response of faith and repentance is a participation in a response already made by the incarnate Son. Contemporary accounts of forgiveness that fall back upon a contractual view of God lead people away from God and issue in forms of legal repentance, whereas a covenant view of God leads the penitent to Christ and in his response to the Father finds an evangelical repentance which releases humanity from any demands to earn God’s grace and forgiveness, allowing us to offer ourselves back to God in freedom. 32 The love and forgiveness of the triune God are the ontological foundations upon which interpersonal forgiveness might then be found.

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NOTES 1. Clive S. Lewis, Mere Christianity. The C. S. Lewis Signature Classics Edition (London: Collins, 2012), 115–16. 2. Christopher D. Marshall, Beyond Retribution: A New Testament Vision for Justice, Crime, and Punishment (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 264, see Christian Duquoc, “The Forgiveness of God,” Concilium 184, no. 2 (1986): 42–43. 3. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), xii. 4. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, xii. 5. Douglas Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 26–27, develops a number of themes and traces this modern view back, at least, to John Locke’s contractualism. 6. James B. Torrance, “Covenant or Contract?: A Study of the Theological Background of Worship in Seventeenth-Century Scotland,” Scottish Journal of Theology 23, no. 1 (1970): 51–76. Torrance’s context for making this case were developments in Scottish Presbyterianism since the seventeenth century. 7. Torrance, “Covenant or Contract?,” 54 (emphasis original). 8. Torrance, “Covenant or Contract?,” 54–55. 9. Torrance, “Covenant or Contract?,” 55. 10. Torrance, “Covenant or Contract?,” 56. 11. See a defense of this reading of Scripture and a catalogue of thinkers throughout the Tradition who teach this in Marc Cortez, Christological Anthropology in Historical Perspective: Ancient and Contemporary Approaches to Theological Anthropology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2016). Cortez’s work shows that this has been the dominant view in Christianity until the modern period. 12. The basis of this doctrine was first articulated by Irenaeus (Against Heresies 5 pref.) and Athanasius (On the Incarnation 54), and is echoed by many others such as Calvin (Institutes 4.17.2). 13. Thomas F. Torrance, The Trinitarian Faith: The Evangelical Theology of the Ancient Catholic Church, Cornerstones Series (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016), 182–83 (slightly altered to include inclusive language). 14. Thomas F. Torrance, The Mediation of Christ, new enlarged edition (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992), 103–4. 15. Evidence to support this conclusion on popular forms of Protestantism evidencing a semi-Pelagian theology can be found in Alexandra S. Radcliff, The Claim of Humanity in Christ: Salvation and Sanctification in the Theology of T. F. and J. B. Torrance (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2016), 23, 73–75; and Jeff McSwain, Movements of Grace: The Dynamic Christo-realism of Barth, Bonhoeffer, and the Torrances (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2010), passim. 16. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, Library of Christian Classics, vols. 20–21, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford L. Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), 3.3.4. 17. Andrew B. Torrance, “John Calvin and James B. Torrance’s Evangelical Vision of Repentance,” Participatio supplement vol. 3 (2014): 144. 18. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 3.3.5. 19. Torrance, “John Calvin and James B. Torrance’s Evangelical Vision of Repentance,” 141. 20. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 3.3.4. 21. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 3.3.4. 22. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 3.3.21. 23. According to A.B. Bruce in The Humiliation of Christ (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1895), 319–20, the concept of “vicarious repentance” is first found in Rupert of Deutz (c. 1075–1129). Subsequently the theme is found in John McLeod Campbell, The Nature of the Atonement, rev. ed. (1856; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans/Edinburgh: Hansel Press, 1996), was espoused by R. C. Moberly, Atonement and Personality (London: Murray,

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1917), was popularized by Lewis, Mere Christianity, 53–59, and finds its most robust articulation in the work of Thomas F. Torrance (see for instance Thomas F. Torrance, Scottish Theology from John Knox to John McLeod Campbell [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996], 305–8). Differences between each proponent are discussed in Christian D. Kettler, The Vicarious Humanity of Christ and the Reality of Salvation (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1991), 187–204. 24. Thomas F. Torrance, Reality and Evangelical Theology (1982. Reprint, Downers Grove: IVP, 1999), 88. 25. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 56–57. 26. For an illustration of this theology see Christian D. Kettler, The God Who Believes: Faith, Doubt, and the Vicarious Humanity of Christ (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2005), and his earlier work, The Vicarious Humanity of Christ and the Reality of Salvation. 27. Thomas F. Torrance, “The Atonement: the Singularity of Christ and the Finality of the Cross: The Atonement and the Moral Order,” in Universalism and the Doctrine of Hell, ed. N. M. de S. Cameron (Carlisle: Paternoster, 1992; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992), 225–6. 28. For defenses of Campbell’s theology see Christian D. Kettler, “The Vicarious Repentance of Christ in the Theology of John McLeod Campbell and R. C. Moberly,” Scottish Journal of Theology 38 (1985): 529–43 and James B. Torrance, “The Contribution of McLeod Campbell to Scottish Theology,” Scottish Journal of Theology 26 (1973): 295–311. 29. Thomas F. Torrance, Theology in Reconstruction (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 159. 30. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 58. 31. Andrew Purves, Exploring Christology and Atonement: Conversations with John McLeod Campbell, H. R. Mackintosh, and T. F. Torrance (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2015), 164. 32. Radcliff, The Claim of Humanity in Christ, 26.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Bruce, A. B. The Humiliation of Christ. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1895. Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Library of Christian Classics, vols. 20–21. Edited by John T. McNeill. Translated by Ford L. Battles. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960. Campbell, Douglas. The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009. Campbell, John McLeod. The Nature of the Atonement. Revised edition. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Edinburgh: Hansel Press, 1996. Cortez, Marc. Christological Anthropology in Historical Perspective: Ancient and Contemporary Approaches to Theological Anthropology. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2016. Duquoc, Christian. “The Forgiveness of God.” Concilium 184, no. 2 (1986): 35–44. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995. Kettler, Christian D. “The Vicarious Repentance of Christ in the Theology of John McLeod Campbell and R. C. Moberly.” Scottish Journal of Theology 38 (1985): 529–43. ———. The Vicarious Humanity of Christ and the Reality of Salvation. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1991. ———. The God Who Believes: Faith, Doubt, and the Vicarious Humanity of Christ. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2005. Lewis, Clive S. Mere Christianity. The C. S. Lewis Signature Classics Edition. London: Collins, 2012. Marshall, Christopher D. Beyond Retribution: A New Testament Vision for Justice, Crime, and Punishment. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001.

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McSwain, Jeff. Movements of Grace: The Dynamic Christo-realism of Barth, Bonhoeffer, and the Torrances. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2010. Moberly, R. C. Atonement and Personality. London: Murray, 1917. Purves, Andrew. Exploring Christology and Atonement: Conversations with John McLeod Campbell, H. R. Mackintosh, and T. F. Torrance. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2015. Radcliff, Alexandra S. The Claim of Humanity in Christ: Salvation and Sanctification in the Theology of T. F. and J. B. Torrance. Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2016. Torrance, Andrew B. “John Calvin and James B. Torrance’s Evangelical Vision of Repentance.” Participatio supplement vol. 3 (2014): 126–47. Torrance, James B. “Covenant or Contract?: A Study of the Theological Background of Worship in Seventeenth-Century Scotland.” Scottish Journal of Theology 23, no. 1 (1970): 51–76. ———. “The Contribution of McLeod Campbell to Scottish Theology.” Scottish Journal of Theology 26 (1973): 295–311. Torrance, Thomas F. Theology in Reconstruction. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965. ———. “The Atonement: the Singularity of Christ and the Finality of the Cross: The Atonement and the Moral Order.” Pages 223–254 in Universalism and the Doctrine of Hell. Edited by N. M. de S. Cameron. Carlisle: Paternoster, 1992; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992. ———. The Mediation of Christ. New enlarged edition. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992. ———. Scottish Theology from John Knox to John McLeod Campbell. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996. ———. Reality and Evangelical Theology. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1982; repr., Downers Grove: IVP, 1999. ———. The Trinitarian Faith: The Evangelical Theology of the Ancient Catholic Church. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016.

TWO Drawing Pictures in Water The Place of Penitence in the Art of Forgiveness Kit Barker

FORGIVENESS IS CONDITIONAL Defining Forgiveness Ten years ago Richard Briggs noted, “Forgiveness is a subject which, rather surprisingly, has suffered from considerable neglect in philosophical and theological reflection.” 1 While the situation is improving, it appears that there is much work yet to be done. Writing in 2015, Anthony Bash comments: It is strange that interpersonal forgiveness, which is so widely regarded as fundamental to Christian identity and discipleship, is relatively neglected in academic theological literature. I cannot find modern books that offer a detailed theology of forgiveness set in a biblical context. . . . On the whole, interpersonal forgiveness is remarkably under-researched. It is the Cinderella of theology. 2

An interdisciplinary volume such as this is an important contribution to the discussion and I am thankful for the opportunity to participate. 3 As you will notice, the chapters of this volume reflect a variety of perspectives and, not surprisingly, a variety of opinions regarding the nature and art of forgiveness. This is an eminently important topic. Our understanding of forgiveness has profound implications for how we relate to others, how we process wrongdoing in our own life and in the lives of those around us, and how we understand our relationship with God. 17

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My aim is to defend forgiveness as an interpersonal and conditional action, requiring a context of both wrongdoing and penitence. While such models of “conditional forgiveness” are well supported, particularly in moral philosophy, they appear less popular in theology and psychology. 4 Throughout this volume, you will encounter the alternate position, that forgiveness is intrapersonal (unilateral and unconditional), an action performed primarily within oneself. In contrast, I believe that forgiveness is not only inappropriate in the absence of repentance but that it is actually impossible. There are a number of other actions that, as Christians, we are called to perform in the face of impenitence, but forgiveness is not one of them. As Christians, we are in a unique position to construct a portrait of forgiveness. Unlike secular scholars who must assume particular presuppositions and virtues in order to shape their position, we can rely upon Scripture to provide us with both instruction pertaining to forgiveness and portraits of it. 5 Thus, my defense of interpersonal and conditional forgiveness will present biblical and theological evidence in its support. That forgiveness requires a context of penitence is not alien to our thinking. In fact, it is fundamental to the gospel message: God forgives those who repent and believe in Christ. God certainly loves sinners, provides the means for their forgiveness, and offers them forgiveness. However, God does not simply, and unilaterally, forgive everyone’s sin. 6 He forgives in the context of a relationship. He requires that we accept his gift of salvation in faith and penitence. 7 Moreover, the absence of penitence brings divine judgment. Thus, the question is not whether forgiveness is ever conditional, because it clearly is in the case of divine forgiveness. The question is whether human forgiveness is similar to divine forgiveness in this manner or radically different. I suggest that human forgiveness is modelled after divine forgiveness. 8 Like divine forgiveness it is a response to a penitent wrongdoer that says, “At cost to myself, I accept your apology and no longer count that offense against you.” 9 In order to present forgiveness as a conditional, interpersonal action I will also utilize the resources of speech act theory to provide some descriptive precision. I will interact with popular models of unconditional forgiveness and briefly discuss the biblical portrayal of forgiveness with reference to a number of key texts. Finally, I will make some observations about the importance of getting this language right and the implications for justice and pastoral care. Forgiveness Is a Strong Speech Act Speech act theory is a sub-discipline of the philosophy of language that provides an anatomy of interpersonal communication and clarifies what we do (and so mean) in speaking. It will be helpful at this point to

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provide a brief description of its basic features. 10 Speech act theory isolates three types of linguistic actions that can occur when we communicate verbally: the locutionary act—the uttering of the words; the illocutionary act—what we do in uttering the words (understood as the meaning of the sentence); and the perlocutionary act—what effect this has on the audience. 11 Speech act theorists generally agree that the meaning of a sentence or text is what we do with the words, not simply the uttering of words themselves. The following example may be helpful. Suppose I say to my children, “It’s cold outside.” The locution is simple. It’s a sensible sentence and one commonly uttered. What the utterance means, however, is not so simple. If my daughter had asked me, “What’s the weather like today?” then the sentence is likely nothing more than a simple assertion. However, imagine my eldest son is about to leave for school wearing only a shirt and pants when the temperature outside is eight degrees Celsius. My statement, “It’s cold outside,” is not merely or even primarily an assertion. Rather, it’s a request that he put on something warmer before he leaves. Alternatively, if my youngest son had just asked me to have a water fight on the lawn, my locution, “It’s cold outside,” is at the very least a protest and more likely a rejection of his kind request. Context creates meaning. Thus, the words we say and the sentences we create can mean innumerable things because we can do innumerable things with them in different contexts. 12

Applying this theory to the act of forgiveness proves illuminating. The example above demonstrates that context defines action and action is congruous with meaning. In the case of forgiveness, the words can be uttered (i.e., the locution “I forgive you” can be performed), but, the action, and so the meaning, is determined by the context of that locution. My argument is that forgiveness requires a specific context in order for it to occur. In this way, it is an example of a strong speech act (i.e., strong illocution). Strong illocutions differ in a number of ways from standard illocutions such as the declaration “It’s cold outside” or the request “Please pass the salt.” Standard illocutions require little context and do not significantly change the world of those persons involved (e.g., in the latter case above you simply need “out of reach” salt and another person). Conversely, strong illocutions require both a high level of established context and have a significant effect on lives of those involved. For example, a declaration by a judge that a defendant is “guilty” requires at the very least a judicial system, an offending party, and a judge who has been granted the authority to make such declarations. Most importantly, standard illocutions may or may not result in the desired perlocution (e.g., you may refuse to pass the salt), yet strong illocutions are so rulegoverned that they ensure the perlocution 13 (e.g., once declared guilty by the judge, you become guilty, irrespective of your desire or response). The relationship is consequential so that once the strong illocution is

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uttered, a change occurs in the reality of the persons involved. In other words, because the requisite, high level of context has been established, the illocutionary act automatically results in the desired perlocutionary act. 14 I suggest that forgiveness is a strong speech act, and as such it requires a complex context. When enacted in this context, it automatically occurs, resulting in a significant change to the reality of those involved. 15 While one can utter the words, “I forgive you,” unless a number of other conditions are already satisfied then the action is at best ineffective and at worst, offensive. In the absence of these conditions, the speech act misfires. It has not worked. 16 This is obvious in various instances: a declaration of forgiveness to a complete stranger; or perhaps the person uttering “I forgive you” is doing so to provoke the other person who, in reality, has not committed any wrong against them. Similarly, I suggest that if someone is actually intending to forgive an offender, yet the offender remains impenitent, then while the words can be uttered, the action is not performed. 17 The victim may have intended to forgive, but their declaration could not “work” because the requisite context had not been set. A Japanese proverb captures the concept with an image, “forgiving the unrepentant is like drawing pictures in water.” You can draw all you like, but nothing changes. In order for forgiveness to be performed, the context must be established. I suggest that this context is one of interpersonal communication where the offender has both acknowledged their wrongdoing and repented of it. Before presenting the biblical and theological basis for my position, I will address the alternate view that forgiveness be understood as intrapersonal and unconditional. MODELS OF UNCONDITIONAL FORGIVENESS Human Forgiveness Is Unconditional but Divine Forgiveness Is Conditional That forgiveness is dependent upon a context of repentance is not universally or even widely accepted. Worthington et al. represent the common view that forgiveness is unconditional: Interpersonal forgiveness is meant to be unilateral, not contingent on or waiting for the offender to accept responsibility, confess, apologize, make restitution, ask for forgiveness, and completely turn from the sinful and harmful acts. Divine forgiveness is linked to human repentance but interpersonal forgiveness is not. 18

These authors argue that forgiveness is always required, irrespective of the attitude of the offender. However, they recognize that this is not the case when God forgives, conceding that divine forgiveness only oc-

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curs in the context of penitence. It is “linked to human repentance.” Worthington states elsewhere, Interpersonal forgiveness, within the Scriptures, is unconditional, whereas Divine forgiveness is conditional. Divine forgiveness is based on Divine truth, justice, mercy, and love, which are granted from an omniscient, merciful, and just God. Because God knows people’s hearts, God can condition forgiveness on people’s repentance. Nonomniscient humans are called to forgive unconditionally. 19

While there are differences between human and divine forgiveness (the details of which are beyond the scope of this chapter) to suggest that one is conditional and the other is unconditional is to suggest they are vastly different actions. Such an assertion warrants further explanation and, in light of divine forgiveness, incurs the burden of proof. Worthington suggests that God can conditionally forgive because he alone knows if the offender is truly repentant, whereas we are always called to forgive because we cannot be sure if the offender is ever truly repentant. However, it would seem obvious that if someone is impenitent, then it is hardly necessary to second-guess his stance towards the wrongdoing. Alternatively, if he repents, then granting him the “benefit of the doubt” would be the appropriate response (cf. the command in Matt 18:22 that the offended forgive the offender seventy times seven times). 20 Worthington’s position is unconvincing and yet it represents a common understanding of Christian responsibility: God forgives only when we repent, yet we are called to forgive unconditionally, irrespective of repentance and even in the face of continued oppression. This account of forgiveness fails to account for the nature of forgiveness as it is presented in Scripture. Those who suggest that human and divine forgiveness require different contexts have failed to demonstrate that this is, in fact, the case. Those who suggest that neither divine nor human forgiveness requires a context of penitence have not sufficiently explained why God continues to judge and punish the impenitent. 21 Furthermore, the evidence provided to support human forgiveness in the absence of penitence is unconvincing. As I will demonstrate below, none of the examples provided definitively portray forgiveness occurring in either the absence of penitence or a context of impenitence. Human and Divine Forgiveness Are Unconditional Miroslav Volf offers a creative solution by suggesting that divine and human forgiveness are the same kind of action and that both are unconditional. However, he also suggests, somewhat confusingly, that while God ultimately forgives everyone, not everyone is forgiven. Unlike the previous account, Volf argues that neither human nor divine forgiveness

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require a context of penitence. He likens forgiveness to a gift that is given but is yet to be “unwrapped.” God’s gift [of forgiveness] was given, it was sent. But that’s not enough. We need to receive it. . . . Without faith and repentance, we are not forgiven—God having done the forgiving notwithstanding. God has given, but we haven’t received. Forgiveness is then stuck in the middle between the God who forgives and humans who don’t receive. 22

Now apply the same analogy of a gift stuck in the middle to human forgiveness. If they imitate the forgiving God, forgivers will keep forgiving, whether the offenders repent or not. Forgivers’ forgiving is not conditioned by repentance. The offenders’ being forgiven, however, is conditioned by repentance—just as being given a box of chocolates is conditioned by receiving that box of chocolates. Without repentance, the forgivers will keep forgiving but the offenders will remain unforgiven, in that they are untouched by that forgiveness. 23 To summarize Volf’s position, divine and human forgiveness are the same kinds of action. We are called to imitate God’s forgiveness by continually and unconditionally forgiving. However, despite our forgiveness, the offender may not actually be forgiven. This will only happen if the offender truly repents. If they remain impenitent, the “gift” of forgiveness remains unopened, and they are not forgiven. Forgiveness, in this case, is “stuck in the middle.” I see a number of problems with Volf’s description. First, it is confusing to suggest that one can forgive the wrongdoer but that the wrongdoer is not forgiven unless they repent and accept forgiveness. How is the first act of forgiveness actually forgiveness? Once again, speech act theory illuminates the problem. While the locution “I forgive you” can be uttered in a context of impenitence, if it is uttered with the intention of enacting forgiveness then it has “misfired.” This is the flaw in Volf’s metaphor of gift. One can deliver a gift and one has performed the action of gifting. Gifting is a unilateral act. Forgiveness, on the other hand is a more complex interpersonal activity. As Volf himself maintains, forgiveness is interpersonal, “an event between people.” It does not occur when only one party desires it or offers it. While an offended party can unilaterally offer forgiveness, calling the act of offering forgiveness “the act of forgiving” is inaccurate and confusing. 24 Volf’s explanation reveals this tension when he states, “the offenders’ being forgiven, however, is conditioned by repentance.” The second problem with Volf’s description is that he wants to affirm forgiveness as interpersonal, yet his explanation divorces the activity of the participants. In other words, the offended party can state, “I forgive you” and the offender can reply “I don’t want your forgiveness.” In this situation, has forgiveness occurred? If it has, then it is not an act between

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people. If it has not, then the forgiver’s words are impotent, since forgiveness has not actually occurred. Volf expresses this contradiction in the last sentence of the above quotation: “Without repentance, the forgivers will keep forgiving but the offenders will remain unforgiven, in that they are untouched by that forgiveness.” 25 The fundamental problem is that while Volf correctly states that human forgiveness reflects divine forgiveness, he also argues that God continually forgives all people despite their impenitence. This makes God’s forgiveness either impotent or coercive. Forgiveness is either largely meaningless as the unrepentant remain unforgiven, or it is coercive with the unrepentant being forgiven despite their willful rebellion. Volf’s explanation indicates the former; God’s forgiveness does not actually effect forgiveness. 26 Volf concedes that repentance is necessary for the offender to actually be forgiven, so in what sense has God’s forgiveness worked in the absence of such repentance? 27 Can God forgive the unrepentant and still keep them under judgment? It is clear that God loves the world despite its rebellion, but it is far from clear that God forgives the world despite its impenitence. It seems that Volf and others are confusing the act of forgiveness, which requires repentance, with the offer of forgiveness (an act of unconditional love), which is the gospel message. The offer and the act are not identical. In the end we are left with a number of alternatives. Either human forgiveness is different from divine forgiveness (the former being unconditional and the latter being conditioned upon repentance), or human forgiveness is similar to divine forgiveness with both either conditioned by repentance or entirely unconditional. The biblical portrayal of forgiveness is that there is only one kind of forgiveness and that it is conditioned by repentance. Unconditional forgiveness has little support in Scripture. There is no explicit command to forgive offenders who remain unrepentant. There are many commands to forgive (e.g., Mark 11:25), but they either mention repentance explicitly as a condition, or require that it be implied on the basis of (1) the immediate context; (2) those passages where it is explicit; and (3) divine forgiveness, where we see the movements of forgiveness more clearly. 28 Responses to Key Texts Used in Support of Unconditional Forgiveness The vast majority of biblical teaching on forgiveness explicitly refers to repentance as a precursor or it can be inferred from the context. Rather than survey such obvious examples, in the space remaining I will address two key biblical texts commonly offered as loci classici of unconditional forgiveness.

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Matthew 18 Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Matt 18:21–22)

Admittedly, in these verses, repentance is not explicitly mentioned with the call to forgive. However, it should be observed that neither is the offender described as being impenitent. More importantly, the preceding verses (Matt 18:15–19) explain how one should deal with a brother who is repeatedly unrepentant with respect to a matter serious enough to be brought before the whole community. The end result of his stubborn impenitence is exclusion, not forgiveness. 29 Additionally, in the parable that follows, the unforgiving servant is rebuked for not showing mercy when he himself had been the recipient of mercy in far greater measure. In both cases, the plea for mercy demonstrates the penitence of the debtor (vv. 26, 29). In light of this immediate context, the command to forgive in Matthew 18:21–22 clearly implies a context of penitence. Where Matthew’s account is implicit, Luke’s account of the same teaching is explicit: If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them. Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying “I repent,” you must forgive them. (Luke 17:3–4)

This text in Luke 17 should also provide the context for reading the story in Luke 5:17–26 of the paralyzed man who comes to Jesus for physical healing. Jesus both heals the man and pronounces his sins forgiven to the disgust of the Pharisees. The narrative does not directly address the penitence of the paralyzed man. Yet, the text portrays Jesus as knowing the thoughts of those present (5:22) and it also portrays the paralyzed man and his friends as displaying great faith. Since the narrative indicates the presence of faith and the wider text of Luke provides the mechanism for forgiveness (17:3–4), it is clear that penitence is implied. Luke 23 Jesus said, “Father forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34a)

The prayer of Jesus on the cross is often referred to as the example of forgiveness performed in the absence of penitence. However, a number of features suggest that this text does not promote unconditional forgiveness. 30 First, Jesus does not pronounce forgiveness. In contrast to other occasions where he declares the persons forgiven (e.g., Luke 5:17–26 in the example above), in this case, he requests that God forgive the offenders. Second, Jesus’ request is quite specific. He asks that those involved

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not be held accountable for the gravity of the offense, as there was no way they could comprehend the magnitude of their actions. 31 Therefore, rather than understanding this as a request that they be forgiven all wrongdoing connected to his execution, Jesus appears to be requesting that their culpability be limited to what they thought they were doing. 32 Bash concurs, The suggestion that Jesus forgave his unrepentant killers is, in my view, a mistake. Jesus did not forgive those who were putting him to death, but prayed that God would not hold their sin against them. In other words, what he said does not amount to forgiveness of unrepentant people. Rather, it is Jesus’s prayer, asking God to forgive those who had wronged him. For although his killers did know what they were doing (in the sense that they knew they were putting to death a man), they did not know or understand fully the implications of their actions. 33

In light of this, it seems unlikely that one can build a theology of forgiveness upon this text that describes a unique event and does not present forgiveness as formally occurring. Nelson offers a mediating position stating that this is an example of unconditional forgiveness but limited to wrongdoing committed in ignorance. Specifically, he thinks that Jesus is requesting that they not be held accountable for killing “an innocent man.” He claims that Jesus had already forgiven the Roman soldiers and was now “pleading for their vertical [divine] forgiveness.” 34 In the end, Nelson’s entire argument rests on the fact that Jesus forgave human sin against God on two occasions without “any evidence of repentance,” citing Mark 2:5 and Luke 7:48. 35 However, as I mention above, both narratives in question clearly portray the sinners as demonstrating great faith in Jesus. Any suggestion that these people were impenitent lacks substantive evidence. Carson rightly notes that this text should not be determinative for developing a definition of forgiveness. Although Carson believes forgiveness can be unconditional, he warns against using Luke 23:34 as a prooftext when he notes that it cannot be used to “overthrow other things Jesus said or did.” 36 He also concedes that we cannot know how God answered the prayer of Jesus in this regard and that the most important feature of this text is not that it proves forgiveness is unconditional but that it “discloses Jesus’ heart.” 37 Summary While Matthew 18 and Luke 23 are often cited in support of unconditional forgiveness, the evidence from these texts does not sustain such a position. In the former case, conditional forgiveness is implied from its immediate context and from the parallel passage in Luke 17. In the latter case, forgiveness did not formally occur; rather, we witness the desire of

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Jesus that his oppressors be shown mercy. Moreover, it is somewhat ironic to argue for unconditional forgiveness from the crucifixion narrative, for it is here that we find the gospel message clearly articulated. In the following chapter, Luke records the words of the risen Lord Jesus as he explains the significance of the event, “This is what is written: The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem” (Luke 24:46–47). The crucifixion and resurrection make forgiveness possible, not automatic. THE IMPORTANCE OF PROPERLY DEFINING FORGIVENESS Forgiveness and Justice Some might suggest that the distinction between articulating forgiveness as either conditional or unconditional is largely semantic and of little importance. However, this is not the case. Bash notes that unconditional or unilateral forgiveness is not “forgiveness as the Christian Scriptures understand it” yet he persists in calling it forgiveness. In discussing occasions where a wrongdoer is not available to repent, he concludes: When one wants to forgive but cannot (e.g., because the wrongdoer is not known or if the wrongdoer denies having done wrong) moving on in the way I have described can be of great personal benefit to a victim. It may involve a form of forgiveness that, though no more than in the mind of the victim, is offered to a wrongdoer and not necessarily known about or received by the wrongdoer. This sort of forgiveness is sometimes called “unilateral forgiveness.” It does not bring about a restored relationship. Neither is it forgiveness as the Christian Scriptures understand it, since the restoration of ruptured relationships is not within its scope. Nevertheless, it is a form of forgiveness, though muted and limited, and can be necessary for the psychological health of the victim. For similar reasons and in similar circumstances, I believe it is possible for a repentant wrongdoer to “self-forgive” if the victim cannot be identified or if the victim will not offer forgiveness. 38

I do not think Bash and those who hold a similar position have fully appreciated the significance of naming this action “forgiveness,” even if it is of a “muted and limited” quality. To name an event is a powerful action and when the event is harmful to others, how we name it is particularly important. Naming shapes our integration of the event and enables us to process it in the best possible manner. Consequently, there are a number of implications for articulating (and not articulating) forgiveness as conditional. Articulating forgiveness as a conditional act requiring a context of penitence promotes justice and compassion in a number of ways.

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First, conditional forgiveness justly labels the offense as an offense and is predicated by the offender having done the same. When forgiveness is declared in a context where an offender has admitted their offense and repented, forgiveness not only works (in the formal “speech act” sense), but it also grants the victim a minimum degree of justice in the offense being recognized for what it is. 39 Consequently, to pressure or demand that victims forgive impenitent offenders is to force victims to forgo what little justice they can receive in this life. Unfortunately, such a demand also trivializes the offense by asking victims to simply continue living as if the offense never happened. Second, conditional forgiveness is an act of justice in that it honors the moral stance that the offender has taken with respect to their wrongdoing. Forgiving the penitent acknowledges the new stance of the offender towards their offense and accepts their apology. In this case, forgiveness is an act of justice in that the offense has been taken with sufficient seriousness. It has not been forgotten or ignored; rather, the action has been deemed sufficiently harmful that it warrants apology and/or restitution. Both the withholding of forgiveness and the subsequent enactment of forgiveness honor the moral stance of the wrongdoer. However, enacting unconditional forgiveness rejects the offender’s desire to remain unforgiven. It does not take seriously either the offender’s moral agency or their stance toward the situation. Forgiveness cannot and should not be imposed upon the impenitent. Nicholas Wolterstorff concurs, “in the absence of repentance, to enact the resolution not to hold the deed against the wrongdoer is to insult him and to demean oneself, thereby wronging both alike.” 40 The victim may offer forgiveness, as I will discuss below, but they cannot formally or justly enact forgiveness. Third, conditional forgiveness acts justly towards the offender, allowing them to be confronted with their offense and offering them an opportunity to respond. The offer of forgiveness informs the offender of the alleged offense, alerting them to how the action has been perceived. Alternatively, since unconditional forgiveness is unilateral and often done in private it can circumvent justice for the accused, since to forgive someone is, first of all, to judge them. As Volf rightly states, “to forgive is to name the wrongdoing and to condemn it.” 41 When forgiveness is performed privately and unconditionally, the forgiver acts as jury and judge without granting the alleged offender the opportunity to respond to or even be aware of the charges. In cases where the “offender” has been misjudged, forgiveness would be entirely inappropriate and the alleged offender might never be aware of the unjust treatment. In cases where the offender had actually committed an offense, “forgiving” him in private does not confront him with his wrongdoing, 42 nor does it encourage repentance or reconciliation. 43 Augsburger comments:

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Kit Barker Forgiveness as it is frequently practiced is a process of denial, distortion, isolation, or undoing which leads to behaviors of avoidance, distancing, and spiritual alienation. Any stance of superiority, super-spirituality, or unilateral self-sacrifice reduces the possibility of real repentance and reconciliation. 44

Alternatively, conditional forgiveness affirms the interpersonal dynamic, alerting the offender of his “offense” and granting him the opportunity to respond. Fourth, conditional forgiveness promotes justice in that it models divine forgiveness. It offers forgiveness to the offender, but does not pronounce forgiveness in the face of impenitence. Whereas unconditional forgiveness can imply that all forgiveness occurs without penitence, conditional forgiveness accurately depicts divine forgiveness and demonstrates that there is no forgiveness or reconciliation without penitence. Finally, conditional forgiveness promotes reconciliation. As mentioned above, conditional forgiveness allows the offense to be named and the alleged offender to be confronted by the accusation, thus providing an opportunity for reconciliation to occur. In contrast, unconditional, unilateral forgiveness provides little to no opportunity for the interpersonal communication required for the process of reconciliation to begin. Forgiveness and Healing Proponents of unconditional forgiveness often focus on the intrapersonal nature of forgiveness within their model. They believe that forgiveness is not primarily an act between people but an act within oneself that liberates the victim from the offense and allows healing to begin. Such therapeutic models of forgiveness maintain that any articulation of forgiveness that inhibits a victim to forgive an offender will prevent the victim from healing. Clearly, conditional forgiveness, which requires penitence prior to forgiveness, is one such articulation. However, for reasons stated above, I do not believe that unconditional forgiveness is as beneficial as its proponents assert, nor do I believe that conditional forgiveness hinders healing. Unconditional forgiveness imposes forgiveness upon a victim and asserts that if they do not enact forgiveness, then they will likely harbor bitterness and rage that will prevent healing. If, however, the victim forgives the offender (irrespective of penitence), then the victim can find “release” and begin to heal. Contrary to this view, I suggest that encouraging and even forcing a victim to forgive an impenitent offender is not only unbiblical but is itself unhealthy and can constitute a further act of harm. As I mentioned above, forcing unconditional forgiveness upon a victim both trivializes the offense and implies that justice is unnecessary. It trivializes the offense by suggesting that the offender is not required to do anything in response to their offense. The victim, on the other hand,

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now has a moral obligation to forgive the offender and put the offense behind them, “acting as if nothing has happened.” Alternatively, I suggest that articulating forgiveness as a conditional act promotes healing, irrespective of the wrongdoer’s penitence. Clearly, in cases of a penitent offender, forgiveness is necessary, both in terms of obedience to Christ, the maintenance of justice, and one’s own healing. However, withholding forgiveness in the face of impenitence is not only appropriate, but also promotes healing. First, withholding forgiveness in this case names the offense and validates the suffering of the victim. Affirming that the victim has been wronged and validating their pain is a first step toward healing. Second, the options open to a victim are often portrayed in a false dichotomy: either he must forgive the offender or he will harbor bitterness and hatred. However, these are not the only two responses available when faced with an impenitent offender. In fact, neither of these two responses is appropriate and neither promotes healing. When faced with impenitence, I have argued that victims should not (and formally cannot) enact forgiveness. However, neither should they harbor bitterness and hatred. There are other responses to violence and impenitence available to them that are both appropriate and promote healing: surrendering retribution and offering forgiveness. By surrendering retribution to God, the victim is acknowledging God as the sovereign Lord who has both the right and the power to enact judgment and bring justice. 45 Furthermore, by surrendering retribution, the victim also forgoes any acts of violence against the offender (cf. Rom 12:19). Consequently, the victim can find comfort and rest in the knowledge that the offense matters to God, and that he will ensure there is an accounting for all wrongdoing. This also releases the victim of any perception that the pursuit of justice is their responsibility. Surrendering retribution against an impenitent offender promotes healing in the victim. Rather than simply forgiving unconditionally and “moving past” the offense, conditional forgiveness promotes healing by avoiding the trivialization of the offense and providing the victim a cogent reason to “move on” in the knowledge that all wrongdoing will, one day, be made right. While I have been arguing that forgiving the impenitent is both inappropriate and (formally) impossible, I have also made the important distinction between forgiving and offering forgiveness. As I stated earlier, “The offer and the act are not identical.” Where offenders remain impenitent, Scripture never calls for victims to forgive but it does call for them to be willing to forgive, even if the offender sins often and repeatedly (cf. Matt 18:22, “seventy times seven” times). It is in this willingness that “love your enemy” finds full expression and healing for the victim is made possible. In contrast to therapeutic models of forgiveness that understand the act to be intrapersonal (within the victim), I do not believe forgiveness primarily functions as a pathway of healing for a victim. As I have just

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argued, healing is not necessarily dependent upon forgiveness. Forgiveness can certainly contribute to healing, but healing can occur when forgiveness cannot. Forgiveness is primarily about the extension of grace to the offender. It discloses the heart of the victim and can promote healing, especially, as I have argued, when it is enacted in the knowledge of God’s rule. However, forgiveness is primarily an act of judgment and grace. In forgiving, a victim simultaneously names the wrongdoing as such and declares to the penitent that their offense is no longer counted against them. In forgiving, the victim absorbs the cost of the offense. It is an act of judgment and an act of grace. Therefore, to suggest that forgiveness is primarily about healing for the victim reduces the significance and beauty of this most gracious of interpersonal actions. Furthermore, inherent to forgiveness is a context of suffering and loss. It recognizes that whatever restitution may be made, this suffering and loss can never be removed or repaid in full. I fear that therapeutic articulations of forgiveness not only misrepresent the nature of forgiveness, but they can also promote unrealistic expectations of healing, especially when they circumvent justice and trivialize the offense. Forgiveness is costly and its enactment, while promoting healing and restoration, inherently absorbs the cost of the offense. Forgiveness is a painful response to the pain of violence and this pain may not be removed in its enactment. Healing may be realized but it will not be realized in full and not simply because we have decided to unconditionally “forgive” and move on. CONCLUSION Forgiveness is a strong speech act, the performance of which requires the specific context of wrongdoing and penitence. This articulation is supported by Scripture, which portrays God as offering forgiveness, but only forgiving those who actually “repent and believe.” Moreover, continued impenitence brings judgment not forgiveness. This picture of divine forgiveness is determinative. It should shape our understanding of its nature and provide a model for us to imitate. Consequently, forgiveness should be understood as a complex interpersonal activity, requiring the offending party to set the context in which it can occur. This does not preclude the victim offering forgiveness, which is the biblical mandate, but the act of forgiveness is only possible in the presence of penitence. When forgiveness is offered in an interpersonal setting it promotes justice. It names the wrongdoing, allows the wrongdoer recourse for defense or the opportunity for penitence and it accurately models divine forgiveness. In the absence of penitence, forgiveness is not possible. Victims are encouraged to be willing to forgive the impenitent and to offer forgiveness. However, the speech act of forgiveness cannot be performed.

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If it is “enacted” in that context it undermines the stance of the wrongdoer and subverts justice. Forgiveness promotes healing, though healing is not dependent upon it. When faced with an impenitent offender, the victim is encouraged to surrender retribution to God which both precludes vengeance and the harboring of bitterness and rage. While I am convinced that this articulation of forgiveness promotes healing, our healing is not its primary function or concern. Healing in this life is always incomplete, and forgiveness itself involves great cost to the victim. Healing is not dependent upon the offender’s stance but upon the victim’s faith that God has and will right all wrongs. NOTES 1. Richard Briggs, Words in Action: Speech Act Theory and Biblical Interpretation (Bloomsbury: T&T Clark, 2004), 217. 2. Anthony Bash, Forgiveness: A Theology (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015), xi. 3. Portions of this chapter are adapted from Kit Barker, Imprecation as Divine Discourse: Speech Act Theory, Dual Authorship and Theological Interpretation, Journal of Theological Interpretation Supplements 16 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2016), used by permission. See also Kit Barker, “Psalms of the Powerless” in Stirred by a Noble Theme: The Book of Psalms in the Life of the Church, ed. Andrew G. Shead (Nottingham: Apollos, 2013), 205–29. 4. For a survey of forgiveness across theological, philosophical, and psychological fields, see James. K. Voiss, Rethinking Christian Forgiveness: Theological, Philosophical and Psychological Explorations (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2015). While perhaps not in the majority, there are numerous biblical scholars and theologians who understand forgiveness as requiring a context of penitence. See David W. Augsburger, Helping People Forgive (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996); David. W. Augsburger, Caring Enough to Forgive: True Forgiveness; Caring Enough to Not Forgive: False Forgiveness (Ventura: Regal Books, 1981); Chris Brauns, Unpacking Forgiveness: Biblical Answers for Complex Questions and Deep Wounds (Wheaton: Crossway Books, 2008); Don McLellan, “Justice, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation: Essential Elements in Atonement Theology,” Evangelical Review of Theology 29, no. 1 (2005): 4–15; Nicolas Wolterstorff, Justice in Love (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015); Craig L. Blomberg, “On Building and Breaking Barriers: Forgiveness, Salvation and Christian Counseling with Special Reference to Matthew 18:15–35,” Journal of Psychology and Christianity 25, no. 2 (2006): 137–54; Maria Mayo, The Limits of Forgiveness (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015); and Richard Swinburne, Responsibility and Atonement (Oxford: Clarendon, 1989). 5. Contra Anthony Bash who believes that Christians do not hold a superior position in defining the topic. He comments, “Christian theology is not the arbiter of what is or is not forgiveness, though it has much to give to a richly textured description of forgiveness,” Bash, Forgiveness, 141. 6. There are, of course, those who believe that God does forgive all humanity regardless of faith or penitence. Habets’ chapter in the present volume is a case in point. 7. This portrayal of divine forgiveness is consistent throughout the Christian canon. The following texts are representative and span both genre and testament: 2 Sam 12:13–14; Ps 51:16–17; Ezek 18:30–32; Hos 14; Mark 1:15; Luke 13:1–9; 17:3–4; Acts 2:38; 2 Cor 7:10; 1 John 1:9. While there are biblical texts describing forgiveness with no explicit mention of repentance, the overwhelming weight of evidence suggests that these texts must be interpreted in light of those where the fuller description of the

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event is made clear. Moreover, it is often the case that repentance should be inferred due to the faith of those receiving forgiveness. 8. Cf. Matthew 18:21–25. I am not suggesting that human forgiveness is congruent with divine forgiveness in every way, for divine forgiveness “saves” the wrongdoer from eschatological judgment. Human forgiveness foreshadows this event, but does not effect salvation. What I am suggesting, rather, is that both human and divine forgiveness are the same kind of action requiring the same context. 9. There is clearly more that could be said at this point. For example, forgiveness does not mean that the victim forgets the wrongdoing nor does it necessitate that the offender be immediately trusted. The nature of forgiveness and any ensuing reconciliation is highly complex and beyond the scope of this chapter. 10. For a fuller treatment see, Kit Barker, “Speech Act Theory, Dual Authorship, and Canonical Hermeneutics: Making Sense of ‘Sensus Plenior,’” Journal of Theological Interpretation 3, no. 2 (2009): 227–39. 11. John L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975). Though these distinctions are sometimes contested, most scholars are willing to speak in terms of these three components: locution, illocution, and perlocution. 12. Kit Barker, “Lament as Divine Discourse,” in Finding Lost Words: The Church’s Right to Lament, ed. G. Geoffrey Harper and Kit Barker (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2017), 57. 13. For further discussion of “strong” speech acts see Briggs, Words in Action, 64–65. 14. This is not to suggest that forgiveness is a perfect and complete act every time. Bash helpfully discusses the “performative” nature of forgiveness and notes that, while it is ideally irreversible, future events may precipitate the need to revisit the act of forgiveness. He comments, “It is surely foolish to say ‘I forgive you’ and assume that nothing in the future might arise that will re-open the wounds of the past or mean that one has to renew the work of forgiving. One might have been able to forgive what one knows about in relation to a wrong, but if one discovers new information that renders the basis of forgiveness doubtful, the forgiveness can become unforgiveness. Additionally, many of us will have seen someone, or returned to a place, or heard a piece of music that brings back memories about a former unpleasant experience. If that experience relates to having been wronged, one might find that one needs to reengage with having to forgive, or realize that one has more to forgive. People may sometimes be wrong if, after an act of forgiveness, they think they have completed all the work of forgiving that may arise in relation to the wrong. I suggest, therefore, that forgiveness can best be thought of as reversible and revocable, though it should not be offered with this possibility in mind” (Bash, Forgiveness, 47). 15. Briggs, although not referring to the illocution as “strong” notes that forgiveness alters the reality (institutional facts) of both the wrongdoer and the injured party, “one might say that ‘I forgive your debt (to me)’ is the speech act of ‘overcoming resentment’ in the particular sense that the expectation of repayment is abandoned: the speech act alters the institutional fact which is part of the social reality of the forgiver and the forgiven” (Briggs, Words in Action, 242). 16. Of course, the utterance may achieve other things, but it has “misfired” in that the intended illocution has not been performed. 17. In this case, there is a communicative “misfire” and perhaps the utterance can be best described as revealing a desire to forgive and an offer of forgiveness. 18. Everett. L. Worthington Jr. et al., “Interpersonal Forgiveness as an Example of Loving One's Enemies,” Journal of Psychology and Theology 34, no. 1 (2006): 32. Further proponents of forgiveness not requiring repentance include Anthony Bash, Just Forgiveness: Exploring the Bible, Weighing the Issues (London: SPCK, 2011); Randy Nelson, “Exegeting Forgiveness,” American Theological Inquiry 5, no. 2 (2012): 33–58; Lewis B. Smedes, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don't Deserve (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1984); and L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995). Carson also suggests that it is possible for forgive-

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ness to occur in the absence of penitence. He comments, “It is possible for one party to forgive another from the heart while the other party remains hardened in self-righteous bitterness,” and in the footnote below he continues, “there are some kinds of forgiveness in which there is neither repentance nor mutual recognition of repentance” (D. A. Carson, Love in Hard Places [Downers Grove: Crossway, 2002], 73). 19. Everett L. Worthington, “Just Forgiving: How the Psychology and Theology of Forgiveness and Justice Inter-Relate,” Journal of Psychology and Christianity 25, no. 2 (2006): 158–68. 20. I will examine Matthew 18:22 in the discussion below. 21. Cf. Matt 11:20–24. 22. Miroslav Volf, Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006), 182–83. 23. Volf, Free of Charge, 183, emphasis original. 24. This is represented in Volf’s comment quoted above, “If they imitate the forgiving God, forgivers will keep forgiving, whether the offenders repent or not” (Volf, Free of Charge, 183). 25. Volf, Free of Charge, 183. 26. Volf comments, “Should we forgive even those who refuse to repent? Consider once again God’s forgiveness, which serves as the model for ours. There are people who think that in relation to God, repentance comes before forgiveness. But that can’t be right. God doesn’t angrily refuse forgiveness until we show ourselves worthy of it by repentance. Instead, God loves us and forgives us before we repent. Indeed, before we even sinned, Jesus Christ died for our sins. God’s forgiveness is not reactive— dependent on our repentance. It’s original, preceded and conditioned by absolutely nothing on our part. We can do nothing to become worthy of it for the same reason we can do nothing to earn any of God’s gifts. Before we do anything, before we even exist, God’s giving and God’s forgiving are already there, free of charge. God’s giving and forgiving are as unconditional as the sun’s rays and as indiscriminate as raindrops. One died for all. Absolutely no one is excluded” (Volf, Free of Charge, 179–80). 27. In a more recent work he continues with the same line of reasoning yet concedes that wrongdoers remain unforgiven if unrepentant. Volf states, “It is true that repentance—the recognition that the deed committed was evil coupled with the willingness to mend one’s ways—is not so much a prerequisite of forgiveness as, more profoundly, its possible result. Yet repentance is the kind of result of forgiveness whose absence would amount to refusal to see oneself as guilty and therefore a refusal to receive forgiveness as forgiveness. Hence an unrepentant wrongdoer must in the end remain an unforgiven wrongdoer—the unconditionality of the first step in the process of forgiveness notwithstanding” (Miroslav Volf, “Forgiveness, Reconciliation, and Justice” in Stricken By God? Nonviolent Identification and the Victory of the Cross, ed. Brad Jersak and Michael Hardin [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007], 268–86). In this description, God’s offer of forgiveness is “the first step” and requires the wrongdoer to repent in order for forgiveness to be completed. This is a better explanation, but is at odds with his earlier work where he states, “forgiveness is not conditioned by prior repentance” (Volf, Free of Charge, 183). 28. See Blomberg, “On Building and Breaking Barriers,” 144–45. 29. Matt. 18:15–18. Blomberg also argues that the loosing and binding of v. 18 are actually references to forgiveness and the denial of forgiveness respectively and summarize the previous teaching on community discipline (Blomberg, “On Building and Breaking Barriers,” 139). See also Mayo, The Limits of Forgiveness, 3. 30. The originality of this logion is strongly contested as it largely occurs in the Western witnesses and does not occur in consistently reliable early manuscripts. While there continues to be some doubt about the authenticity of the logion, I have presupposed its reliability in order to address the apparent contradiction to my view. For a summary of positions and a compelling defense of its authenticity, see James R. Harrison, “Jesus and the Grace of the Cross: Luke 23:34a and the Politics of ‘Forgiveness’ in Antiquity” (New Orleans: SBL Annual Meeting, 2009). See also Nathan Eu-

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bank, “A Disconcerting Prayer: On the Originality of Luke 23:34a,” Journal of Biblical Literature 129, no. 3 (2010): 521–36; Joshua M. Strahan, The Limits of a Text: Luke 23:34a as a Case Study in Theological Interpretation, Journal of Theological Interpretation Supplements 5 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012). 31. For a defense of a context of “misunderstanding” leading to “unintentional sin” see Strahan, The Limits of a Text. 32. This understanding also informs the interpretation of Stephen’s prayer discussed above. Since Stephen modelled his prayer on that of Jesus, similar conclusions can be made regarding its contribution to a theology of forgiveness. 33. Bash, Forgiveness, 43. 34. Nelson, “Exegeting Forgiveness,” 51–52. 35. Nelson, “Exegeting Forgiveness,” 51–52. 36. Carson, Love in Hard Places, 77–78. 37. Carson, Love in Hard Places, 77–78. 38. Bash, Forgiveness, 38–39, emphasis mine. 39. Bash notes that a penitent wrongdoer cannot fully “put back the clock” but that justice is “good enough” when they repent and do what they can to make it right. He states, “wrongdoers who repent, who are contrite and remorseful, and who (when appropriate) offer reparation demonstrate that they themselves have judged their actions and sought to put right what they can. They stand (as it were) self-condemned, and their self-imposed sentence is to admit and acknowledge the wrong and do what they can to restore the status quo ante. Nothing can fully “put back the clock,” but wrongdoers can use their best endeavors to put things right. This, it seems to me, is good enough justice” (Bash, Forgiveness, 134). 40. Wolterstorff, Justice in Love, 173. 41. Volf, Free of Charge, 129. 42. Cf. Richard Neville’s chapter on Leviticus 19 in this volume. 43. There are, of course, numerous situations where it is both unwise and unsafe for a victim to confront the offender face to face or on their own. In these cases, mediation or some form of correspondence would be necessary. 44. Augsburger, Caring Enough to Forgive, 6. 45. I am indebted to David Firth for the term “surrendering retribution” (David Firth, Surrendering Retribution in the Psalms: Responses to Violence in the Individual Complaints, Paternoster Biblical Monographs [Milton Keynes: Authentic Media, 2005]).

BIBLIOGRAPHY Augsburger, David. W. Caring Enough to Forgive: True Forgiveness; Caring Enough to Not Forgive: False Forgiveness. Ventura: Regal Books, 1981. ———. Helping People Forgive. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996. Austin, John L. How to Do Things with Words. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975. Barker, Kit. “Speech Act Theory, Dual Authorship, and Canonical Hermeneutics: Making Sense of ‘Sensus Plenior.’” Journal of Theological Interpretation 3.2 (2009): 227–39. ———. “Psalms of the Powerless.” Pages 205–29 in Stirred by a Noble Theme: The Book of Psalms in the Life of the Church. Edited by Andrew G. Shead. Nottingham: Apollos, 2013. ———. Imprecation as Divine Discourse: Speech Act Theory, Dual Authorship and Theological Interpretation. Journal of Theological Interpretation Supplements 16. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2016. ———. “Lament as Divine Discourse.” Pages 55–65 in Finding Lost Words: The Church’s Right to Lament. Edited by G. Geoffrey Harper and Kit Barker. Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2017.

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Bash, Anthony. Just Forgiveness: Exploring the Bible, Weighing the Issues. London: SPCK, 2011. ———. Forgiveness: A Theology. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015. Blomberg, Craig L. “On Building and Breaking Barriers: Forgiveness, Salvation and Christian Counseling with Special Reference to Matthew 18:15–35.” Journal of Psychology and Christianity 25, no. 2 (2006): 137–54. Brauns, Chris. Unpacking Forgiveness: Biblical Answers for Complex Questions and Deep Wounds. Wheaton: Crossway Books, 2008. Briggs, Richard. Words in Action: Speech Act Theory and Biblical Interpretation. Bloomsbury: T&T Clark, 2004. Carson, D. A. Love in Hard Places. Downers Grove: Crossway, 2002. Eubank, Nathan. “A Disconcerting Prayer: On the Originality of Luke 23:34a.” Journal of Biblical Literature 129, no. 3 (2010): 521–36. Firth, David. Surrendering Retribution in the Psalms: Responses to Violence in the Individual Complaints. Milton Keynes: Authentic Media, 2005. Harrison, James R. “Jesus and the Grace of the Cross: Luke 23:34a and the Politics of ‘Forgiveness’ in Antiquity.” New Orleans: SBL Annual Meeting, 2009. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995. Mayo, Maria. The Limits of Forgiveness. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015. McLellan, Don. “Justice, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation: Essential Elements in Atonement Theology.” Evangelical Review of Theology 29, no. 1 (2005): 4–15. Nelson, Randy. “Exegeting Forgiveness.” American Theological Inquiry 5, no. 2 (2012): 33–58. Smedes, Lewis B. Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don't Deserve. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1984. Strahan, Joshua M. The Limits of a Text: Luke 23:34a as a Case Study in Theological Interpretation. Journal of Theological Interpretation Supplements 5. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012. Swinburne, Richard. Responsibility and Atonement. Oxford: Clarendon, 1989. Voiss, James. K. Rethinking Christian Forgiveness: Theological, Philosophical and Psychological Explorations. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2015. Volf, Miroslav. Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006. ———. “Forgiveness, Reconciliation, and Justice.” Pages 268–86 in Stricken by God? Nonviolent Identification and the Victory of the Cross. Edited by Brad Jersak and Michael Hardin. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007. Wolterstorff, Nicolas. Justice in Love. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015. Worthington, Everett L., Jr. “Just Forgiving: How the Psychology and Theology of Forgiveness and Justice Inter-Relate.” Journal of Psychology and Christianity 25, no. 2 (2006): 158–68. Worthington, Everett L., Jr., Constance B. Sharp, Andrea J. Lerner, and Jeffrey R. Sharp. “Interpersonal Forgiveness as an Example of Loving One’s Enemies,” Journal of Psychology and Theology 34, no. 1 (2006): 32–42.

THREE The Unforgivable Sin in the Old Testament? Csilla Saysell

In the New Testament the unforgivable sin against the Holy Spirit (Matt 12:31–32; Luke 12:10) raises perennial questions about the nature of such a sin and the possibility of repentance. The Old Testament (OT) produces its own example of what looks like an “unforgivable” sin in the story of Eli’s sons, whose iniquity “shall not be atoned for by sacrifice or offering forever” (1 Sam 3:14). 1 This occasions little comment or anxiety, however, since the abuse of the sacrificial system as practiced by the sons is obscure and, for Christians, an obsolete practice. Nevertheless, a closer look leads to a number of questions. First, why should this particular sin be signaled out as beyond the pale? What exactly is the nature of the sin that makes atonement impossible? Could there have been a way out for Eli’s sons? And, if there is one sin like this, are there others? This chapter will engage the above questions drawing primarily on the story of Eli’s household and some other narratives (most notably David’s famous sin with Bathsheba in 2 Sam 11–12) in order to explore the logic of forgiveness in the OT and particularly its connection to repentance. THE NATURE OF THE SIN What leads to the judgment and downfall of Eli’s household? Hophni and Phinehas are described as “worthless men” (bene veliya‘al), who did not know (i.e., acknowledge, regard) YHWH and the custom of the priests (1 Sam 2:12). The specific sin of the sons is somewhat uncertain because it is unclear whether the practice of “potluck” described in 37

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2:13–14 was itself part of the problem or simply the custom of the day. 2 If the former, then it may suggest greed over and beyond what was prescribed as the priestly portion in the legislation (Lev 7:31, 34; Deut 18:3). There is no question about the second half of the description (2 Sam 2:15–16), however, which clearly indicates greed in wanting the portions before the fat is offered to God and the threat of force in case of noncompliance suggests a brazen attitude. The additional charge of sleeping with the women (2:22), who possibly performed menial tasks around the tabernacle (Exod 38:8), 3 adds sexual immorality to their abuse of the sacrifices. The way the sons ignore their father’s gentle rebuke (1 Sam 2:25) also underlines their arrogance. The first message of judgment delivered to Eli throws further light on the nature of their sin in which Eli himself is implicated. The priestly privilege and God’s generous provision for his household is emphasized, contrasted with the attitude of becoming fat on choice portions of the offerings (vv.28–29). Eli’s behavior is described as kicking or despising (ba‘at) God’s offering. 4 The language evokes Deut 32:15 where it is Israel who grows fat kicking God, who delivered her. Although the only verbal link is ba‘at, the two descriptions are similar conceptually. 5 The image is of becoming sated and self-satisfied to the extent that God’s provision is no longer valued. It is often accompanied by a sense of overconfidence and a lack of dependence on God: one can provide for oneself (cf. Deut 8:11–18) perhaps better than what God has given, so his gifts are seen as insufficient, even negligible. At heart, the attitude of Eli’s household is best expressed with the word contempt. This is explicit in the summary statement of 1 Sam 2:17 using the verb “to despise” (ni’ets) and is reiterated more implicitly in the man of God’s speech where Eli is said to have honored (kibbed) his sons above God (v.29), and in YHWH’s statement that he will honor (kibbed) those who honor (kibbed) him and despise (qalal) those who despise (bazah) him (v.30). These three words (ni’ets, bazah, and qalal) for showing contempt are synonymous and are often used in conjunction with kibbed (to honor) their antonym. The latter has the meaning of making weighty or honoring, glorifying, from the root meaning denoting something heavy, weighty. 6 Its most frequent pair is qalal, which has the opposite sense of being slight, trifling, that is, of little account, 7 and in the piel stem (1 Sam 3:13) means “to designate as too lightweight, contemptible” or “to declare cursed, accursed.” 8 Bazah similarly has the meaning “‘to accord little worth to something.’ While this action may or may not include overt feelings of contempt or scorn, the biblical usage indicates that the very act of undervaluing something or someone implies contempt.” 9 Likewise, the piel stem ni’ets has the sense of “to treat with contempt” from the root meaning in the qal “to fail to perceive, misjudge the significance of something.” 10

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The message given earlier to the man of God is affirmed to Samuel (3:12). Eli is implicated by not rebuking his sons and the sons themselves are described as having “brought a curse on themselves” (meqalelim lahem). This should probably read “because they cursed God” (meqalelim ’elohim), where the desire to avoid a curse mentioned with God’s name resulted in scribal emendation (the initial letter aleph from ’elohim is dropped). 11 Treating God as the object of the curse makes better sense because it provides the reason why the sons are judged (the content of their actions) rather than create a tautology by saying that God will judge them because they brought a curse (judgment) on themselves. In summary, the sins of Eli’s sons are essentially the abuse of a privileged position whereby God’s gifts and person are devalued and despised. THE INEFFICACY OF SACRIFICES The message to Samuel concludes with God’s final verdict that “the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be atoned for by sacrifice (zevaḥ) or offering (minḥa) forever” (3:14). The two expressions for sacrifice are likely to form a merism referring to the entire sacrificial system. 12 As Klein notes, there is a certain poetic justice in the way the sacrifices coveted by the sons and being the occasion of their sin cannot be the means of their expiation. 13 Commentators also frequently connect the impossibility of atonement with the fact that the sins of Eli’s household are not inadvertent for which sacrifices may be offered (Lev 4:1–5:13), but high-handed (i.e., defiant) as explained in Num 15:30–31. 14 This is evident from the arrogant attitude of the sons, as we have seen earlier, but there are also further conceptual links between the sins of Eli’s sons and the description in Num 15:30–31. To this I shall return presently. Before I do, however, I wish to note one more aspect related to the inefficacy of sacrifices. Namely, that intention (inadvertence or defiance) is not the only category that divides sins into those expiable by sacrifice or not. Thus, for instance, manslaughter though unintentional is not eligible for sacrifice. Although Pentateuchal law does not spell out the different legislative spheres, it is implied in the types of punishments prescribed and rabbinic interpretation helpfully draws this out, as follows. First, social crimes against the community are dealt with by an earthly court, not by sacrifices. Secondly, inadvertent or unintentional sins against God are expiated through the sacrificial system in the Temple. Finally, defiant sins against God such as intentional sacrilege and grave sexual sins are attended to by the heavenly court (i.e., God himself). 15 Jurisdictions for some offenses overlap hence serious sexual sins are punishable both by God (Lev 18:24–29) and a human court (e.g., adultery— Deut 22:22–23). It is also the case that where a human court does not bring about justice, God can intervene. Thus, the Molech worshipper not

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stoned by the community will be cut off (hikrit) by God (Lev 20:4–5). It is interesting in this latter example that even though Molech worship is a sin against God, Israel is co-opted into bringing about judgment. This recognizes the fact that even sins primarily against God can have secondary effects on the people. Similarly, we may acknowledge that the sins of Eli’s sons affected the community compromising the worshippers’ offering, abusing the women serving God, and perhaps contributing to the scarcity of God’s revelation (1 Sam 3:1) and the defeat of Israel at the hand of their enemies (4:3). Nevertheless, the reference to the inefficacy of sacrifices highlights not only the defiant character of the sins committed by Eli’s sons but also their nature as offenses primarily against God. This is further underlined by Eli’s comment implying that their sin is against God (2:23–25). Moreover, the punishment promised (2:31–34) is cutting off (hikrit—v.33), which is always a divine penalty. 16 HIGH-HANDED SIN (NUMBERS 15:30–31) As noted above, it is well recognized that the sins of Eli’s sons are defiant and fit into the category of what Num 15:30–31 terms “high-handed sin.” It is nevertheless worth exploring the connections further. Numbers 15:30–31 contrasts unintentional sin with high-handed (beyad ramah) sin. The image of an uplifted arm may indicate a sense of power and victory over enemies. The idea if not the exact wording is most commonly used of YHWH in the phrase “with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm” (be-yad ḥazaqah u-vizro‘a netuyah—e.g., Deut 4:34; 5:15; 26:8) as Israel’s testimony to God’s power to save them out of Egypt. It is a posture of conquerors (including gods) well known in ancient Near Eastern literature and art. 17 The expression identical to Num 15:30 is used of both God and Israel (Isa 26:11; Exod 14:8; Num 33:3; Mic 5:8) in a similar sense. It may also mean rebellion in the political sphere. Thus Jeroboam raises the hand against (vay-yarem yad be-) Solomon (1 Kings 11:26) and this sense of rebellion and arrogance is taken over into the religious sphere in Num 15:30–31. As rebellion against God, the phrase is only used here though it is implied in Job 38:15, where the wicked’s raised arm (zero‘a ramah) will be broken, just as the arm (zero‘a), that is, strength, of Eli’s house will be chopped off (1 Sam 2:31). Numbers 15:30 sums up the content of such rebellion as blaspheming or reviling (giddef) YHWH. 18 Giddef only occurs six other times in the OT, five of which relate to verbal abuse or blasphemy, once against other people (Ps 44:16[MT v.17]) 19 and four times against God (2 Kgs 19:6, 22 and its parallel in Isa 37:6, 23). These latter four portray Sennacherib belittling YHWH’s power to save his people, which finds its parallel in Eli’s sons treating God’s gifts and person as insignificant.

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The sixth occurrence in Ezek 20:27 shows how Israel’s unfaithfulness to God (i.e., their apostasy) blasphemed him and emphasizes action rather than words. The LXX highlights the connection with Num 15:30 by translating giddef with synonyms for provoking to anger in both (paroxunō in Num 15:30 and parorgizō in Ezek 20:27), whereas it uses blasphēmeō (to slander, speak impiously) and oneidizō (to reproach, revile) for Sennacherib’s attitude, thereby highlighting the verbal aspect of the abuse. Nevertheless, whether words or actions are the focus, giddef reflects the attitude of contempt similar to the cluster of words describing the sins of Eli’s sons. Further, Num 15:31 describes the offense as despising (bazah) the word of YHWH (cf. 1 Sam 2:30). It also states that the sacrificial system has no efficacy in this case and the punishment is cutting off (hikrit), that is, divine action. We see then that the sins of Eli’s sons share with Num 15:30–31 not only the defiant and arrogant attitude but also the contempt for and belittling of God. IS HIGH-HANDED SIN UNFORGIVABLE? Numbers 15:30–31 provides no remedy for high-handed sin and the sins of Eli’s sons likewise cannot be atoned for by sacrifice. Are these sins then unforgivable? There is a certain inevitability in the verdict as given in 1 Sam 3:14, a finality underlined by the phrase that it is ‘ad-‘olam (set in place “permanently”). Yet, we might recall other instances where God relents despite the firm pronouncement of judgment. A well-known example that comes to mind is Jonah’s prophecy against Nineveh, which equally seems final and yet is overturned by sincere repentance (Jon 3:4–10). It may also be argued that Eli’s sons had no opportunity to repent because God desired to put them to death (1 Sam 2:25), such that their attitude was a direct result of God’s predetermined will or hardening (though the latter word is not mentioned in the text). The question of hardening is a notable crux in the Bible and one that for lack of space I cannot address here in detail. I only wish to make a few basic observations. First, as Firth notes, the OT is mainly concerned with attributing to God primary causation, 20 but this does not preclude human responsibility. In fact, many narratives highlight the latter juxtaposed with the sovereignty of God carrying out his purposes (e.g., 1 Kgs 11:13; 12:15; Judg 14:1–4). Secondly, Eli’s sons have shown themselves arrogant, brushing aside any protest from worshippers on an ongoing basis and they acted in contempt of God (1 Sam 2:13–17). This was not simply a one-off event, but a continuing practice. Thus, it is not the case that they desperately

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wanted to repent but God gave them no opportunity, so he could punish them. God confirms an already existing attitude rather than imposes an alien will on them. Finally, even Eli himself, even though never implicated in any hardening shows no clear sign of repentance. Despite his ineffectual admonition of his sons, he clearly benefits from their practice eating the sacrificial portions (2:29). Tellingly, the narrative records no response from Eli following the judgment speech of the man of God (2:27–36). Even after the revelation given to Samuel, he can only acknowledge his conviction that the message is of the Lord (3:18). While his response is sometimes construed positively, 21 and admittedly the account is a little more sympathetic towards him, one wonders if this does not fall short of true piety. Should we not expect some acknowledgment of guilt even if judgment is seen as unavoidable? A major argument against expecting repentance here is Milgrom’s thesis that in the early narratives repentance may be commended but is neither required nor effective. It might soften the punishment but it cannot remove it. Assuming an early date for the priestly material in the OT, he proposes that confession is a priestly innovation for sin involving some intentionality. In his view, it is a legal means whereby intentional sin against God is transformed into unintentional sin and thus expiable by sacrifice. Further, he argues that this idea is only fully developed in the prophetic material where repentance becomes the prime means for forgiveness and reconciliation without the need for sacrifice. 22 While Milgrom approaches the question with a history of Israelite religion in mind and posits a particular direction of development, there may be other ways to account for the absence of repentance in 1 Sam 2–3 or the seeming ineffectiveness of it in some other narratives. An understanding of the content and dynamics of repentance and forgiveness may better explain why in certain cases the former may seem ineffectual. First, repentance must be genuinely given for the sake of acknowledging wrongdoing, not as a means of avoiding judgment. Not all repentance qualifies according to the above. For instance, Saul’s confession of his sin only comes after several bold statements that he had obeyed God mixed with excuses (1 Sam 15:13, 15, 20–21). Even when he finally admits what he had done (vv.24–25, 30), he is more concerned about the consequences and pleads with Samuel to honor him before the people. When Samuel refuses, Saul tries to hold onto him by grasping his cloak (v.27), which tears in visible illustration of God’s rejection of his kingship. The rest of Saul’s story bears out this picture of his inability to let go of power as he persecutes David. In contrast, David spares the king’s life twice (1 Sam 24; 26) demonstrating his own willingness not to grasp power unless God gives it to him. In both incidents Saul weeps and acknowledges his sin verbally (24:17; 26:21), yet his actions do not change.

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Secondly, even if repentance is genuine, forgiveness is not automatic, which Milgrom himself recognizes as he comments on God’s forgiveness within the sacrificial system. 23 The phrase “who knows . . . ,” “perhaps” in connection with God potentially relenting from judgment (e.g., Joel 2:14; Jon 3:9; Jer 26:3; Amos 5:15, etc.) indicates that even when there is repentance God’s forgiveness cannot be presumed upon. 24 This is also demonstrated in some of the narratives which are played out in the time of the prophets and beyond. For instance, Josiah repents (2 Kgs 22:18–20), but God’s judgment on Judah is only postponed, not removed (23:26). 25 Further, even in the postexilic period, confession and re-commitment to YHWH does not carry with it an imminent expectation of complete restoration (Ezra 9:6–9; Neh 9:36–37 cf. v.38 [MT 10:1]). We see then that there may be reasons why repentance and forgiveness play out the way they do other than Milgrom’s thesis of the development in Israelite religious thought. Instead, I argue that 1 Sam 2–3 is consciously juxtaposed with the story of David’s sin with Bathsheba highlighting the importance of repentance. This fits in well with a number of themes in the book such as the use and abuse of power and what Gordon observes as the deliberate contrasts between those who are exalted and others who are brought low (1 Sam 2:7). 26 For instance, it is generally recognized that the growth and maturing of the boy Samuel is placed against the backdrop of the demise of Eli’s family. 27 Similarly, there is an obvious contrast between the two kings: Saul and David. The connection between priesthood and royal dynasty, however, is less often noted and often only in passing. 28 Nevertheless, it is certainly clear from the way the promise of the faithful priest uses terminology that later describes David and his dynasty. Thus, God will raise up for himself a faithful priest who will do according to what is in God’s heart (1 Sam 2:35), just as he will raise a man after his own heart to rule instead of Saul (1 Sam 13:14). Likewise, God will build both the faithful priest and king David an enduring house (1 Sam 2:35; 2 Sam 7:16). There is therefore good reason for seeing Eli and David, priesthood and kingship juxtaposed. DAVID’S SIN WITH BATHSHEBA Despite the above argument for seeing a conscious contrast between David and Eli’s house, the sins of each may seem at first glance dissimilar. David’s adultery and murder would primarily belong to the jurisdiction of an earthly court, though sexual crimes, as we have seen, also fall under God’s judgment. However, both David’s admission (“I have sinned against the LORD”) and the prophet Nathan’s absolution (“The LORD also has taken away your sin, you shall not die”) in 2 Sam 12:13 suggest that the offense is primarily seen as against God. 29 Perhaps also, it is hard

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to bring an erring king to justice, hence the need for a higher authority represented by the prophet. Even so, one would not naturally associate the abuse of the sacrificial system with David’s sin of adultery and murder. Nevertheless, some similarities emerge as 2 Sam 12 describes David’s acts. First, Nathan’s parable of the rich man with plenty, who takes the single treasured lamb of the poor man, evokes the sin of Eli’s sons who, from a position of power, wrested by force something that did not belong to them (vv.2–4). Secondly, Nathan’s speech confronting David further illuminates the parallel. Like the man of God in 1 Sam 2:27–28, who depicts the priests’ calling as a position of privilege with provision made for their needs, Nathan equally describes David’s calling to kingship as a position of privilege with bountiful provision and an open-ended offer for more, if requested (2 Sam 12:7–8). Thirdly, a couple of verbal parallels also emerge in the evaluation of the sin. As Eli’s household despised (bazah) God by their actions (1 Sam 2:30), so David despised (bazah) YHWH’s word and person (2 Sam 12:9–10). As Eli’s sons showed contempt (ni’ets) for the sacrifices (1 Sam 2:17), so David “caused the enemies of the LORD to blaspheme (ni’ets ni’atsta)” (2 Sam 12:14). The infinitive absolute with the perfect, which might be rendered in a wooden fashion as “despising he despised,” is emphatic and forceful. 30 There is some uncertainty as to the object of this contempt. A straightforward reading of the MT (“he utterly scorned the enemies of the LORD”) makes no sense. NRSV translates it as “he utterly scorned the LORD” replacing “enemies” with the “LORD.” The translators presumably felt that the issue here is the same as in 1 Sam 3:13, where scribes may have replaced the name YHWH to avoid associating contempt or blasphemy with him. 31 However, the changes required (dropping a word and adding another) are more intrusive here than in the earlier case. Firth, following Fokkelman’s proposal that ni’ets in the piel stem can be causative, argues for the rendering “caused the enemies of the LORD to blaspheme.” 32 This overall is preferable in my view and it is further strengthened by the LXX translation, which similarly retains enemies here but amends it to God in 1 Sam 3:13. 33 Thus, on the one hand there is a conceptual parallel between the sins of Eli’s sons and David’s in that both operate from a position of privilege and use the power such a position affords to gain what was not given. Moreover, both indicate a dissatisfaction with and a belittling of the gifts and provision God has made as inadequate. This is well expressed in the synonyms for contempt in both texts (bazah, ni’ets), which is shown not only for God’s things but ultimately for his person as well. We see then that the juxtaposition of Eli’s sons and David invites comparison. In the one usurping power is accompanied by a stubborn

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attitude that brushes aside correction, in the other it is followed by repentance. It highlights the importance of such contrition and explains why God’s original choice is altered with respect to Eli’s house but not to David’s. IS DAVID’S SIN FORGIVEN? One might ask, however, whether David’s sin with Bathsheba is fully forgiven. After all, the king will still reap to some extent God’s punishment which is not mitigated by his confession. His life is spared but his child conceived of adultery will die, his household will suffer war and strife (most obviously through Absalom’s rebellion), and his wives will be abused in public (again by the power-hungry Absalom). In what sense might we speak of forgiveness here? First, a note on the expression used is in order. In 2 Sam 12:13 Nathan says that the Lord “has passed over your sin” (he‘evir ḥatta’tekha). While this may sound like a simple overlooking or disregarding of iniquity, other examples where the phrase is in parallel with synonyms for forgiveness (Mic 7:18; Job 7:21; Zech 3:4) suggest a genuine cancelling of the sin. 34 The most obvious clue to David being forgiven is that he will not die, neither will his progeny be eliminated apart from the son born of adultery. To this latter issue I shall return below. Secondly, he is not removed from the throne as Eli’s house is from the priesthood or Saul’s dynasty from kingship. It is also clear that his relationship to God is restored, evidenced by his intercession for his child. He understands God’s gracious nature (“who knows . . .” 2 Sam 12:22) that may change even this verdict and his guilt is clearly lifted so that he is able to intercede for another. The continuing narrative demonstrates his ongoing relationship with God (e.g., 2 Sam 15:31; 17:14; 24:10, 14, 25). Further, the verdict in the Book of Kings that God shows favor to the kingdom of Judah for David’s sake (1 Kgs 11:32, 34; 15:4; 2 Kgs 8:19, etc.) reinforces this image in the understanding of later generations. Why then must there be any punishment at all? I submit that the key for this is in 2 Sam 12:14. David, as king of Israel is in an elevated position. As a representative for God’s rule his actions throw aspersions on YHWH’s character, so that God may be maligned by his enemies. If David gets off lightly it would condone his sin and would smear God’s reputation. Thus, the two aspects of the punishment (the sword and the taking of David’s wives) will remain in place. What David did secretly, will be done to him in public, so the wrong he has done will be condemned clearly. Although these are not direct consequences of his own sin, the punishment matches the crime and reinforces the principle that what one sows, one also reaps.

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Explaining the death of the child is perhaps harder, yet this too is directly connected to the potential scorning of God that David’s sin evokes and 2 Sam 12:14 clearly makes the link. The child’s death is inexplicable in today’s terms of an individual life that is a separate entity in its own right and innocent of any crime. However, in an ancient Israelite context the child is in some form the continuation of his parents’ life and represents the future. Particularly at a time before belief in the resurrection becomes commonly accepted, one’s life endures in one’s children. Thus, the fact that the child of adultery must die indicates symbolically that the fruit of an illegitimate relationship is death without a future. 35 The significance of death as a symbolic expression of the fruit of sin is foreshadowed in David’s response to Nathan’s parable condemning the rich man as “a son of death” (v.5). This is sometimes taken to mean either the death penalty, 36 or, more commonly, being worthy of death even if actual sentencing to death is unlikely. 37 As Firth points out, however, the punishment for stealing property indicated in the text is fourfold restitution (Exod 22:1 [MT 21:37]), not death, and so the expression “a son of death” is more of a negative evaluation of a person’s behavior. 38 It is potentially an assessment of where such a sin leads in the sense that Deuteronomy uses life and death as synonyms for obedience and disobedience or wisdom literature describes the path of the wicked as a way of death. Ironically, David condemns himself more thoroughly than he realizes seeing the way of death in a lesser crime than his own. Yet, grace prevails in the end. It is the paradoxical nature of grace that out of the very relationship that became the cause of death, after forgiveness and a new start, comes life. The text tells us that the son born to David and his (now) wife Bathsheba, was Solomon, loved by God (2 Sam 12:24) and future king and temple-builder of the dynasty. In conclusion then, I submit that David is genuinely forgiven but the three aspects of the punishment remain in place in order to vindicate God’s honor publicly and to safeguard his reputation. Nevertheless, the punishment overall is still minor compared to what it could have been: loss of royal office for the dynasty, the death of David, and extirpation of his line. FORGIVENESS WITHOUT REPENTANCE? The principle that emerges therefore is that high-handed or deliberate sin, whilst not expiable by sacrifice, may nevertheless be forgiven if there is genuine repentance. This is further affirmed in prophetic literature where repentance without sacrifice may lead to God relenting from bringing judgment (e.g., Jon 3; Zech 1:3; Jer 18:7–8). However, there are two key episodes where sin is ostensibly forgiven without repentance. What are we to make of the golden calf incident (Exod 32–34) and the story of the spies (Num 14), which arguably involve forgiveness without

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repentance? Can Milgrom be right after all that in some narratives the presence or absence of repentance makes no difference to the outcome following sin? It is worth considering these two as test cases for understanding further how forgiveness works. Although this may be fairly obvious, it is worth noting that both the golden calf and the incident of the spies fits comfortably into the category of high-handed sin. In the golden calf narrative, the vocabulary of Num 15:30–31 is not used, but breaking the central commandment of worshipping either YHWH through an idol, or other gods, makes this obvious. The golden calf narrative also repeatedly uses the expression “stiffnecked” (Exod 32:9; 33:3, 5; 34:9) to describe Israel’s rebellion and obstinacy. Further, by the postexilic period this incident was classed with Israel’s ongoing revolt against God in the land. Just as many texts that describe such rebellion use the key verb “to show contempt, spurn” (ni’ets), 39 so Neh 9:18 depicts the worship of the golden calf as committing “great blasphemies” (ne’atsot gedolot—from the same root as the verb ni’ets). As we have seen, this is a key word in both the narratives about the sins of Eli’s sons and David’s adultery and murder. In the story of the spies (Num 14) God’s promised acts of bringing Israel into the land is explicitly rejected. The people’s intent to stone their leadership and return to Egypt is clearly rebellion (v.9). Israel has also had more experience with God in the meantime, seeing both his just actions and his provision, so they have even less excuse than earlier. Indeed, God’s outrage is expressed as he speaks to Moses using the same key word ni’ets “How long will this people spurn Me?” (v.11 cf. also v.23). Further, the structure of Numbers with its episodes from Israel’s wilderness wanderings interspersed with laws may suggest a connection between the spy incident in Num 14 and the high-handed sin in Num 15:30–31. There is a similar link in the following chapters where Korah’s rebellion and the demand for priestly privileges (chs.16–17) is followed in ch.18 by the clear delineation of priestly and Levitical duties and portions. I now turn to the two episodes in question where forgiveness is given without repentance. In Exod 32 when the people sin with the golden calf, Moses intercedes for them and averts the total annihilation of the people when God relents (niḥam—v.14). The Levites on Moses’ command execute judgment thus demonstrating that they acknowledge God’s standards (vv.25–29). However, further atonement needs to be done. Moses intercedes asking God to forgive their sin and linking his own fate with the people’s (v.32). God, however, only punishes the guilty (v.33) and his justice is played out through the plague (vv.34–35). The people are described as obstinate (stiff-necked); the reason why God is unwilling to go with them in person. Although they show remorse on hearing this (33:4), it is unlikely to be genuine repentance as some

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suggest. 40 As Moberly points out, the Hebrew for going into “mourning” (hit’abbel) is also used in Num 14:39, where Israel’s disobedience continues, supporting the argument that the word does not indicate true repentance. 41 The putting away of their ornaments (v.5) is reminiscent of Jacob’s household putting away their foreign gods (Gen 35:2, 4). 42 Nevertheless, even if there is a similar association of idolatry with the ornaments, it must be borne in mind that this only happens at God’s express command (Exod 33:5). Moreover, God continues to be reluctant to accompany Israel and only does so at Moses’ continued intercession and as a favor shown to him (33:12–17) rather than making reference to the people’s attitude. It is telling, in fact, that Moses, even as he asks for God’s forgiveness for Israel, describes them as stiff-necked (34:9), indicating their hardness of heart and unwillingness to obey God. Although it is not stated explicitly that God had forgiven them, the fact that he renews his covenant with them (34:10) indicates it. The golden calf incident is exceptional in the way it allows for the renewal of a relationship based on Moses’ intercession rather than on explicit repentance even though the description of rebellion suggests high-handed sin. There is some punishment meted out through the Levites’ action and the plague, but the long-term relationship between YHWH and his people is allowed to continue. In the episode of the spies, Moses again intercedes and asks for pardon (salaḥ) for Israel and God affirms that he has done so, using the identical word salaḥ (Num 14:20). However, in the same breath he describes the punishment coming on them. In what sense might one talk about forgiveness here? Milgrom argues that salaḥ does not mean that the sin is wiped out, rather that there is reconciliation so that the relationship with God might continue. He attempts to demonstrate this from Amos 7:1–8; 8:1–2 where, he argues, the punishment is temporarily cancelled but not the sin and salaḥ is set parallel with ḥadal (refrain from), ‘avar (pass by) and niḥam (relent). 43 While the overall outcome for Israel in Num 14 coheres with Milgrom’s theory, it is not convincing to argue this from the meaning of the words used. As we have seen earlier, ‘avar in Mic 7:18–20 is a genuine cancelling of sin. Likewise, in Jon 3:10 there is no indication that God’s relenting (niḥam) is only a temporary respite, a cancelling of punishment but not the sin. If it were so, it would undercut the book’s message of God’s outrageous and extravagant grace. 44 It would be better therefore not to try and redefine the meaning of forgiveness as Milgrom attempts, but to recognize the factors that limit its effects. God’s forgiveness in Num 14 is demonstrated in the fact that he does not go along with his original suggestion to strike the people with pestilence and to dispossess them, so that they are no longer seen as his (v.12). This is reinforced by the fate of the next generation who will not only survive the wilderness wanderings but will enter the land. Never-

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theless, the unbelieving generation cannot enter the land because that is symbolic of the fullness of life, or as Heb 3:19 puts it, of entering into God’s rest. Their exclusion demonstrates in tangible ways the spiritual principle present throughout Scripture, but perhaps most emphatically expressed in Deut 30:15–18, that without trust and obedience such fullness of life is impossible to achieve. Thus repentance, or rather, its absence and Israel’s ongoing rebellion are key to the narrative and the outcome of forgiveness. On the face of it, once God’s verdict is announced, Israel acknowledges her sin (Num 14:40), but it is again questionable to what extent this is genuine repentance. Rather, the confession is immediately followed by the people’s arrogant assumption that they can reverse God’s judgment simply by going up into the promised land (v.40), and they persist even when they are told that the Lord is not going to help them (vv.41–44). As Saul’s confession is merely a means of holding onto God’s promises and avoiding the consequences of his sin, so it is in this case. Further, Israel’s ongoing story of rebellion and grumbling in Numbers suggests that their verbal confession here was not followed by a change of attitude. These examples of forgiveness without repentance in the OT highlight the two ways in which high-handed sins may be “resolved”: intercession and/or repentance. However, a comparison between the two suggests that intercession without genuine repentance can only achieve a breathing space for the relationship between God and his people to continue. Without an appropriate response on the human side, the fullness of life as exemplified by entry into the land is impossible and ultimately, the ongoing relationship itself comes into jeopardy (Amos 7:1–9; 8:1–2). Returning to the original question of whether the sins of Eli’s sons are “unforgivable,” we may conclude that it cannot be resolved and atoned for by sacrifice because, as many scholars have noted, the sacrificial system is not designed to deal with high-handed or defiant sin (Num 15:30–31). However, the close verbal parallels between the story of Eli’s sons and David’s situation in 2 Sam 12 seem to indicate an intentional comparison between the two. It highlights both the possibility and efficacy of repentance to bring about forgiveness and reconciliation. Some other incidents where forgiveness is offered in response to intercession in the absence of genuine contrition, highlight further the essential need for repentance to restore an enduring relationship with God. NOTES 1. Unless otherwise indicated, all biblical quotations are taken from the NASB (1995 updated) edition. 2. For a view that the practice was offensive, see e.g., Henry P. Smith, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Samuel, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1899), 18; Hans W. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel: A Commentary, OTL (London: SCM, 1964), 34–35.

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For the opinion that vv.13–14 is not condemnatory, see e.g., Lyle M. Eslinger, Kingship of God in Crisis: A Close Reading of 1 Samuel 1–12, BLS 10 (Sheffield: Almond, 1985), 117; P. Kyle McCarter, Jr., 1 Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 8 (New York: Doubleday, 1980), 83. Views partly depend on how the Hebrew gam at the beginning of v.15 is translated. As “also” it suggests an additional malpractice and indicates a negative view of vv.13–14, while as “even before” it allows for a more neutral perspective on the potluck custom. 3. David T. Tsumura, The First Book of Samuel, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 161. Hertzberg observes that the sentence is missing from Codex Vaticanus and may have been added from another tradition. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 36. 4. In Hebrew scholarship it is more common to refer to verbs by their three-letter root and their stem (e.g., b‘t qal), but I feel that for the non-specialist, this would make the discussion unduly hard to follow, especially as in some cases the root letter (the middle one in the above example) is silent! Therefore, I have opted for the use of the verb in its third masculine singular form in the perfect (e.g., “he kicked” ba‘at) as a convenient shorthand that most closely reproduces the vowel pattern of the stem without additional pre- or suffixes. 5. The links with Deut 32:15 are well recognized by commentators. E.g., Robert P. Gordon, I & II Samuel: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986), 86; David G. Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, AOTC 8 (Nottingham: Apollos, 2009), 70; Tsumura, Samuel, 167 n.158. 6. BDB 3513 ‫ ;כבד‬HALOT 2:455–56. 7. BDB 7043 ‫קלל‬. 8. HALOT 3:1104. 9. Bruce K. Waltke, “‫ ” ָבּזָה‬TWOT 224a. 10. Hans Wildberger, “‫ ”נאץ‬TLOT 2:694–96. 11. E.g., Gordon, I & II Samuel, 90; Tsumura, Samuel, 180. 12. Tsumura, Samuel, 167. 13. Ralph W. Klein, 1 Samuel, 2nd ed., WBC 10 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2000), 33. Likewise, Eslinger, Kingship, 153. 14. E.g., Klein, 1 Samuel, 33. Gordon, I & II Samuel, 90; Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 78; Tsumura, Samuel, 180. 15. I am indebted to Neusner’s reflections on this derived from the Mishnah. Jacob Neusner, Making God’s Word Work: A Guide to the Mishnah (New York: Continuum, 2004), 155–172, esp. 159. 16. The precise meaning of being cut off is debated with options including premature death, extirpation, and/or the denial of an afterlife. Jacob Milgrom, Numbers (Philadelphia: JPS, 1989), 405–8. 17. Dennis R. Cole, Numbers: An Exegetical and Theological Exposition of Holy Scripture, NAC 3B (Nashville: B&H, 2000), 253; Milgrom, Numbers, 125. 18. BDB 1442 ‫ ;גדף‬HALOT 1:180. 19. Where the English and Hebrew numbering of the biblical references diverge, I have indicated the Hebrew verse number in brackets together with the abbreviation “MT” for Masoretic Text, the authoritative Hebrew and Aramaic text of the Old Testament. 20. He makes this point in connection with the “evil” spirit sent by God to torment Saul in 1 Sam 16:14. Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 187. 21. Walter Brueggemann calls Eli “a model of piety and acquiescence” in First and Second Samuel, Interpretation (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1990), 26. Similarly, though less emphatically, Gordon sees Eli’s portrayal as not unsympathetic to him. Gordon, I & II Samuel, 90. 22. Milgrom, Numbers, 396–98. 23. Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 3 (New York: Doubleday, 1991), 245. 24. R. Walter L. Moberly, Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013), 195.

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25. It might be argued that the reason for this is that the people have not repented, but the narrative clearly relates judgment and mercy to kings and their actions. The people are depicted almost as an extension of their king’s actions. Thus it is Manasseh’s former sins that are cited above as the reason for why God did not relent, not the people’s. 26. Gordon, I & II Samuel, 81. 27. For example, Klein, 1 Samuel, 24–26; Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 66, 68; Robert D. Bergen, 1, 2 Samuel: An Exegetical and Theological Exposition of Holy Scripture, NAC 7 (Nashville: B&H, 1996), 81; Stephen B. Chapman, 1 Samuel as Christian Scripture: A Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016), 82–83. 28. E.g., Gordon, I & II Samuel, 88; McCarter, I Samuel, 91. 29. This is also paralleled in Ps 51:4 in the statement that “against you, you only have I sinned.” Although the authorship of the psalm is debated, the later association of David’s adultery and murder with such a psalm affirms that in the history of interpretation the king’s sin was seen as primarily against God. 30. Firth also notes the connection to 1 Sam 2:17 through ni’ets, although he makes no comment about the other links between the two texts. Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 425. 31. Same in RSV. Likewise argued by e.g., Gordon, I & II Samuel, 259; P. Kyle McCarter, Jr., II Samuel: A New Translation with Notes and Commentary; AB 9 (Garden City: Doubleday, 1984), 296. 32. Jan P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: A Full Interpretation Based on Stylistic and Structural Analyses. Vol. 1: King David (II Sam. 9–20 & I Kings 1–2) (Assen: van Gorcum, 1981), 451 cited in Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 424–25. Similarly, Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 315. 33. The Septuagint of 2 Sam 12:14 follows the MT slavishly including the Hebraism: paroxunōn parōxunas tous echthrous kyriou (translated woodenly as “provoking you provoked the enemies of the Lord”). Brenton renders the LXX similarly to the NASB as “thou hast given great occasion of provocation to the enemies of the Lord.” In contrast, the LXX amends 1 Sam 3:13 to kakologountes theon huioi autou (“his sons spoke evil/a curse against God”). 34. Hans F. Fuhs, “‫ ָעבַר‬,” TDOT 10:408–25 (esp. 421–22). The parallel expressions are nasa’ ‘avon (“take away/bear iniquity”) in Mic 7:18 and nasa’ pesha‘ (“take away/bear transgression”) in Job 7:21, which are both routinely used for forgiveness (e.g., Exod 34:7). Zech 3:4 describes the cleansing of the high priest, Joshua, where the expression of passing over sin is paralleled by the removal of his filthy garments. 35. Milgrom, following the principle set out by Ramban, argues that the child dies because if there is “contrition, then God in His mercy, will delay the punishment to a future generation.” He sees a parallel here with the postponement of punishment on Ahab due to his repentance (1 Kgs 21:29). Milgrom, Numbers, 394. However, the two are not comparable. In David’s case the punishment is not postponed but falls on his son immediately and the judgment only targets the offspring of adultery, not all his progeny. 36. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel, 313. 37. E.g., McCarter, II Samuel, 299; A. A. Anderson, 2 Samuel, WBC 11 (Dallas: Word, 1989); Peter R. Ackroyd, The Second Book of Samuel; CBC (Cambridge: CUP, 1977). 38. Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 427. 39. Num 16:30; Deut 31:20; Isa 1:4; 5:24; Jer 23:17; Ps 107:11; cf. Neh 9:26. 40. For example, Martin Noth, Exodus: A Commentary, trans. J. S. Bowden (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 254; Milgrom also argues that Israel’s contrition made the renewal of the covenant possible. Milgrom, Numbers, 393. 41. R. Walter L. Moberly, At the Mountain of God, JSOTSS 22 (Sheffield: JSOT, 1983), 60. 42. Moberly, At the Mountain of God, 60. 43. Milgrom, Numbers, 395–96.

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44. Assuming a historic moment of Assyrian repentance at Jonah’s preaching, it is sometimes argued that Assyria was eventually judged by God (see Nahum), but there is no indication that this is a temporarily suspended judgment that is re-instated. Rather, in line with Jer 18:1–11, which also uses the Hebrew verb niḥam “to relent,” God responds appropriately both to repentance and faithfulness as well as to obstinacy and sin.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ackroyd, Peter R. The Second Book of Samuel. CBC. Cambridge: CUP, 1977. Anderson, A. A. 2 Samuel. WBC 11. Dallas: Word, 1989. Bergen, Robert D. 1, 2 Samuel: An Exegetical and Theological Exposition of Holy Scripture. NAC 7. Nashville: B&H, 1996. Brown, F., S. R. Driver, and C. A. Briggs, eds. The New Brown-Driver-Briggs-Gesenius Hebrew and English Lexicon with an Appendix Containing the Biblical Aramaic. Lafayette, IN: Associated Publishers and Authors, 1978. Brueggemann, Walter. First and Second Samuel. Interpretation. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1990. Chapman, Stephen B. 1 Samuel as Christian Scripture: A Theological Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016. Cole, Dennis R. Numbers: An Exegetical and Theological Exposition of Holy Scripture. NAC 3B. Nashville: B&H, 2000. Eslinger, Lyle M. Kingship of God in Crisis: A Close Reading of 1 Samuel 1–12. BLS 10. Sheffield: Almond, 1985. Firth, David G. 1 & 2 Samuel. AOTC 8. Nottingham: Apollos, 2009. Fuhs, Hans F. “‫עָבַר‬.” Pages 408–25 in vol. 10 of Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Edited by G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-Josef Fabry. Translated by David E. Green and Douglas W. Stott. Grand Rapids MI: Eerdmans, 1999. Gordon, Robert P. I & II Samuel: A Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986. Hertzberg, Hans W. I & II Samuel: A Commentary. OTL. London: SCM, 1964. Klein, Ralph W. 1 Samuel. 2nd ed. WBC 10. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2000. Koehler, Ludwig, and Walter Baumgartner, eds. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Translated and edited by M. E. J. Richardson. 3 volumes. Leiden: Brill, 1994–1996. McCarter, P. Kyle, Jr. 1 Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 8. New York: Doubleday, 1980. ———, P. Kyle. II Samuel: A New Translation with Notes and Commentary. AB 9. Garden City: Doubleday, 1984. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 3. New York: Doubleday, 1991. ———. Numbers. Philadelphia: JPS, 1989. Moberly, R. Walter L. At the Mountain of God. JSOTSS 22. Sheffield: JSOT, 1983. ———. Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013. Neusner, Jacob. Making God’s Word Work: A Guide to the Mishnah. New York: Continuum, 2004. Noth, Martin. Exodus: A Commentary. Translated by J. S. Bowden. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962. Smith, Henry P. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Samuel. ICC. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1899. Tsumura, David T. The First Book of Samuel. NICOT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007. Waltke, Bruce K. “‫בָּ זָה‬.” Page 224 in Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament. Edited by R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer, and Bruce K. Waltke. Chicago: Moody, 1980.

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Wildberger, Hans. “‫נאץ‬.” Pages 694–96 in vol. 2 of Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament. Edited by Ernst Jenni and Claus Westermann. Translated by Mark E. Biddle. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1997.

FOUR “To See Your Face Is Like Seeing the Face of God” Pastoral and Systemic Reflections on Forgiveness and Theosis in the Jacob Story Jonathan R. Robinson

At first glimpse Esau is the bad guy in the Jacob story. He is the hirsute older brother predestined to be lesser (Gen 25:21–25). He is the violent bully who despises his birthright (Gen 25:34) and whose murderous anger drives his brother away (Gen 27:41–45). His murderous threat imperils the continuation of Abraham’s line of faith through Jacob. The temptation is also to anachronistically (and incorrectly) read Malachi 1:1–3 and Romans 9:13 back into the story. 1 If God himself despises Esau, shouldn’t we? The biblical narrative is, however, far more ambiguous. Not only is Jacob far from a model of faithfulness and upright behavior himself but neither is Esau a one-dimensional villain. In fact, as the cycle reaches its climax Esau becomes closely and even confusingly identified with God. When Jacob is returning fearfully to an uncertain welcome (Gen 32:7, 11), Esau shows undeserved grace and favor to Jacob and so is compared to God (Gen 33:10–11). He becomes God-like in the act of forgiveness. Yet this divinizing act of forgiveness can be overlooked because of two factors: firstly, the biblical “hero” and patriarch, Jacob, is the offender; and secondly, it is overshadowed in popular piety by the divine wrestling match preceding it. What this chapter will show is that when viewed as a story of forgiveness, indeed because of those factors, Jacob’s

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reconciliation to Esau raises some profound and confronting questions about our own practice of forgiveness. In recent decades, traditional biblical scholarship has been enriched by the added perspectives of women, scholars from non-Western nations, empirical hermeneutics, postcolonial hermeneutics, and many other valuable perspectives that bring to light aspects of the biblical text that white male Western scholars may not apprehend without assistance. I would suggest that it is not just the social location of scholars that can lead to a narrow reading of Scripture but also the training of Bible scholars which is rooted in the rational, the logical, and the verbal. Alternatively, psychotherapeutic theories of emotional systems may serve to highlight the nonrational dynamics of the Jacob/Esau conflict and demonstrate the necessity of a God-like intervention in the established reactive system of deception and violence. By rising above the reciprocal feedback of negative emotions Esau creates a new order out of the chaos of sibling rivalry. This chapter presents a reading of the reconciliation of Jacob and Esau that is attentive to the emotional dynamics of the story. As such, it is not intended as a traditional exegetical essay but to provoke all parties, including those working in the realm of human psychology, to a fresh engagement with a most compelling biblical narrative. EMOTIONAL SYSTEMS For the Christian, forgiveness is an essential matter of discipleship, whether dealing with our own reactions to the wrongs of others, attempting to reconcile family members or friends, fellowshipping in faith communities broken by historic and current conflicts, or working for reconciliation between races in our own nation or internationally. Indeed, wherever we find human relationships we need forgiveness if we are to be obedient to the teaching of Jesus (e.g., Matt 6:14–15). However, forgiveness is never just a matter of logic and reason but also, normally, of deep rooted emotions. In mid-2013 I faced a crisis of pastoral ministry, a perfect storm of organizational and relational issues on a number of fronts. I had already been struggling and thinking of quitting. Through a number of seemingly providential channels I became aware of the work of Edwin Friedman, a rabbi and psychotherapist who had written and taught on understanding the emotional dynamics of families, organizations, and churches. Allegedly his students used to joke of the late rabbi, “Rabbi Jesus saved my soul, but Rabbi Friedman saved my ass!” 2 In all honesty, that also became my testimony. As the rational, logical creature that (I thought) I was, I simply was not equipped to deal with the immense emotional, non-rational forces that can operate in churches. Friedman’s work opened my eyes to a

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whole aspect of human reality which had been there all along but that I had never had the tools to analyze. I soon found that the ability to recognize the emotional systems I was working in allowed me to both manage the effect those systems had on me and to control my own effect on those systems. This allowed me not just to survive the crises but to make considerable organizational and interpersonal progress in doing so. The value of taking an emotional systems view of the world was confirmed for me. Emotions are an instantaneous form of communication essential to survival. When a rabbit stamps its foot in anxiety, the other bunnies do not stop to discuss the source of concern; they run for their holes. In human beings both joy and anxiety can be highly contagious. We have canned laughter on TV shows because we are more likely to laugh if we hear others laughing. And we have big fights in church members’ meetings when one person unexpectedly lobs an emotional “grenade” into the room and others react to it with anger or anxiety. Emotional systems occur whenever a group of people spend time together. “Reactivity” is our emotional response to the emotions of others. Other people’s emotions can invade our conscious and subconscious and provoke a range of responses. The emotion we feel is not always the emotion received by others. When the emotional communication of one individual generates an emotion in another person that may in turn generate even more emotion in the first person creating a vicious circle of increasing reactivity and emotional output. Established emotional systems are capable of persisting in families and organizations, including churches, sometimes even despite changes in personnel. Family therapists are experts in tracing the way the family context can affect the individual and frequently find that the emotional systems of past generations are passed down to the next. In the words of Friedman, “The most outstanding characteristic of systems thinking is its departure from traditional notions of linear cause and effect. . . . Each component, therefore, rather than having its own discrete identity or input, operates as part of a larger whole.” 3 THE PATRIARCHS IN FAMILY THERAPY A family therapist trained in emotional systems would have a field day with the patriarchs in Genesis. Family therapists map emotional systems using genograms, simple diagrams of families that allow objective reflection on the emotional dynamics. They create a “visual diagram of family structure that may be used to elicit and identify family patterns.” 4 This genogram (figure 4.1) attempts to convey the family history of Jacob using what we can glean from the biblical account. 5

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Even an untrained eye can observe generational patterns of estrangement and manipulation including (but not limited to) the following: Abram and Lot separate from Terah (Gen 12:4). 6 Abram and Lot separate from each other (Gen 13). Abraham lies to Abimelech (Gen 20). Hagar and Ishmael are sent away (Gen 21:8–14). Isaac deceives Abimelech (Gen 26). The story of Jacob and Esau that begins Gen 25:19 shows Rebekah anxiously manipulating her son Jacob against her husband Isaac’s wishes and against her older son Esau’s interests. While estranged from his immediate family by his machinations, Jacob is himself manipulated and deceived by his uncle Laban (at one point with help from Leah) who repeatedly attempts to swindle him (Gen 29–31). Thus, given his family context, it is not at all surprising that Jacob finds himself estranged from his family and using deceit in response to anxiety or envy. This is exactly how those in his family have acted before him. Neither is it surprising that Jacob’s sons later repeat the pattern as a group (Gen 37:12–36). Jacob’s manipulative and deceitful behaviors in taking Esau’s birthright in Gen 25:29–34 and Esau’s blessing in Gen 27 are neither original to him nor the product of an autonomous individual, rather they are the product of the emotional inheritance he has received from his family. He is simply acting out the systemic emotional prototypes present in his family tree. A beaver inherits from his parents the inclination to build dams. Jacob inherits from his family the inclination to deceive and to disconnect.

Figure 4.1. Jacob’s Family Tree

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THE BROTHERS PREPARE TO MEET Genesis 32 describes Jacob’s preparation to meet with Esau. This is a story that is already full of chronic, harmful, and reactive emotional patterns. The patriarchs need therapy! More importantly, Jacob’s emotional responses have already been typecast, for him to act differently will require a disruption of the established systems. It might be tempting to think that time has simply healed the wounds and that Jacob and Esau have matured past their youthful quarrel. However, Family Systems Theory suggests that when we disconnect from a chronic emotional system by leaving the situation, we do not resolve the system, it is merely put on pause. It remains in place, playing out in the subconscious of the participants. 7 In coming back home, on God’s instruction (Gen 31:3), Jacob is not walking into a neutral situation that has reset due to his years of absence but into the same system of fear and anger that he had left behind (Gen 27:41–45). Jacob’s overriding emotion going into this situation is fear and distress (Gen 32:7, 11). However, there are also significant clues as to Esau’s state of mind, not least the 400 men accompanying him to “greet” Jacob. Simply put, 400 men is not a welcoming committee but a war party. 8 Esau is coming for blood, and could well need to kill and plunder Jacob in order to pay for the mercenaries who make up his war band. Acting to type, Jacob’s instinctive emotional reaction to this pressure would be to deceive or trick his way out of the situation. This is his emotional programming. However, rather than responding to Esau’s anger and threats out of the fear he feels, instead he sends gifts (Gen 32:13–21). Jacob is still feeling fear (his private, emotional experience) but by sending gifts he is sending a different and unexpected emotional message to Esau. Jacob states that his intention with the gifts is to appease Esau (Gen 32:5). However, there is no control over what emotional response the gift will generate in his brother. As well as a gift of appeasement, apology, or friendship, it could also be seen as a sign of superiority, flaunting his wealth and condescending to give his brother a gift. 9 If nothing else the gifts also serve a tactical purpose. Those 400 men would not be Esau’s personal retainers, they would be local warriors brought along with the promise of bounty (at Jacob’s expense). So, the gifts would firstly remove the need for the hired men to attack Jacob. Secondly, warriors would be required to look after the gifts received thus reducing the number of men available to attack. 10 While Jacob does not give any sign of being aware of these tactical advantages he is certainly thinking tactically in regard to his remaining people and livestock (Gen 32:7–8). The patriarch most known for craftiness is surely not sleeping on the job here.

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So, Jacob communicates a new emotional message, responding with a gift instead of fear and deceit, and he creates a situation in which Esau is going to be less able to attack him. However, the risk is that nothing has really changed. Jacob is still terrified and when they meet face to face the old emotional cycle can be expected to restart and Esau will revert to his original plan (Gen 27:41). The reality is, in order to bring a lasting resolution to the emotional system of fear and hate, Jacob will have to be changed himself. THE WRESTLING MATCH The drama of Jacob meeting Esau is interrupted by the extraordinary night-time encounter with “a man.” We don’t know how the struggle begins, or even what it is about, we only know that they wrestle and cannot overpower each other (Gen 32:24–25). The man strikes Jacob on the thigh causing injury, but still Jacob will not let go without a blessing (Gen 32:26). Now the importance of this request for a blessing is, first, that Jacob has realized he is wrestling with someone important: for the inferior does not bless the superior; and, second, that the wrestle now reveals an agenda: Jacob wants a blessing from the man (Gen 32:26). Now what exactly Jacob is asking for has been a matter of considerable debate, but at this point in time there can be only one thing on Jacob’s mind: his fear and distress at his coming meeting with his brother (Gen 32:7, 11). The blessing that he seeks is surely that he will survive that encounter. The idea that he could have had anything else on his mind at that point makes no sense if we are taking the emotional data into account. Thus, the response of “the man,” in the giving of a new name, was a prophetic response that he will survive (Gen 32:28). Jacob has already been camping with angels (Gen 32:1–2) so can be excused for not recognizing his opponent’s identity in the dark but once the blessing is given he realizes who it is that he has been wrestling: “I have seen God face to face and yet my life is preserved” (Gen 32:30). Despite the promise given to Jacob in utero (Gen 25:23), he and his mother had tried to fulfil that prophecy by their own schemes and with disastrous results. Rather than realize the promises of God, the machinations of Rebekah and Jacob only succeeded in perpetuating family cycles of deceit and broken relationships. Now, in facing his brother without tricks, for the first time Jacob has to place his whole trust in God and depend on God, not on his own abilities. This is the meaning of the wrestling match and Jacob’s struggle with God. Although Jacob has been named the overcomer, in fact he has submitted to his opponent by being the first to let go.

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After daybreak Jacob goes to meet his brother, and the threat is still very real (Gen 33:1). Jacob does not attempt to lie or trick his way out of the situation or even to keep himself out of harm’s way as he did earlier (when he sends everyone ahead of himself, Gen 32:23), instead he now submits to Esau, bowing down to him seven times (Gen 33:3). In such a sparse narrative this detail of the number seven is surely significant. Firstly, Jacob bowing down is the reverse of the promise given in Gen 27:29 where Jacob was blessed to be lord over his “brothers,” 11 demonstrating his manipulation has not resulted in the fulfilment of the promise. Secondly, the number seven is the symbolic number of completion and divinity. Jacob is not just humbling himself he is exalting Esau. The gesture is so excessive that John Calvin tries to argue that he is worshipping God not his brother. 12 The effect on Esau is dramatic. Esau runs to Jacob and embraces him, falls on his neck and kisses him, and they both weep (Gen 33:4)! The anticipated violence, anticipated both by the presence of Esau’s warband and by the fearfulness of Jacob is diffused as both brothers give way to very different emotions. In parallel with the wrestling match, Jacob only overcomes his brother’s animosity and hatred by submitting to him. However, by his submission he successfully neutralizes the emotional system that was determining both their actions and leading him to destruction. He truly is the “overcomer.” He has not overcome God or Esau, but the emotional system that held him and his brother captive. THE PRODIGAL BROTHER Hamilton helpfully observes, “Esau's actions toward Jacob on his homecoming are also similar to those of the father toward his homecoming son in the parable of Jesus (Luke 15:11–32). Both Esau and the father fell on the neck and kissed their brother/son. On both occasions the kiss is possibly not just a display of joyous feelings but an indication of forgiveness (cf. 2 Sam 14:33).” 13 As remarkable as the reconciliation between the brothers is, the ensuing conversation is equally so. After embracing his brother, Esau then asks an explanation for the droves that were sent to him. In giving his explanation and pressing Esau to accept the gifts Jacob continues in his remarkable elevation of Esau. Jacob ties together his meeting with God in Gen 32 with his meeting with Esau in Gen 33 with the words, “to see your face is like seeing God's face” (Gen 33:10). In a startling juxtaposition, “Peni-el,” face of God, has been followed by “Peni-esau,” face of Esau. 14 Now, comparing a superior to a divine being is fairly standard protocol for grovelers, but Jacob is not any ordinary groveler, but a man who has literally just spent the night face to face with God. For this statement

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not to be idolatrous it must have more significance than mere hyperbolic flattery. 15 What is key to Jacob’s sentiment is the conditional clause of Gen 33:10, “now that you have received me with favor.” For Jacob, Esau has become God-like through offering forgiveness. Just as Jacob admits he does not deserve God’s grace in Gen 32:10, he now exalts, even divinizes, Esau in Gen 33:10. This extraordinary statement and the bowing that precedes it can be downplayed or explained away. However, from an emotional perspective they present as radical and conscious breaks in the established emotional patterns that allow the creation of a new emotional world. This statement of Jacob’s is not mere flattery but a genuine expression of his brother’s God-likeness, of a human being (albeit for one instance) successfully imitating the God of grace that Jacob has come to know. A third reason for Christians to give greater significance to this statement is Jesus’ story of the prodigal son. In that parable the father, the narratively parallel character to Esau, represents God. I am not arguing that the New Testament could have influenced the meaning of this passage, but that Jesus also clearly thinks this forgiving-embracing-reconciling behavior is God-like. It seems probable that Jesus, in part, is echoing Jacob and Esau’s reconciliation in his parable of divine forgiveness and reconciliation. 16 This should refocus our understanding of the high point of the Jacob story. In popular piety our focus is on the theophany, God’s appearance to Jacob in Gen 32. However, in reality Jacob’s encounter with God hidden in the darkness of a river gorge at night was only the prelude to and preparation for Jacob’s encounter with God-in-his-brother. Jacob’s faith journey may have involved dreams, visions, and angelic visitation, but the climactic fulfilment of his faith walk was in the reconciliation with his brother. The same goes for the Christian today. While our faith may include spiritual experiences and extraordinary encounters (or it may not!), it is only complete when worked out in the messy and complex realm of human relationships (see e.g. Matt 5–7, Rom 12–14, James, etc.). PASTORAL REFLECTIONS ON JACOB AND ESAU If, as I have argued, we see this story of reconciliation and forgiveness as genuinely involving the identification of the forgiver with God, what applications might that have for us today? For those of us serious about the spiritual life, the opportunity to become more like God is surely a significant inducement to take forgiveness more seriously. We are told by Jesus to forgive or God will not forgive us (Matt 6:15), but equally we are told to be like God in our gracious love to others, even our enemies (Matt 5:43–48). If we want others to encounter God through us, this story confirms and illustrates that forgiveness is one way to do that.

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Anecdotally, in my pastoral experience in New Zealand culture, I have noticed that often when we practice forgiveness, at least on the individual level, we tend to operate by minimizing the offense, for example, “I forgive you, it was no big deal.” Jacob in his extravagant gifts and public worship of Esau goes the other way. He shows he understands the severity of his offense by the fuss he makes about the forgiveness. Celebrating forgiveness inherently involves the admission of the sin. A great forgiveness implies a great sin to be forgiven. Perhaps in polite Western culture our very understandable instinct is to avoid embarrassing the offender but does this serve to devalue the forgiveness offered and in some way limit its effectiveness? However, despite the title of this chapter, my lingering impression from sitting with this story is that of the vulnerability of the offender. We often view forgiveness from the side of the offended but for Jacob to put himself in a position where he could be forgiven took extreme personal risk and cost. Finding forgiveness literally involved placing his life in his brother’s hands. Being forgiven can be a terrifying thing. It is not just the potential for revenge, but even the emotional disorientation as the ingrained, unwritten rules that had governed previous interactions are now torn up and a new way of relating must be discovered. The offender has placed themselves in our debt. When we practice forgiveness for others, how sensitive are we to their vulnerability? Jacob could not manipulate his angry brother or force a change of heart. What he could do was change the emotional system that he and Esau were both caught up in, creating space for Esau to change if he wanted to. By changing his contribution to the emotional system, Jacob also allowed his brother to change. In his own spiritual transformation, his gift giving, and his obeisance to and exaltation of Esau, Jacob worked to create the conditions where forgiveness became possible. There are lessons here for the church as it seeks forgiveness from groups it has sinned against, like indigenous people, LGBT, women, and the disabled, to name a few possibilities. Does Jacob provide a model for seeking reconciliation with those we have wronged? Do we treat seeking forgiveness purely as a rational process or are we prepared to wrestle spiritually with the change that is needed in us, even to the point of being injured in that wrestling? Ultimately, Jacob is part of our own genogram of faith, our whakapapa (genealogy), he is our tipuna (ancestor), and he confirms for us that basic to our identity as the people of God is that we are the ones who need to be forgiven, who are saved by forgiveness. Isaac was redeemed by the ram, Jacob is forgiven by Esau, the sons of Israel are saved by the brother they sold into slavery. So, when we truly forgive others we become like God, but we never forget that what grace we might offer others is a pale reflection of the forgiveness and mercy shown to us in God’s priceless reconciling gift of Jesus Christ.

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NOTES 1. Malachi 1:1–3 is not commenting upon Jacob and Esau as individuals but upon the nations that are descended from them. See Andrew Hill, Malachi AB (Auckland: Doubleday, 1998), 84. Romans 9:13 similarly is dealing with the election of the nation of Israel in regard to the divine plan of salvation and does not constitute a judgment on the worthiness or morality of either Jacob or Esau as individuals (contra Hill, idem.). See Joseph Fitzmeyer, Romans AB (Auckland: Doubleday, 1993), 563. Moreover, it is axiomatic that the theological agendas of later texts cannot be determinative for the meaning of earlier texts to which they refer. 2. Gary Emanuel and Mickie Crimone, from “Foreword (2011)” to Edwin Friedman, Generation to Generation: Family Process in the Church and Synagogue (London: Guilford Press, 1985, 2011), ix. 3. Friedman, Generation to Generation, 15. 4. Philip Culbertson, Caring for God’s People: Counseling and Christian Wholeness (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 30. 5. While I appreciate some inferences have been made that are a matter of interpretation, and while willing to argue for them, I do not have the space to do so here. The point is the overall picture created, which is by any measure compelling. 6. Although Terah “dies” in Gen 11:32, it is a moot point as to whether the narrative portrays Abram leaving before or after this time. Gen 12:1, certainly suggests he is leaving his father’s house, which if Terah was dead would have become his house. With Terah dying at 205 and Abram leaving for Canaan at 75 years of age, Terah would be at least 130 years old when he fathered Abram if Abram leaves after Terah dies, cf. Gen 11:26. Genesis does not provide enough detail to be clear. 7. Friedman, Generation to Generation, 41–42. 8. Victor Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, NICOT (Cambridge: Eerdmans, 1995), 322. Hamilton points out that when Abraham rescued Lot from multiple kings (Gen 14:14) he only needed 318 men! It should be admitted that most commentators find ambiguity in Esau’s intentions, not least due to the fact the messengers return unharmed preventing a surprise attack. My negative interpretation assumes that Esau has not forgiven Jacob in absentia. If he has it would be out of character and without explanation. 9. Note Gen 33:9, where Esau requires an explanation for the gifts. Cf. Gary Stansell, “The Gift in Ancient Israel” Semeia 87 (1999): 65. 10. Walton, Genesis NIVAC (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001), 604–5. 11. Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, 343. 12. John Calvin, Commentaries on the First Book of Moses Called Genesis, Vol II, Trans. John King (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009), 206. There is of course no exegetical warrant for this, only Calvin’s understandable discomfort at seeing a revered patriarch worship, what he terms, a “reprobate” human. 13. Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, 344. 14. Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, 345–46, 336. 15. Interestingly Calvin, who felt the need to explain away the sevenfold obeisance, completely avoids mentioning this striking phrase in his commentary. He just ignores it! Commentaries . . . Genesis, Vol. II, 210–11. 16. Joel Green, The Gospel of Luke, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 583.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Calvin, John. Commentaries on the First Book of Moses Called Genesis. Vol. 2. Translated by John King. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009. Culbertson, Philip. Caring for God’s People: Counseling and Christian Wholeness. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000.

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Emanuel, Gary, and Mickie Crimone. Foreword (2011) to Generation to Generation: Family Process in the Church and Synagogue, by Edwin Friedman. London: Guilford Press, 1985, 2011. Fitzmeyer, Joseph. Romans. AB. Auckland: Doubleday, 1993. Friedman, Edwin. Generation to Generation: Family Process in the Church and Synagogue. London: Guilford Press, 1985, 2011. Green, Joel. The Gospel of Luke. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997. Hamilton, Victor. The Book of Genesis. NICOT. Cambridge: Eerdmans, 1995. Hill, Andrew. Malachi. AB. Auckland: Doubleday, 1998. Stansell, Gary. “The Gift in Ancient Israel.” Semeia 87 (1999): 65–90. Walton, John H. Genesis. NIVAC. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001.

FIVE A Second Temple Context for Jesus’ Teaching on Interpersonal Forgiveness Richard Neville

Like the mustard seed of the parable, Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness has grown to become a great tree. The literature on forgiveness is prodigious and diverse, representing a range of academic disciplines as well as more popular works. It would be a mistake to suggest that all of this literature is rooted in Jesus’ teaching, though it is noteworthy that even secular approaches recognize the important contribution of Jesus and Christian thinkers in the realm of interpersonal forgiveness. 1 To say this, however, is not to claim that Jesus originated the idea of interpersonal forgiveness, though this is sometimes said to be the case. 2 On the contrary, Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness belongs to an ancient tradition that existed for hundreds of years before his birth. To establish the point, this chapter focuses on three texts from the Second Temple period that offer instruction on how to respond to injury (Sirach 19:13–17; 27:30–28:7; Testament of Gad 6:1–7). The character of the instruction given in these texts leads to two conclusions. First, Ben Sira, the writer of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, and Jesus are representatives of a common tradition dealing with the subject of forgiveness. And second, the headwaters for this tradition are to be found in Leviticus 19:17–18.

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SIRACH AND LEVITICUS 19:17–18 Sirach was written in Hebrew early in the second century B.C. by the wise man Jesus son of Eleazar son of Sira. Convention refers to him by the patronymic Ben Sira (“son of Sira”). Ben Sira’s grandson translated Sirach into Greek for the Jewish community in Egypt towards the end of the second century B.C. 3 Christians too came to value the book of Sirach for its ethical teaching, and this is why the Greek version is the better preserved. No complete manuscript of the Hebrew text is known, and the compilation of numerous fragments and partial manuscripts is still well short of providing a complete Hebrew text. This means that for numerous passages in Sirach the Greek text is the most ancient witness, and this is the case for the two texts in Sirach that are of interest to the present study. 4 Leviticus 19:17–18 (see table 5.1) offers instruction on how to respond to injury. Sirach’s dependence on Lev 19:17–18 for his teaching on how to respond to injury is evident in two texts: Sirach 19:13–17 takes up the subject of reproof found in Lev 19:17, and in Sir 27:30–28:7 Ben Sira encourages his audience to obey Lev 19:18a by extending forgiveness to the one who causes injury. Table 5.1. Translations of the Hebrew and Greek Texts of Leviticus 19:17–18 English Translation of the Hebrew Texta 17 Do not hate your fellow in your heart. Instead you must reprove your associate, so you do not incur guilt because of him. 18Do not seek revenge or retain anger against anyone of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD. English Translation of the Greek Textb 17 You shall not hate in your mind your kin; In reproof you shall reprove your neighbor, and you shall not assume guilt because of him. 18And your own hand shall not take vengeance, and you shall not be angry against the sons of your people, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself; it is I who am the Lord. a b

Writer’s translation. New English Translation of the Septuagint.

SIRACH 19:13–17 AND LEVITICUS 19:17 13

Reprove a friend—perhaps he did not do it; and if he did, so that he does not do it again. 14 Reprove a neighbor—perhaps he did not say it, and if he did, so that he does not say it again. 15 Reprove a friend, for often it is slander, don’t believe every word. 16 Then too, a person can slip and not mean it, and who has not sinned with his tongue? 5

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Reprove your neighbor before [you resort to] threatening them, 6 and give place to the law of the Most High. 17

James Kugel has argued the case that Sir 19:13–17 is an excursus on the instruction to “reprove your neighbor” in Lev 19:17. The relation between this passage and the Law of Reproach in Lev 19:17 is announced both by the repeated “reproach” at the beginning of successive lines and the coupling of this verb with the word “neighbor” (as in Lev 19:17) as well as with the equivalent terms “friend” and “fellow.” This passage, in other words, is an excursus on the commandment to reproach one’s friend/fellow/neighbor and an examination of the merits of reproach. 7

Just what the merits are of engaging in reproach is to some degree dependent on how some textual and interpretive difficulties are resolved in Sir 19:13–17. However, for the purposes of this study the necessary conclusions can be established irrespective of how the difficulties are resolved. Sirach advocates for the use of reproof as a way of discovering whether or not a friend actually did or said something that caused injury: “reprove . . . perhaps he did not do/say it” (vv.13–14). 8 Reproof is also the prescribed means for preventing the repetition of injurious behavior: “reprove . . . so that he does not do/say it again” (vv.13–14). 9 Furthermore, according to verse 17 reproving a person who has caused injury is preferable to becoming angry and threatening them: “Reprove your neighbor before [you resort to] threatening them.” 10 Reproof, then, is the alternative to an angry or threatening response when someone causes injury. 11 This insight that reproof can prevent such a response is derived from Sirach’s reading of Lev 19:17. 12 Do not hate your fellow in your heart. Instead you must reprove your associate, so you do not incur guilt because of him. (Lev 19:17) 13

Ben Sira has read the last clause of Leviticus 19:17 as a warning that a threatening response incurs guilt, and he follows Leviticus in prescribing reproof as the means by which to avoid this guilt-incurring response to injury. Ben Sira’s instruction to “give place” (dos topon) to the law (Sirach 19:17b) might be taken as a reference to keeping the law by responding rightly to the person who has caused injury: reprove your neighbor and (by doing so) keep the law. If so, he is encouraging compliance with Lev 19:17. 14 The point would be that by following Ben Sira’s injunction to reprove so as to avoid resorting to angry threats, a person thereby complies with the law of Lev 19:17 which requires a person to reprove so as to avoid incurring guilt. However, Zerbe may be correct when he suggests “give place to” indicates deferment. In Romans 12:19 Paul instructs his audience not to retaliate, but instead “give place” (dote topon) to the wrath of God. 15 Any

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punishment must be deferred to God. According to this view, by requiring reproof Ben Sira keeps the injured party from taking revenge. Instead (after reproving), they must let the law do its work. This might be referring to the law’s work on the offender’s conscience. However, it is more likely that Ben Sira intends that “the law is to arbitrate a solution.” 16 An injured person must not exact revenge, but must (reprove and) defer to proper legal process. 17 The correctness of the reading (see table 5.2) is suggested by the fact that the entire verse becomes a coherent expression of the traditional assertion that revenge belongs to God (Deuteronomy 32:35, cf. Lev 19:18). Understood this way it is possible to see how Ben Sira read Lev 19:17 (see table 5.3). Ben Sira comes to the very reasonable conclusion that the guilt in Lev 19:17 is incurred by taking revenge. And this guilt can be avoided by reproving the person (instead of taking revenge). The reflex “and leave revenge to God” is a natural inference for Ben Sira to draw once he has read Lev 19:17 as instruction aimed at preventing personal revenge. Versions of this reflex are widely attested, “Forgive them from the heart and leave vengeance to God” (Testament of Gad 6:7); “Do not say, ‘I will repay evil’; wait for the LORD, and he will avenge/ deliver 18 you” (Proverbs 20:22). 19 Table 5.2. Revenge in Sirach 19:17 Sirach 19:17

Revenge Must Be Left to God

Reprove your neighbor

reprove

before [you resort to] threatening them,

instead of taking revenge

and give place to the law of the Most High.

and leave revenge to God’s law

Table 5.3. Revenge in Leviticus 19:17 Leviticus 19:17

Revenge Must Be Left to God

. . . you must reprove your associate,

reprove

so you do not incur guilt because of him.

instead of taking revenge

(reflex)

(and leave revenge to God)

IN SUMMARY Ben Sira’s comments on reproof are informed by Lev 19:17. Like Lev 19:17, Sirach 19:17 treats reproof as an important part of a person’s response when they suffer injury. Reproof is the prescribed means by which the injured party can act so as to prevent a repeat of the injurious behavior. And in both Sirach 19:17 and Lev 19:17 reproof is the pre-

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scribed alternative to responding in a manner that incurs guilt. Indeed, by offering reproof the injured person chooses not to seek revenge, but instead leaves justice to God. SIRACH 27:30–28:7 AND LEVITICUS 19:18 30

Anger and wrath, these also are abominations, yet a sinner holds on 20 to them. 1 The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance, for he keeps a strict account of their sins. 2 Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done, and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray. 3 Does anyone harbor anger against another, and expect healing from the Lord? 4 If one has no mercy toward another like himself, can he then seek pardon for his own sins? 5 If a mere mortal harbors wrath, who will make an atoning sacrifice for his sins? 6 Remember the end of your life, 21 and set enmity aside; [remember] corruption and death, and be true 22 to the commandments. 7 Remember the commandments, and do not be angry with your neighbor; [remember] the covenant of the Most High, and overlook faults.

That Ben Sira had a commandment in mind when he composed this paragraph is evident from the references to the commandments (entolē) twice in Sirach 28:6 and 7 and the reference to the covenant (diathēkē) in 28:7 (see table 5.3). In addition, several verbal resonances confirm he was thinking of Lev 19:18 when he composed Sirach 27:30–28:7. These resonances include prohibitions against revenge as a response to injury (Lev 19:18; Sirach 28:1). 23 Both texts also discourage anger, and here Ben Sira employs the same verb found in the Greek translation of Lev 19:18 (mēniō, “be wrathful, angry”). This verb appears in only two other texts in the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible and occurs only here (28:7) in Sirach. 24 Likewise, the noun (mēnis) occurs twice in the Septuagint and is unique to this text (Sirach 27:30; 28:5). 25 This shared vocabulary for anger in Lev 19:18 (LXX) and Sirach 27:30; 28:5 and 7 suggests the translator of Sirach was influenced at this point by the Greek translation of Lev 19:18. 26 The references to one’s “neighbor” (Sirach 27:2, 7) also suggest dependence on Lev 19:18. 27 Three of these points of contact between Lev 19:18 and Sirach come together in the half-verse Sirach 28:7a, “remember the commandments and do not be angry with your neighbor.” This text is explicit that Ben

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Sira has the law in mind, and in particular a commandment prohibiting anger towards one’s neighbor. This can be a reference only to Lev 19:18. 28 Faithfulness to the covenant was a keen concern of the period in which Ben Sira lived, and there can be no doubt that in Sirach 27:30–28:7 Ben Sira expands on Lev 19:18 in order to encourage his audience to keep that commandment. It is no doubt difficult for modern readers to recapture the intensity with which injunctions like those of Lev 19:17 were read in the closing centuries before the Common Era. For such words constituted not merely good advice but a divine commandment, and on their proper interpretation and observance might sometimes depend the welfare of the community as a whole. It was imperative, therefore, to establish plainly and definitively the meaning of such laws. 29

How Ben Sira goes about motivating his audience to obey the law of Lev 19:18a is of some interest to the present investigation. Ben Sira’s reading of Lev 19:18 focuses on its prohibition against revenge and anger. He makes eight references to anger (27:30 [x2], 28:3, 5, and 7), enmity (28:6), and revenge (28:1 [x2]) in six verses (see table 5.4). However, he does not simply repeat the prohibitions against these behaviors. Instead, he uses the indicative mode of instruction as he seeks to move his audience by means of argument and persuasion. Only in the last two verses does he finally take up the imperative mode and require compliance with the law (28:6–7). 30 His approach is that of a skilled wisdom teacher setting out to persuade his audience to remain faithful to the covenant of the Most High. 31 Ben Sira’s strategy for motivating his audience to keep the law of Lev 19:18 is to invoke divine (retributive) justice. This is evident from Sirach 28:1–2. 1

The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance, for he keeps a strict account of their sins. 2 Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done, and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray.

In these verses Ben Sira sets out a choice for his audience. They can take the path of revenge, but then they should expect divine vengeance (Sirach 28:1). Alternatively if they choose forgiveness they can anticipate the same from the Lord (28:2). Ben Sira has simply applied the principle of retribution to the prohibition against revenge in Lev 19:18. Divine retributive justice states that God will appropriately reward or punish a person according to their deeds. The perverse get what their ways deserve, and the good, what their deeds deserve. (Proverbs 14:14 NRSV) For the day of the LORD is near against all the nations. As you have done, it shall be done to you;

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your deeds shall return on your own head. (Obadiah 15 NRSV)

Jesus invokes the retributive principle to motivate his audience. Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. (Matt 7:1–2 NRSV)

Expressions of retributive justice are often transparent as to the appropriateness (justice) of the punishment. In the book of Esther, for example, Haman is killed on the very apparatus he had erected to kill Mordecai. 32 And in the book of Jubilees, Cain kills Abel with a stone and then Cain dies appropriately (i.e., justly), when his house collapses and the stones from the house kill him (Jubilees 4:31). In wisdom texts it is not unusual to find the wicked falling into their own traps or perishing by their own weapons (Proverbs 26:27; 28:10 cf. Sirach 27:26–27). “[Bend not] thy [b]ow and shoot not thine arrow at a righteous man, lest God come to his help and turn it back upon thee” (Ahiqar Col. ix, 126). 33

The point of such poetic justice is to portray God as just in his punishment of wrongdoers. The following text shows precisely the kind of motivation by means of divine retributive justice that Ben Sira is seeking to achieve. If you close your ear to the cry of the poor, you will cry out and not be heard. (Prov 21:13 NRSV)

This text is directly comparable to Ben Sira’s warning that those who seek revenge will experience revenge from the Lord (28:1). In both texts, how X treats Y will be mirrored in how God treats X. Ben Sira is making an entirely unexceptional application of the principle of divine justice in order to motivate his audience to keep Lev 19:18a, viz. those who break God’s prohibition against revenge will receive his just punishment. It is of particular interest to the present study to discover how it is that Ben Sira introduces the language of forgiveness into his exposition of Lev 19:18. In fact, he uses a cluster of related terms (see table 5.4) including forgiveness (28:2), pardon (28:2), healing (28:3), mercy (28:4), atonement (28:5), and overlooking faults (28:7), none of which appear in the text of Lev 19:18. Leviticus 19:18a is formulated as a negative command or prohibition, “Do not seek revenge or hold a grudge.” Fittingly, then, Ben Sira begins by discouraging revenge, “The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance” (Sirach 28:1a). In this way he encourages obedience to the law prohibiting revenge (Lev 18:19a) by describing the consequences of disobeying it. And then he adds further motivation by describing the reward for obeying the same law, “Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done, and then your

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Table 5.4. Distribution of the Language of Revenge and Forgiveness in Sirach 27:30–28:7 Verse The Language of Anger and Revenge

The Language of Forgiveness

27:30 anger (mēnis), wrath (orgē) 28:1

vengeful (ekdikeō), vengeance (ekdikēsis)

28:2 28:3

forgive (aphiēmi), pardon (luō) anger (orgē)

28:4

healing (iāsis) mercy (eleos)

28:5

wrath (mēnis)

28:6

enmity (echthrainō)

28:7

anger (mēniō)

atonement (exilaskomai)

overlook faults (paride agnoian)

sins will be pardoned when you pray” (Sirach 28:2). In other words, Ben Sira presents forgiveness as the obedient response to Lev 19:18a. According to Ben Sira, forgiveness signifies what is meant when Lev 19:18a prohibits anger and revenge. Ben Sira’s use of the language of forgiveness (healing, mercy, atonement, and overlooking faults) to identify what it means not to be angry and not to seek revenge runs throughout Sirach 27:31–28:7. Conversely, references to anger and revenge signify what it means not to forgive. These equivalences are essential to the logic inherent in the three rhetorical questions in Sirach 28:3–5. Question 1: 3 Does anyone harbor anger against another, and expect healing from the Lord? Question 2: 4 If one has no mercy toward another like himself, can he then seek pardon for his own sins? Question 3: 5 If a mere mortal harbors wrath, who will make an atoning sacrifice for his sins?

The first lines of rhetorical questions 1 and 3 contain a reference to harboring anger. Corresponding to these in rhetorical question 2 is a reference to “no mercy.” This suggests Ben Sira treats harboring anger and showing no mercy as equivalent in meaning. That is, anger and no mercy are indicative of refusing to forgive. This is why in all three questions holding on to anger and refusing to show mercy lead to the same result, viz. the withholding of divine forgiveness. Ben Sira is applying the logic he set out in 28:1–2. All three questions proceed on the basis that a failure to forgive one’s neighbor (harbor anger, show no mercy) equates

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to no divine forgiveness. Once again, Ben Sira encourages forgiveness as the proper response to injury, and as the fulfilment of Lev 19:18a. Finally, Sirach 28:7 is perhaps the clearest expression of forgiveness as the fulfilment of the prohibition against revenge and anger in Lev 19:18a. Remember the commandments, and do not be angry with your neighbor; [remember] the covenant of the Most High, and overlook faults. (NRSV)

The parallelism in this verse equates “commandments” with “covenant” on the one hand, and “do not be angry” with “overlook faults” on the other. In the previous discussion no forgiveness (i.e., “no mercy”) equated to harboring anger. In this instance no anger equates to extending forgiveness (overlooking faults). But even more significantly, in the second line Ben Sira is explicit that forgiveness (overlooking faults) is the means by which a person keeps the covenant. 34 That is, by forgiving one’s neighbor a person keeps the prohibition against revenge in Lev 19:18a, “Do not seek revenge or retain anger against any one of your people.” According to Ben Sira, then, the prohibition against revenge is a command to forgive. IN SUMMARY Ben Sira motivates his audience to comply with Lev 19:18a by invoking divine retributive justice. That is, those who seek revenge will receive the same from the Lord (Sirach 28:1). He reiterates the point this time positively in terms of forgiveness: those who forgive will be forgiven (Sirach 28:2). It is apparent from this that Ben Sira treats forgiveness as the forswearing of revenge and therefore, as the fulfilment of Lev 19:18a. TESTAMENTS OF THE TWELVE PATRIARCHS AND LEVITICUS 19:17–18 The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (Testaments) presents itself as a record of the last words of the twelve sons of Jacob to their children. It is written in the tradition of the account of Jacob’s last words to his sons in Genesis 50:1–33. 35 The Testaments was most likely written in Greek, and was probably composed towards the end of the second century B.C. 36 The Testament of Gad 6:1–7 provides a particularly clear and detailed appropriation of Lev 19:17–18. Gad begins his final words to his children with an acknowledgment that he bore a grudge against Joseph (T.Gad 1:8) because of the false report Joseph brought to their father (T.Gad 1:6–9). He goes on to speak of the “spirit of hatred” (T.Gad 1:9) that was in him, and how he often “wanted to kill him” (T.Gad 2:1). This was only

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made worse by Joseph’s dreams (T.Gad 2:2). Over the next few chapters Gad speaks extensively about the evils of hatred, including its distaste for commands requiring the love of one’s neighbor (cf. Lev 19:18b). Hatred does not want to hear repeated his commands concerning love of neighbor, and thus it sins against God. (T.Gad 4:2)

Finally, he recalls how he “suffered mercilessly” for his anger, and was under divine judgment for eleven months (T.Gad 5:11). All of this prepares the way for a unit of text (6:1–7:7) in which Gad instructs his children on the importance of loving one another and ridding themselves of hatred. 37 This unit is bounded by two corresponding injunctions, 38 Each of you love his brother. Drive hatred out of your hearts (6:1) Drive hatred away from your souls, and love one another . . . (7:7) 39

The first half of this unit (6:1–7) is concerned with how to respond to someone who causes injury and is the focus of attention here. 40 In the course of his instructions on how to respond to injury the writer of the Testaments incorporates every clause of Lev 19:17–18a and in doing so he follows the order of his source text. 41 He also incorporates the command to love (Lev 19:18c), but here he inverts the order. The requirement to love one’s neighbor in Lev 19:17–18 is given as the final command, whereas Gad’s references to love all occur in the first lines of his instruction on responding to injury (T.Gad 6:1–3). By advancing love to the beginning he is able to oppose love and hate in a manner that promotes love as the essential ingredient for all that follows. 42 T.Gad’s dependence on Lev 19:17 is evident from a series of correspondences. The first of these is the command to “drive out hatred from your hearts” (T.Gad 6:1 cf. 3), which corresponds to the prohibition “Do not hate your fellow in your heart” (Lev 19:17a). 1

Now, my children, each of you love his brother, and drive hatred out of your hearts. 43 Love one another in deed and word and inward thoughts. 2 For in the presence of our father I would speak peaceably to Joseph, 44 but when I went out, the spirit of hatred darkened my mind and aroused my soul to kill him. 3 Therefore, love one another from the heart. If anyone sins against you, speak to them in peace. Expel the venom of hatred and do not harbor deceit in your soul. If they confess and repent, forgive them. 4 If they deny their guilt, do not be contentious with them, otherwise they may curse, and you will have sinned doubly. 5 In a dispute do not let an outsider hear your secrets, since out of hatred for you they may become your enemy, and commit a great sin against you. For they may often talk to you, but treacherously; or be much concerned with you, but for an evil end, having received from you the venom. 45

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Therefore, if they deny it and yet feel shame when reproved, 46 be quiet so as not to provoke them. 47 For the one who denies will repent, so as not to offend you again; indeed they will honor you, will respect you and be at peace. 7 Even if they are devoid of shame and persist in their wickedness, forgive them from the heart and leave vengeance to God. 48 6

Gad also tells his sons to speak peaceably. This is T.Gad’s appropriation of the command in Lev 19:17b, “you must reprove your neighbor.” Both texts prescribe a verbal response to injury, but the choice of phrase in T.Gad (“speak to them in peace”) raises the additional concern that reproof should be peaceable in nature and not “contentious” (T.Gad 6:4). That Gad has reproof in mind here is also evident from the fact that the person to whom they are to “speak peaceably” is expected to “confess and repent” (T.Gad 6:3). 49 And the language of reproof will become explicit in T.Gad 6:6, at which point T.Gad will use the same verb as the Septuagint in Lev 19:17 (elenchō). Gad’s warning against “sinning doubly” (dissōs hamartaneis) in T.Gad 6:4 picks up the final clause in Lev 19:17 with its concern about incurring guilt “on account of him.” 50 For Gad the double guilt arises from being too persistent (“contentious”) in reproving the person. As a result of this persistent reproof the recipient of the reproof curses. 51 This makes the reprover doubly guilty. 52 In the first place they are guilty because of their own contentiousness. And in the second instance they are guilty because their persistence provoked someone to swear falsely. 53 Which is to say, the reprover incurs guilt “on account of him” (Lev 19:17c) in that they are responsible for the oath they provoked with their overzealous reproof. At this point T.Gad has touched on every clause of Lev 19:17: (1) do not hate; (2) reprove; (3) do not incur guilt. He digresses for a moment (T.Gad 6:5) 54 and then describes a further scenario that ends in repentance (T.Gad 6:6). Presumably this person would receive forgiveness, but this is left unstated since T.Gad 6:3 has already established that a person who repents is to be forgiven. But then, in T.Gad 6:7, Gad considers the possibility that a person does not repent. He concludes that even if the person who has caused the injury “is devoid of shame and persists in their wickedness” the injured person must “forgive them from the heart and leave vengeance to God” (T.Gad 6:7 cf. 6:3). 55 Twice now Gad has referred to forgiveness (T.Gad 6:3, 7). The question of particular interest to this study is whether or not the requirement to forgive can also be accounted for on the basis of the text of Lev 19:17–18. For a number of reasons the answer is undoubtedly, yes. T.Gad 6:1–7 contains five conditional clauses. In each of the five clauses the protasis provides an imaginary scenario describing the behavior of the offender. None of these scenarios has any basis in Lev 19:17–18. If anyone sins against you . . . (T.Gad 6:3)

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There is nothing like these five clauses in Lev 19:17–18. This is because Lev 19:17–18 never so much as mentions the behavior of the person who causes the injury, but only stipulates how the injured person is to act. The case is entirely different for the apodosis in each of the five conditional clauses. The instructions in the apodoses are addressed to the injured party, telling them how to respond to the person who injured them, and the suggestion here is that each of these instructions is based on the text of Lev 19:17–18a. . . . speak to them in peace (T.Gad 6:3 cf. Lev 19:17b “reprove your associate”) . . . forgive them (T.Gad 6:3 cf. Lev 19:18a “do not seek revenge”) . . . do not be contentious with them . . . you will have sinned doubly (T.Gad 6:4 cf. Lev 19:17c “so you do not incur guilt because of him”) . . . be quiet so as not to provoke them (T.Gad 6:6 cf. Lev 19:17c “so you do not incur guilt because of him”) . . . forgive them from the heart and leave vengeance to God (T.Gad 6:7 cf. Lev 19:18a “do not seek revenge”)

It is now apparent what the writer of the Testaments is doing here. In the protasis he introduces an imaginary and yet life-like scenario, and then in the apodosis he provides instruction on how to respond to that scenario, using the biblical text as his authority. It is hardly credible to suppose that the requirement to forgive, arguably the most demanding requirement of the five, is the only requirement that lacks any textual warrant. It is far more likely that he is basing his instruction to forgive on the prohibition against revenge in Lev 19:18a. That the writer of the Testaments has read the prohibition against revenge (Lev 19:18a) as a command to forgive, is rendered all the more certain by the manner in which he expresses the command: “Forgive them from the heart and leave vengeance to God” (T.Gad 6:7). From this it is evident that, for the writer of the Testaments, forgiveness signifies forswearing revenge. Only this can explain how it is that a person who forgives, by that very act leaves vengeance to God. Forgiveness (T.Gad 6:7) is equivalent to not seeking revenge (Lev 19:18a) in that the injured person in both cases leaves God to establish justice in response to injury. IN SUMMARY In T.Gad 6:1–7 the writer takes each of the clauses in Lev 19:17–18 and applies it to one of five imaginary, but life-like scenarios. Most important-

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ly for this study, the prohibition against revenge in Lev 19:18a is read as a requirement to forgive both those who repent (T.Gad 6:3), and those who do not (T.Gad 6:7). FORGIVENESS IN SIRACH AND THE TESTAMENTS OF THE TWELVE PATRIARCHS On the subject of responding to injury both Sirach and the writer of the Testaments are indebted to Lev 19:17–18. Indeed, Lev 19:17–18 serves as the source text on the subject. Furthermore, the importance of Lev 19:17–18 as a source of instruction on forgiveness is evident from the explicit references to forgiveness in Sirach and the Testaments when they are reflecting on Lev 19:17–18. Ben Sira tells his audience to “forgive” (aphiēmi) once (28:2), while the writer of the Testaments twice instructs his audience to “forgive” (aphiēmi, T.Gad 6:3, 7). For both writers these are their only uses of the verb “forgive” (aphiēmi) with reference to interpersonal forgiveness. This means that they only use aphiēmi with reference to interpersonal forgiveness when they are reflecting on Lev 19:18. For these writers Lev 19:18 is very much the law of forgiveness. JESUS’ TEACHING ON FORGIVENESS IN THE LIGHT OF LEVITICUS 19:17–18, SIRACH, AND TESTAMENTS OF THE TWELVE PATRIARCHS This is not intended to be an investigation of Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness in the light of these other texts. The purpose of this section is limited to establishing the essential continuity of the teaching on forgiveness attributed to Jesus, and the forgiveness tradition that is evident in Sirach and the Testaments, and that is traceable to Lev 19:17–18. A good case can be made for this continuity by observing a series of common features. The language of Matt 18:35 comes very close to that used in the Testament of Gad. T.Gad 6:3 “If anyone sins against you (hamartēsei eis se) . . .” Matt 18:15, “If your brother sins against you (hamartēsē eis se) . . .”

However, the prepositional phrase “against you” (eis se) in Matthew is textually uncertain, and may not be original. Nevertheless, this language is attributed to Jesus in Luke 17 along with references to reproof, and forgiveness. Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke 56 the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. And if the same person sins against you (hamartē eis se) seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, “I repent,” you must forgive. (Luke 17:3–4, NRSV)

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There is also a striking resemblance between T.Gad 6:7 and Matt 18:35. Matthew may owe something to T.Gad here (and compare Lev 19:17a, “Do not hate your fellow in your heart”). T.Gad 6:7 “. . . forgive him from the heart (apo kardias)” Matt 18:35 “. . . if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart (apo tōn kardiōn hymōn)” 57

Both Ben Sira and Jesus place their teaching on interpersonal forgiveness in the context of praying for divine forgiveness. 58 Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done, and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray. (Sirach 28:2 NRSV) Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone; so that your Father in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses. (Mark 11:25 NRSV)

Peter introduces the language of forgiveness into the narrative of Matt 18 using the same verb as Sirach 28 and T.Gad 6 (aphiēmi). In his response to Peter, Jesus uses the verb “forgive” (aphiēmi) and the verb “mercy” (eleeō), which can be compared to Ben Sira’s reference to mercy (eleos) as a synonym for forgiveness in Sirach 28:4. Like Ben Sira (28:1–2), Jesus invokes divine retributive justice in order to motivate his audience to forgive others. He makes his point first positively and then negatively. 59 For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. (Matt 6:14–15, NRSV) 60

CONCLUSION Jesus established the importance of interpersonal forgiveness for his followers. This chapter has attempted to show that in doing so he drew on a rich and ancient tradition. Ben Sira and the writer of the Testaments are two key teachers in that tradition. And these two authorities were themselves indebted to Lev 19:17–18 for their teaching. To the degree that this chapter has been successful in establishing these points, it will become important to attend to these texts, including Lev 19:17–18, as indispensable resources for investigating interpersonal forgiveness. This will be particularly so for those interested in the ancient roots of interpersonal forgiveness, and for those seeking to understand the biblical expression(s) of interpersonal forgiveness. Among the latter, the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ teaching appear to stand firmly within the tradition rep-

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resented by Leviticus, Sirach, and the Testaments, and as such can only benefit from further research into that tradition. NOTES 1. In his influential volume on forgiveness Griswold takes a secular approach and yet acknowledges his indebtedness to two sermons by an eighteenth century English bishop, “The touchstone of modern philosophical discussion of the topic is to be found in Bishop Butler,” Charles L. Griswold, Forgiveness. A Philosophical Exploration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), xv. Similarly, the philosopher Jeffrie Murphy describes Butler’s work as, “One of the most insightful discussions of forgiveness ever penned,” Jeffrie G. Murphy, Getting Even: Forgiveness and Its Limits (Oxford: OUP, 2003), 12. 2. It has become routine among writers on the subject to cite Hannah Arendt’s words, “the discoverer of the role of forgiveness in the realm of human affairs was Jesus of Nazareth,” Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958), 237. But it is not difficult to find biblical specialists who detect little if any evidence of interpersonal forgiveness in Jewish sources before Jesus: Joseph Blenkinsopp, “Reconciliation in the Middle East: A Biblical Perspective,” Theology Today 65 (2008): 346; Anthony Bash, Just Forgiveness: Exploring the Bible, Weighing the Issues (London: SPCK, 2011), 18 and 28. On the other hand, over a century ago Charles recognized that Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness in Matthew 18:15 and 35 owed something to the Testament of Gad 6:3 and 6, R. H. Charles, The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1913), 292. 3. The name of Ben Sira’s grandson is not known. 4. Slavonic and Armenian translations of Sirach are also extant. 5. The translation of this verse follows Patrick W. Skehan and Alexander A. Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira, AB 39 (New York: Doubleday, 1987), 289. 6. The verb apeileō means “to hold out” either a promise or (more commonly) a threat, H. G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 182–83; Muraoka suggests it means here, “to speak in threatening manner,” T. Muraoka, A Greek-English Lexicon of the Septuagint (Louvain: Peeters, 2009), 66. Peter says of Jesus, “When he suffered, he did not threaten (apeileō),” 1 Peter 2:23 (NRSV). 7. James L. Kugel, “On Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach: Early Exegesis of Leviticus 19:17,” HTR 80.1 (1987): 48. 8. According to verse 15 reproof is also important as a means of determining if a friend who is reported to have done something is in fact the victim of a slanderous report. 9. Translations and commentaries use a range of verbs for translating the opening imperative of verses 13, 14, 15, and 17: “reproach” (Kugel), “confront” (NEB), “question” (NETS, NRSV), “admonish” (Skehan and Di Lella), and “cross-question,” A. Edersheim, “Ecclesiasticus” in Henry Wace (ed.), The Holy Bible According to the Authorized Version (A.D. 1611) with an Explanatory and Critical Commentary: Apocrypha, vol. 2 (London: John Murray, 1888), 106. The material point for this study is that the Greek term used here is the same verb used in Leviticus 19:17 (LXX), “reprove (elegchō) your neighbor.” 10. Ben Sira expresses a similar concern in the next chapter, and he does so using the same verb, “How much better it is to rebuke (elegchō) than to fume!” (Sirach 20:2, NRSV). The verb translated “fume” here is thumoō, “to be angry, wrathful.” 11. Against Edersheim, “expostulate first, and, if needful, reprove and threaten,” Edersheim, “Ecclesiasticus,” 106. 12. Kugel, “On Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach,” 49. 13. The final clause should be read as a purpose clause (contra NRSV), indicating the purpose for carrying out reproof, Baruch A. Levine, Leviticus, JPS Torah Commen-

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tary (Philadelphia, New York, Jerusalem: Jewish Publication Society, 1989), 129; Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, AYB 3a (New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 2000), 1648. 14. John G. Snaith, Ecclesiasticus or The Wisdom of Jesus Son of Sirach (Cambridge: CUP, 1974), 99; Skehan and Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira, 294; James L. Crenshaw, “Sirach” in Leander E. Keck and Richard J. Clifford (eds.), The New Interpreter’s Bible: Proverbs-Sirach vol. V (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1997), 736. 15. Compare “Do not give an opportunity (didote topon) to the devil” (Ephesians 4:27). 16. Gordon M. Zerbe, Non-Retaliation in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts. Ethical Themes in Social Contexts (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), 43. 17. Compare “Do not imitate evil (i.e., do not retaliate), but leave vengeance to justice. For persuasion (i.e., reproof) is a boon, but strife (i.e., revenge) begets in turn strife,” Pseudo-Phocylides, 77–78, P. W. van der Horst “Pseudo-Phocylides” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Garden City: Doubleday, 1985), 2:577; and comments in Zerbe, Non-Retaliation in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts, 68–69. 18. “Avenge,” NIV; “deliver,” TNK, ESV; “help” NRSV. With any of these translations the point is still that the person refrains from taking their own revenge and waits on God to act on their behalf. The verb (yāšaʿ) commonly means “to save, deliver,” but here refers to revenge as it does in 1 Sam 25:26, 31, 33, where David is at risk of “avenging/delivering” (yāšaʿ) himself by his “own hand.” It is clear that David is not under threat from Nabal (as though David needs to be delivered), but is on a punitive expedition to kill him. In the Samuel text NRSV and NJB both translate yāšaʿ “taking vengeance” and TNK has “seeking redress.” 19. Rom 12:19; 1 Pet 2:23. Also this Egyptian text, “Don’t rush to attack your attacker, leave him to the god; report him daily to the god, tomorrow being like today, and you will see what the god does, when he injures him who injured you,” The Instruction of Any 8:14–17, in M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings, vol. 2 (Berkeley: University of California, 1976), 142, cited with further examples in Michael V. Fox, Proverbs 10–31, AYB 18B (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2009), 674. 20. NJB translates this verb “the sinner is a master at them both” and NETS has “a sinful man will have possession of them.” The sense “hold firmly to” is suggested by Sirach’s other uses of the verb. Sirach 6:26 uses the verb of holding on to wisdom’s instruction, “when you get hold of her, do not let her go (aphiēmi).” And Sirach 15:1 has, “he who has a hold on the law will lay hold of [wisdom]” (NETS; the second verb here is katalambanō). The only other occurrence is Sirach 26:15 and is less clear as to its meaning. Most importantly, the sense “hold firmly to [anger]” anticipates the references to “harboring” anger in 28:3 and 28:5. 21. The references to the “end of life” and “corruption and death” allude to the fact that at death a person could expect to give account to God for their lives. Keeping one’s end in mind could provide strong motivation to obedience. Compare Pirke Aboth 3:1, which reminds the reader to keep in mind three things in order not to come “into the power of sin.” The second and third of these are, “whither thou art going: to worm and maggot,” and “before whom thou wilt [have to] give account and reckoning,” W. O. E. Oesterley, The Sayings of the Jewish Fathers (Pirke Aboth) (London: SPCK, 1919), 28–29. 22. That is “hold to the commandments.” Sirach uses the same verb (emmenō) in 11:21 in his instruction to “continue your labor” (NETS) or “keep at your job” (NRSV). 23. Sirach uses the noun ekdikēsis (“vengeance”) and the verb ekdikeō (“to avenge”), whereas Leviticus uses the verb ekdikazō (“to avenge”). 24. In the Septuagint the verb occurs in Ps 102:9 [Hebrew 103:9] and Jer 3:12. 25. The noun (mēnis) is found in Gen 49:7 and Num 35:21. Sirach has a variant of this verb (mēniaō, “to cherish anger”) in 10:6, a sister text that warns against being too easily angered by injuries (adikēma; also used in Sirach 28:2) caused by a neighbor, and

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resorting to violent (NRSV “insolent”) acts (en ergois hybreōs). The related noun mēnima “wrath” occurs in Sirach 40:5. 26. The preferred terms for anger in Sirach are orgē (“anger, wrath”) and thumos (“anger, wrath”), which occur 21 times and 18 times respectively. The use of nonstandard vocabulary in Sirach 27:31–28:7 lends support to the suggestion that the translator was influenced in his choice of terminology by the Septuagint translation of Lev 19:18. 27. Zerbe has also noted several points of contact between these texts and concluded that the Sirach text is an exposition of Lev 19:17–18a, Non-Retaliation in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts, 40–41. 28. In Leviticus 19:18 the reference to the neighbor comes in the second half of the verse. 29. Kugel, “On Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach,” 47. 30. Verse 2 has a conditional imperative aphiēmi (“forgive”) followed by a future tense verb. While the imperative retains something of its injunctive character, the persuasive force of this verse owes at least as much to the apodosis “and then your sins will be pardoned.” 31. Sirach 9:15; 19:20; 28:6–7; 32:15, 34; 38:34. 32. “So they impaled Haman on the pole he had set up for Mordecai” (Esth 7:10 NIV). 33. A. Cowley, Aramaic Papyri, 216; also ANET, 429a. Lichtenstein observes, “In the context of biblical literature, poetic justice is divine retribution, and thus implicit in the imagery of the recoiling weapon is the active intervention of the Deity,” Murray H. Lichtenstein, “The Poetry of Poetic Justice: A Comparative Study in Biblical Imagery,” JANES 5 (The Gaster Festschrift) (1973): 262. 34. The imperative “remember” has the sense “remember so as to keep.” 35. Unless noted otherwise, the translation of the Testaments that appears here is that of H. C. Kee in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Garden City: Doubleday, 1983), 1:775–828. 36. There has been a longstanding debate over whether the Testaments are a Jewish compilation or Christian compilation that draws on Jewish sources. On the whole a Jewish origin with Christian interpolations best accounts for the character of the Testaments, “Given the small number of demonstrably Christian passages, it seems more likely that the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs is a Jewish work with some Christian additions,” James C. VanderKam, Introduction to Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 101. See also Craig A. Evans, Ancient Texts for New Testament Studies (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 40; David A. deSilva, “The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs as Witnesses to Pre-Christian Judaism: A Re-Assessment,” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 23 (2013): 22; Kugel, “Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,” 1697–1701. 37. Gad’s testament, more than any of the eleven other testaments, is concerned with the evils of hatred, and so it is appropriate that he should incorporate into his discussion a text that begins, “Do not hate your fellow in your heart . . .” (Lev 19:17a). 38. H. W. Hollander and M. de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Commentary (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985), 332. 39. The four imperatives in these two injunctions are arranged chiastically. 40. The second half of the unit takes up the subject of how to respond when others, including the wicked, prosper (7:1–7). 41. Hollander and de Jonge, Kugel, and Zerbe have each noted some commonality with Lev 19:17–18: Hollander and de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, 333; Kugel, “On Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach,” 50; Zerbe, Non-Retaliation in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts, 147 n.30. 42. The soul must be entirely rid of hatred, otherwise a person will revert to hatred when circumstances permit. Gad illustrates this from his own experience: he was able to speak peaceably to Joseph in front of their father, but then had a burning desire to kill him when he was away from Jacob’s presence (T.Gad 6:2).

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43. The reference to “heart” here is all the more significant because it is the first reference to the heart in T.Gad. “Heart” and “brother” reflect the language of Lev 19:17a “Do not hate your fellow (ton adelphoν) in your heart.” 44. Departing from Kee who favors, “spoke about Joseph.” It is preferable to take the dative as indicating the one to whom Gad spoke, which is the sense of the dative in verse 3, “speak to him in peace.” 45. Hollander and de Jonge observe that this text appears to be based on Proverbs 25:8–10, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, 333. Kugel thinks it “altogether possible that the original Hebrew text actually cited Prov 25:9–10 here, but that the words became garbled in transmission.” See further Kugel’s translation and comments on this text, “Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs” in Outside the Bible, eds. Louis H. Feldman, James L. Kugel, and Lawrence H. Schiffman (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2013), 2:1809. 46. Following Hollander and de Jonge, and Kugel, rather than Kee who understands elegchō in its alternative sense, “to (be) put to shame,” hence, “Even if he denies it and acts disgracefully out of a sense of guilt.” 47. Reading exaxēs with Hollander and de Jonge. This appears to have in mind the same problem as verse 4 where overly zealous reproof provoked swearing. Alternatively, Charles thinks mē elegchēs auton (“cease from reproving him”) may be the correct reading here, R. H. Charles, Greek Versions of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908), 168 n.48, and see his translation in The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1908), 157. 48. This translation is indebted to Kee, but with some modifications. 49. Confession and repentance are the proper response to reproof. Cf. Kugel, “Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach,” 51. 50. Hollander and de Jonge, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, 333; Kugel, “Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach,” 51. 51. Kugel observes, “The swearing involved the taking of a false or vain oath (“I swear I never did that!”); this is strictly forbidden in the Ten Commandments (Exod 20:7, Deut 5:11) and was considered a grievous sin in Second Temple times and afterward. If the person being reproved should swear in this manner, says Gad, the fault will be yours, in fact, ‘you will have sinned doubly,’ first in not properly following the provisions of Lev 19:17 (interpreted here as: ‘you shall surely reprove your fellow; but in such a way as to not bear a sin because of it [your reproving]);’ and second because, in so doing, you caused him to commit another sin,” “Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,” 1807. 52. On this theme of double wrong see Sirach 12:5; 20:10; 23:11, 23. Also see previous endnote. 53. Hollander and de Jonge explain that it is “because you did not speak peaceably to him and he swears falsely,” Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, 333. 54. The digression is likely dependent on Prov 25:8–10, see endnote 45. 55. The reference to the heart here alludes to his earlier point that all hatred must be expelled from the heart, and must be replaced with love (T.Gad 6:1–3). 56. Luke uses the verb epitimaō “to reproach, reprove, censure . . . speak seriously, warn” (BDAG, 384) rather than elenchō. 57. This point of commonality was observed long ago by Charles, The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English vol. 2, 292. 58. This no doubt reflects the reality that those in need of divine forgiveness seek it in prayer. And so Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, “Forgive . . . as we forgive . . .” (Matt 6:12). 59. This order is the reverse of Ben Sira’s, who states the warning against revenge first, and then the encouragement to forgive (Sirach 28:1–2). 60. Cf. Matthew 18:35.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958. Bash, Anthony. Just Forgiveness: Exploring the Bible, Weighing the Issues. London: SPCK, 2011. Blenkinsopp, Joseph. “Reconciliation in the Middle East: A Biblical Perspective.” Theology Today 65 (2008): 344–55. Charles, R. H. Greek Versions of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908. ———. The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. London: Adam and Charles Black, 1908. ———. The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English. Vol. 2. Oxford: Clarendon, 1913. Cowley, A. E. Aramaic Papyri of the Fifth Century B.C. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1923. Crenshaw, James L. “Sirach.” Pages 601–867 in The New Interpreter’s Bible: ProverbsSirach. Vol. V. Edited by Leander E. Keck and Richard J. Clifford. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1997. deSilva, David A. “The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs as Witnesses to PreChristian Judaism: A Re-Assessment.” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 23 (2013): 21–68. Driver, G. R. “Studies in the Vocabulary of the Old Testament.” JTS XXXII (1930): 361–66. Edersheim, A. “Ecclesiasticus.” Pages 1–239 in The Holy Bible According to the Authorized Version (A.D. 1611) with an Explanatory and Critical Commentary: Apocrypha. Vol. 2. Edited by Henry Wace. London: John Murray, 1888. Evans, Craig A. Ancient Texts for New Testament Studies. Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005. Fox, Michael V. Proverbs 10–31. AYB 18b. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2009. Griswold, Charles L. Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration. Cambridge: CUP, 2007. Held, Moshe. “Studies in Biblical Homonyms in the Light of Akkadian.” JANESCU 3 (1970–1971): 46–55. Hollander, H. W., and M. de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Commentary. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985. Kee, H. C. “Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.” Pages 775–828 in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Vol. 1. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. Garden City: Doubleday, 1983. Kugel, James L. “On Hidden Hatred and Open Reproach: Early Exegesis of Leviticus 19:17.” HTR 80.1 (1987): 43–61. ———. “Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.” Pages 1697–1855 in Outside the Bible: Ancient Jewish Writings Related to Scripture. Vol. 2. Edited by Louis H. Feldman, James L. Kugel, and Lawrence H. Schiffman. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2013. Levine, Baruch A. Leviticus. JPS Torah Commentary. Philadelphia, New York, Jerusalem: Jewish Publication Society, 1989. Lichtenstein, Murray H. “The Poetry of Poetic Justice: A Comparative Study in Biblical Imagery.” JANES 5 (The Gaster Festschrift) (1973): 255–65. Lichtheim, M. “The Instruction of Any.” Pages 135–46 in Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings. Vol. 2. Berkeley: University of California, 1976. Liddell, H. G., and R. Scott. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Milgrom, Jacob. Leviticus 17–22. AYB 3a. New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 2000. Muraoka, T. A Greek-English Lexicon of the Septuagint. Louvain: Peeters, 2009. Murphy, Jeffrie G. Getting Even: Forgiveness and Its Limits. Oxford: OUP, 2003. Oesterley, W. O. E. The Sayings of the Jewish Fathers (Pirke Aboth). London: SPCK, 1919. Pritchard, James B. (ed.). Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (3rd ed. with supplement), Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969.

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Skehan, Patrick W., and Alexander A. Di Lella. The Wisdom of Ben Sira. AB 39. New York: Doubleday, 1987. Snaith, John G. Ecclesiasticus or The Wisdom of Jesus Son of Sirach. Cambridge: CUP, 1974. van der Horst, P. W. “Pseudo-Phocylides.” Pages 565–82 in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Vol. 2. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. Garden City: Doubleday, 1985. VanderKam, James C. Introduction to Early Judaism. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000. Zerbe, Gordon M. Non-Retaliation in Early Jewish and New Testament Texts. Ethical Themes in Social Contexts. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993.

SIX The Art of Forgiveness in Luke’s Gospel Sarah Harris

The Third Gospel has many themes that the writer emphasizes to Theophilus as he navigates the depth and complexities of the story of Jesus Christ. Jesus is the human Christ who prays regularly to his Father; he is full of, and dependent upon, the Spirit in his life and ministry; Jesus is the divine Christ who forgives sin; he is the rabbi who models discipleship; he is the prophet who challenges the community to look to the poor; and he is the Good Shepherd who seeks out the lost sheep. His life interacts with those who are on the margins of the Jewish and the Graeco Roman world; he touches children, he eats with sinners, he travels with women, he heals lepers, and casts out demons. This Gospel will have deeply challenged the recipient, “most excellent Theophilus” (1:3), a man of status and probably wealth. Yet the overarching theme, the thread that ties all of these colored strands together, is that of universal salvation whereby God reaches out to all strata of society to gather his multi-colored world together. Concomitant to this is the forgiveness of sins whereby God receives humanity and which ultimately results in their ability to be received by, and live well in, the community. Luke’s Gospel has a primary focus on the good news of the forgiveness of sin (1:77; 3:3; 5:17–26, 32; 7:36–50; 11:4; 24:47). 1 In Jesus’ final words in the Gospel he commissions the disciples to preach repentance and forgiveness of sins in his name to everyone (24:47). Notably there is now a clear shift from the confines of Judaism in Jerusalem to the universal need of the nations to hear this message. Forgiveness matters; Luke understood this, and the

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fact that he discussed it repeatedly and in so many contexts suggests it is explicitly tied to the good news. This chapter aims to explore the Third Gospel’s vision of forgiveness and then place that in conversation with Philip Halstead's HEART forgiveness schema. The HEART framework has been devised to assist people with the difficult journey of forgiveness where the stages are to: Heed, Explore, Acknowledge, Review, and Target. Halstead says of his model that the five component parts should be viewed as the “interconnected chambers of a beating human heart” 2 and do not need to proceed in linear fashion; rather, these component parts are stages on the journey of forgiveness and may be repeatedly moved between. We will use the HEART model as a way of engaging the Zacchaeus story (19:1–10), and then finish with a New Zealand story of forgiveness where the Third Gospel fueled a journey of forgiveness. THE THIRD GOSPEL’S VISION OF FORGIVENESS In the Gospel the good news has a primary focus on the forgiveness of sins because there is a universal and pervasive problem of sin. Luke shows that there is no one in the community, not even the Jewish elite, who are not in need of repentance and forgiveness. This is most clearly seen in 13:1–5 where two no-fault stories are told. At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders 3 than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

The two stories have neutral parties; one group is the Galileans who were killed by Pilate and whose blood was most offensively mixed with an offering for the temple; a repugnant action of a person wielding power. This action by Pilate is known only from the biblical text, while historians record similar occasions: Alexander Janneus slaughtered 6,000 Jews during the Festival of Tabernacles in the early part of the first century BCE (Jos. Ant. 13.13.5 §372), and Archelaus killed 3,000 Jews in 4 BCE (Jos. Jewish War 2.1.3 §§8–13). Physical violence is an unfortunate part of world history and is not isolated. These Galileans were innocent victims for which Jesus states was not because of their personal sin; they were not worse sinners than all other Galileans (13:2). In the same way, when the tower of Siloam fell and killed eighteen people, they were innocent and this tragedy did not reflect on them over

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against others living in Jerusalem. “But unless you repent (which for Luke means to realign your actions and purposes with God), you will all perish as they did” (13:3, 5). Today we might say that these people “were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” or victims of corrupt government. Such people are innocent in human terms, yet in this passage Jesus tries to show that there are worse things than being in a natural disaster or caught up into war; being disconnected from God by sin is a grave reality. Jesus’ stories are often shocking: these ones are. In this story Jesus addresses two underlying issues; first, their simplistic and theologically inaccurate paradigm that believes that calamity in life is the direct result of past personal sin and, conversely, that blessing is simply a marker of human “goodness.” These two stories show clearly that neither the Galileans nor the Jerusalemites were to blame for their demise. Luke posits sin outside of simply moral or behavioral categories; it is most especially a relational problem (cf. 5:8). This challenged the Pharisees who viewed human behavior as the essential boundary markers which indicated one’s righteousness or unrighteousness; they looked for the classification of “sin” and “sinner” from external factors. This method resulted in inaccurate judgments which in this pericope Jesus shows as inadequate by turning the lens toward the internal and unseen world of the human soul where true connectedness to God is stewarded (7:36–50; 11:37–53; 18:9–14; 20:46–47). In 7:36–50 Simon the Pharisee looks pejoratively at the “sinful” woman at Jesus’ feet—he looks to human boundary markers—and so cannot perceive that her actions express her gratitude to Jesus who has forgiven her sin. Simon judges her sensual display inaccurately; the irony is that she is classed as “sinful” (7:37) while the narrative action reveals that her sin is forgiven while in comparison, Simon’s soul is impoverished. Similarly, in the parable of the Pharisee and the toll collector (18:9–14) it is not the religious disciplines of the Pharisee which Jesus elevates (as good as they were), but the humble actions of the toll collector who would not raise his eyes to heaven. He was the character who left the temple justified before God. Historically Pharisees and other religious leaders made sure they did “right actions”—in 11:42 they tithed mint and dill—but they neglected the heart of the law. Again in 20:46–47 the scribes made sure people saw their religious pedigree but then acted duplicitously. Their actions revealed their sin—their disconnection to God. While it is important to acknowledge that actions do indeed reveal one’s heart, the inward state of the heart matters too, and true faith for Luke shows itself only when these two cohere. In Luke’s Gospel the tables are turned on who are perceived as sinners; there is frequently an unlikely hero(ine) and more often than not, a religious villain. The problem of sin is universal, and not even the religious elite who think they are correctly positioned before God are immune from sin. So

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in 13:1–5 the category of “sinner” is used to include the entire audience and, as Dwayne Adams says, “even the reader.” 4 Luke’s forgiveness-salvation paradigm is notably Trinitarian; the Father, Son, and Spirit are involved in all stages of this process and of prime importance is that the starting point is in God, not humanity. In 1:77 Zechariah, filled with the Holy Spirit, declares that his son John will be the prophet of the Most High giving knowledge of God’s forgiveness of sins. John’s ministry precedes the Son, who is Savior (1:69) Luke writes. The triune God is at work to save and redeem Israel and guide them into the way of peace. The members of the Godhead work interconnectedly to bring healing and salvation, and this sets the pattern for human relationships which are also interconnected. While this pattern has been unseated through sin, Luke’s Gospel shows how God’s plan, enacted by Jesus and in the power of the Spirit, reorients people again to the divine schema. In this schema humanity is restored to God and to one another: children to parents, lepers to families and community, women to men, and Jew to Gentile. All of this is predicated on the work of God, the initiator and enabler of the forgiveness-salvation paradigm. In the prayer for Daily Bread, Jesus shows the starting place for forgiveness as God (11:2–4). God forgives human sin and this enables humanity to forgive others who have wronged them. The cycle begins with God; in finding his grace and freedom from sin, the Christian then offers this forgiveness to others. It is also helpful to note that the Gospel’s primary christological classification is that of Savior (1:69; 2:11), and that the language of “welcome” (δέχομαι) is frequently used as a linguistic indicator of a salvific encounter (2:28; 9:5, 48; 10:8; 18:17). 5 Jesus is established as Savior in the first chapters of Luke, paving the way for an early understanding of Jesus’ ministry and mission as salvific, and Luke ties this in closely to forgiveness (1:77; 3:3; 5:17–26, 32; 7:36–50; 11:4; 24:47). Therefore, while there is a universal problem with sin, there is a Savior who delivers humanity from sin. Jesus does this by allowing any person to draw close to him and in his physical welcome he ushers them into the kingdom of God. The Lukan Jesus does not require membership forms, Alpha courses, or visits from the elders. He eats with people, he talks with people, he heals their sickness and in this he brings humanity an experience of God and kingdom. Jesus’ ministry as Savior (of the sinner) stands in continuity with the past which Luke emphasizes through Old Testament quotes and allusions. The need for the forgiveness of sins is not a new problem, God has been dealing with this throughout human history and he continues to do so in the first century. John the Baptist’s ministry focuses on the baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins whereby he proclaims God’s work of salvation through Isaiah's words where empty valleys are filled and mountains are brought down to a level place (Luke 3:4–5; Isa 40:3–5

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LXX). 6 This vision of God’s salvific work demonstrates not only God’s immense power, but also the immensity of the task in bringing forgiveness and salvation to all flesh. The onus is, as we would expect, on God; it is divine work; John is merely the baptizer. Perhaps, as N.T. Wright says, his location on the edge of the Jordan River would have been interpreted by Israel as a new exodus where God is again acting to save the people from their enemies; 7 if so, this strengthens the image of sin which has a strong hold on humanity, for the image of slavery in Egypt was never far from Israel’s memory. Inherent in John’s message is that sin is equally powerful to keep Israel in chains, but God has acted again to set his people free, symbolized in the water, which washes away sin and impurity. In contrast to the water of baptism in John’s ministry, which may be understood as an alternative to the temple washing rites, is the wine at Jesus’ meal table where he welcomes and forgives sinners. The cost of this gathering at the table is seen most fully in the last supper where the wine is poured out for the community as a new covenant in Jesus’ blood (22:20), a reference to Moses’ ministry. At the meal Jesus takes the cup and gives it to the disciples who would later witness the cost of this action as he anguishes in the garden (22:39–46), is denied by his own followers (22:54–62), and is crucified as an innocent man through a trumped-up charge by the Jewish leaders (23:1–47). 8 The forgivenesssalvation paradigm is played out on various stages throughout salvationhistory as the problem of sin is constant. God’s act in and through Jesus as Savior stands in continuity with the past while showing the fullest expression of God’s love. The process of forgiveness and salvation begins with God as we have noted, but it also requires a human response. Zacchaeus had to come down from his tree and welcome Jesus into his home to find forgiveness (19:5–6). Jesus’ challenge to the ritually pure leaders to accept and welcome, even host sinners, demanded a costly response (15:1–32); they may miss an opportunity for temple worship where one must be ritually clean. 9 Yet these external boundaries did not seem to carry weight for Jesus as he sought out the lost sheep. In the prodigal parable the elder brother is given a choice for a response; will he join in the festivities upon his brother’s return? Will he celebrate that his dead brother has come to life? (15:25–32). The younger son has already made the decision to return to his father’s house while the cost for the father outweighs them all; he lost his son, considerable money, and it is most likely he lost a level of esteem in the community when his son left with his inheritance. That he was able to delight in the younger son’s return, run to him despite losing face in a society where older men do not run, and then host a banquet with the fatted calf (enough meat to ensure the whole community was there to welcome him), shows the immense cost of offering forgiveness to his son. The implied cost for the community should not go unmentioned; in attending the banquet they were also welcoming the returned son, and

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as he was again wearing his father’s ring, they would then be expected to recognize him in matters of his father’s business. Person to person forgiveness is not easy and involves many people exhibiting grace and love, and, as the elder brother shows, not all are ready to do so. The extent to which forgiveness costs is best conveyed through a theological reading of the gracious father. 10 This causes Ramaroson to identify these lost parables and, the prodigal in particular, as revealing the “heart of the Third Gospel”; 11 that is, in this story the nature of the forgiveness-salvation paradigm beats most strongly, but comes at considerable cost. The act of forgiveness may lead to bold new actions for it provides the context for people to grow. In the Lukan Gospel this is most clearly seen in the sinful woman in 7:36–50 who pours out her gratitude to Jesus for his forgiveness by weeping and kissing his feet and then wiping his feet with her hair. She is a woman who knew great sinfulness, but in encountering Jesus, she knew even greater forgiveness. Her new status as forgiven causes her to enter into a new social world and demonstrate her love. Simon’s reaction to her and especially Jesus, who embraces the woman’s action, shows his lack of personal experience with forgiveness. This religious leader who should know the depth of God’s forgiveness clearly does not. Turning toward the woman, Jesus says to Simon, “Do you see this woman?” (7:44). Simon cannot fathom just how deep God’s forgiveness is and how many barriers it will cross to find the one who is lost. I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little (7:44–47).

Forgiveness journeyed well and deeply finds a way to new action, bold action, and new ways to love and be loved. Simon knew theological truth but he had not known the depth of sorrow and height of love of this woman. His social world in the religious elite may in fact have been a barrier to his being able to view wider opportunities for forgiveness and love. Finally, the forgiveness of sins was a central matter for the new community. At the end of the Gospel Jesus commissions the wider group of disciples to proclaim repentance and the forgiveness of sins to all nations, which is what we see enacted in Acts. Notably this message is found in nearly all the evangelistic and apologetic speeches (2:38; 3:19; 5:31; 10:43; 13:38–39; 22:16; 26:18). Therefore, it is reasonable to suggest that forgiveness and salvation should form a central part of who Christians are theologically and dynamically; that is, it should be somewhere at the center of ecclesiology and praxis. Halstead’s study on forgiveness, however, has

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shown that Christians “do not know how to forgive effectively or where to go and learn about the meanings, practices, and implication of forgiveness.” 12 Learning how to forgive others and to be forgiven is quite literally an “art” that can and should be taught and practiced. Luke’s Gospel has many stories that show various stages of the forgiveness-salvation schema, but we will consider the story of Zacchaeus (19:1–10) and how the stages of the HEART method interact with his journey of forgiveness. ZACCHAEUS’ STORY Zacchaeus was a Jewish man, his name is Jewish and he is a “son of Abraham” (19:9), who works as a toll collector for the Romans. 13 Zacchaeus was good at his job, he was a “chief toll collector” and he was “rich” (19:2), but this wealth was gained by adding his own charge on to the toll he collected for the Empire. At this time there was no system of regulation and the system was easily abused, which is why toll collectors were notorious for their exhortative practices (see Jesus’ challenge to the toll collectors at 3:13). In Jericho, the townspeople clearly despised Zacchaeus for even though he wanted to see Jesus, the crowd formed a barrier when Jesus entered town, and because he was short he could not see over the tops of their shoulders. The people had little control over their lives but they could show their displeasure at Zacchaeus by physically excluding him. Not to be thwarted, Zacchaeus ran on ahead and climbed into the low branches of a sycamore tree for he wanted to see Jesus for himself. When Jesus came to the tree he stopped and looked up, calling out to Zacchaeus: “Hurry and come down, for today, I must stay at your house” (19:5). This extraordinary expression of Middle Eastern hospitality was tantamount to an act of forgiveness, 14 and so Zacchaeus did exactly as Jesus asked, and he did so with joy (19:6). Jesus’ words implied that it was indeed God’s plan to meet with him, 15 and his response showed he was willing to be humble before Jesus. This interaction however, displeased the crowd who grumbled in disgust, saying, “He has gone to be a guest with one who is a sinner!” For them, this seemed an utterly incongruent action for a Jewish rabbi; a rabbi was meant to maintain ritual purity and they were sure that Zacchaeus’ house would defile him, and so the sanctuary was at risk. Jesus’ actions were certainly out of step with the crowd’s sentiment. Yet, regardless of the crowd’s response, Zacchaeus addressed Jesus announcing a new practice of almsgiving and ethical business to which Jesus declared him to be a “son of Abraham,” and one who has found salvation, and finally announced that he was just the type of lost person God wanted to seek out and save!

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This story is a snapshot in chronological time, and yet it is helpful to consider this act and reception of forgiveness in more depth. What may have happened for Zacchaeus afterwards? What would the challenges have been for Zacchaeus to understand himself as one forgiven by God? As Halstead has shown, this is a process and not simply a singular event. Using his HEART schema, we will “faithfully imagine” what may have taken place. According to Halstead, Zacchaeus first needs to heed his psychological wound. This involves considering the wounds that others have inflicted through his ostracism from the community; he may consider the extent of his own personal hurt, isolation, and social disconnect. He will certainly need to ponder the name calling: “sinner” (19:7) we know of directly, but it is likely the community had other names for one so despised. Zacchaeus will also need to examine himself intra-personally. How is his internal self? Can he acknowledge his own pain from his isolation from God and the community? Halstead notes that if the person can comprehend “the reality and ramifications” of his or her wounds then he or she can explore forgiveness with specific wounds in mind. 16 Secondly, he will need to explore the influences which have led him to this point of acknowledging he needed help. What were the factors which contributed to his disconnection from his Jewish community? His exhortative practices? His work for the Roman oppressors? His focus on becoming rich instead of maintaining and developing a stable community relationship? Zacchaeus might need to explore why he had stayed in this cycle as an oppressor. He may think about the role of the dominant culture (GraecoRoman) and how this has negatively impinged on his life. Has he been bowing to cultural pressure from the Romans over against his Jewish community? He may consider the negative systemic cycles of cultural apparatus. Awareness and naming will help enable his journey of forgiveness. As Halstead notes, he must also concede his own conduct, attitudes, and sinful disposition which may have induced the community to wound him. 17 The third component in this process is to acknowledge the key Jewish traditions to resource his journey and deepen his understanding of God and God’s work in and through the world. Zacchaeus will need to remind himself of his encounter with Jesus in the tree where he called him by name and spoke to him with a sense of divine urgency, and when he came to his house and he found God’s forgiveness and welcome. As a Jewish man and now as a Jesus follower, he will value from engaging with the scriptures as a way of finding ongoing connection to and forgiveness from God. Attention to the pervasive problem of sin in history, and God’s dealing with humanity in their sinfulness, may help Zacchaeus to see himself and his community’s action in the light of the fallredemption narrative. Certainly, a teleological view will be necessary.

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This will in turn equip him to continue to forgive the community for what they have done to him. Participation in the Jewish synagogue should help him develop theological thinking which will aid his maturity. It would undoubtedly be helpful for Zacchaeus to address God deliberately as Savior in his prayers, acknowledging his own sinfulness and accepting God’s ongoing salvation. This is a daily process for Luke and covers every area of life: spiritual and relational, physical and financial, the internal world and the external world. Zacchaeus will need to keep in mind key truths to sustain his own emotional and cognitive health; for example, he is not more or less a sinner than anyone else. The fourth part in this process of forgiveness is reviewing and deepening his understanding of his forgiveness journey to enable him to press forward and not look back. 18 This stage requires that he examine the previous obstacles he encountered and look ahead to new boundaries. In reviewing his journey, he will be less likely to enter into the same cycles again. He could be deliberate in his meditation and prayer as he reviews his journey; this will help him to organize his thoughts and over time assess his development. For Zacchaeus to get on with his life and thrive he will need to ensure he has actually forgiven the community for their offense. Likewise, he should continue to ask and assess if he has forgiven himself for his actions toward the community and God. An organized process will ensure his cycles of forgiveness are actually turning in a healthy direction. Further, as he analyzes his progress toward wholeness, and as he fails and as he turns back to God’s love, he needs to remember that this difficult journey still begins with God; when he sets his face to his inner world he cannot save himself, God alone can do that. Over time his emotional bank will be added to and he can again forgive others the wounds done to him. The final component in this dynamic process is targeting future forgiveness goals. What will Zacchaeus do now? How will he live? How will he practice business? How will he remember this one-day encounter so its legacy goes on? It may be all too easy to forget his encounter with Jesus. Halstead suggests that creating a personal ritual may be beneficial whereby he continues to thank God for his forgiving love; if his own internal soundbites are negative, he may benefit from “a series of [guided] penitential steps” to help him slowly transform his negative self-image into a positive one. 19 As he notes, targeting new goals should be in line with God’s will which is best understood by Zacchaeus as the Shema, the law, and the Old Testament scriptures in general. For example, scriptures such as the Shema (Deut 6:4) could become part of Zacchaeus’ long-term memory, and so be a resource tool for him. If Zacchaeus can focus on key truths, he will be able to more easily bring to mind central gospel claims. The act of remembering is powerful for the

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soul; it is an act which brings the self under God’s wisdom and truth, and this enables the soul to find focus, rest, and refreshment. Similarly, first century Jewish prayer cycles would be healthy for his soul to find daily rituals and sustaining prayers. 20 Jewish prayer is markedly theocentric; a healthy place for a grieving self, therefore, connecting with synagogue and temple rituals should aid the development of Godcentered disciplines. This time will also ensure he rubs shoulders with his community and so build relationships again. Over time he may desire to sit at table with community members enjoying food and a greater level of human connection. As we have seen in the story of the sinful woman, the forgiveness journey may lead to bold new actions for Zacchaeus. What they might be we cannot suggest, but this journey of forgiveness is just that—a journey—and Zacchaeus must stay on that path if his wounds are to heal well. The road of forgiveness is not easy but the fruit from it can be significant. I finish with a New Zealand (NZ) story where quite literally both personal and local history was changed when the story of the Lukan Jesus who offers forgiveness was received, and subsequently lived. TĀRORE’S STORY Tārore was the young daughter of Ngākuku, a Māori chief in Waharoa, New Zealand. She attended a CMS (Church Missionary Society) mission school in Matamata run by Alfred and Charlotte Brown where she learned to read and write te reo Māori and where she heard stories of Jesus. Tārore was a good student and Charlotte awarded her a prize for excellent progress: a copy of the Gospel of Luke. She carried her new book in a flax kete 21 around her neck. The story it held confirmed her commitment to the Gospel and it also convinced her father, Ngākuku, to follow Christianity. Unfortunately, Tārore’s life was cut short when a raiding party came across her and others at their camp in the Kaimai Ranges and she was struck down by the warrior, Uita. Tārore was only twelve when she died; her life was just beginning. After raids the party used to plunder possessions which may be valuable, and Uita spied the book in the kete around Tārore’s neck, and took it. The traditional response to such a raid was utu (revenge) which took a life for a life, but Ngākuku preached against any human reprisal at her funeral, looking instead to God’s justice which he had learnt through the Gospel stories. Tārore’s life, though short, was not one without a legacy. Like the seed planted in good soil which continues to bear fruit (8:8), the Gospel took root in the life of her killer, Uita. He was unable to read the book but when Ripahau from Ngāti Raukawa in the Bay of Islands visited, he read the Gospel aloud and Uita heard the message of forgiveness. This caused him to repent of his actions, and undertake the risky journey to visit

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Ngākuku and ask for forgiveness. Uita would have expected the tribe to seek revenge for Tārore’s death, but he was greeted instead with Ngākuku’s peaceful resolve. Thus the traditional ways of utu were set aside. The story does not end there. Ripahau came in contact later with Katu Te Rauparaha from Kapiti Island, the son of another chief, where he was also called upon to read from the Gospel. Katu (now known as Tamihana Te Rauparaha) took the scriptures to the South Island where he proclaimed forgiveness and peace to enemies of his father’s tribe; this message was again at work to bear great fruit. NOTES 1. I call the author of the Third Gospel “Luke” while this does not imply the author’s identity. 2. P. J. Halstead, “The Forgiveness Matters Course: A Theologically and Psychologically Integrated Approach to Help Churchgoing Adults Process Their Parental Wounds,” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 14.2 (2012): 88. See also, P. J. Halstead, “Forgiveness Matters: The Psychometric and Qualitative Study of the Development of a Forgiveness Course for New Zealand Churchgoing Adults Exploring Parental Relationships” (2 vols.; PhD diss., University of Auckland, 2009). 3. Luke uses ὀφειλέτης in 13:4; which is used synonymously with ἁμαρτωλός (13:2). 4. Dwayne H. Adams, The Sinner in Luke. ETSMS (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2008), 152. 5. The parable of the sower talks of “welcoming (or receiving) the word with joy” (8:13), a salvation image that will become established in Acts (Acts 8:14; 11:1; 17:11). 6. The LXX, the Septuagint, is the Greek version of the Old Testament. 7. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, Christian Origins and the Question of God 2 (London: SPCK, 1996), 160. 8. The Lukan Jesus is declared “not guilty” repeatedly in the Passion story (23:4, 14, 15, 41, 47). 9. Jacob Neusner describes the Pharisees as a “table fellowship sect” and Marcus Borg comments on their table fellowship practices as their “survival symbol.” See Neusner, From Politics to Piety: The Emergence of Pharisaic Judaism (New York: Ktav, 1979), 80; Borg, Conflict, Holiness and Politics in the Teachings of Jesus, SBC 5 (Harrisburg: Trinity, 1998), 96. 10. Sarah Harris, The Davidic Shepherd King in the Lukan Narrative, LNTS 558 (London: T and T Clark, 2016), 93. 11. Léonard Ramaroson, “Le coeur du Troisième Évangile: Lc 15,” Bib 60 (1979): 338–360. 12. Halstead, “Forgiveness Matters,” Vol 1, ii. 13. Toll collectors were private contractors who collected indirect taxes such as tolls, customs, and duties from the local people, which they then handed on to the Empire. The land and head tax were direct taxes which were collected by Jewish councils and were collected separately. See Joel Green, Gospel of Luke (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 179. 14. Harris, Davidic Shepherd King, 99. 15. Note the language of necessity (δεῖ), the urgency of “today” (σήμερον), and the remaining (μένω) in his house. 16. Halstead, “The Forgiveness Matters Course,” 88. 17. Halstead, “Forgiveness Matters,” Vol. 2, 31.

98 18. 19. 20. 21.

Sarah Harris Halstead, “Forgiveness Matters,” Vol. 2, 88. Halstead, “Forgiveness Matters,” Vol. 2, 99. See James H. Charlesworth, “Prayer in Early Judaism,” ABD 5:449–450. A kete is a bag made of woven flax.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Adams, Dwayne H. The Sinner in Luke. ETSMS. Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2008. Borg, Marcus. Conflict, Holiness and Politics in the Teachings of Jesus. SBC 5. Harrisburg: Trinity, 1998. Charlesworth, James H. “Prayer in Early Judaism.” ABD 5:449–450. Green, Joel. Gospel of Luke. NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997. Halstead, P. J. “Forgiveness Matters: The Psychometric and Qualitative Study of the Development of a Forgiveness Course for New Zealand Churchgoing Adults Exploring Parental Relationships.” 2 vols.; PhD diss., University of Auckland, 2009. ———. “The Forgiveness Matters Course: A Theologically and Psychologically Integrated Approach to Help Churchgoing Adults Process Their Parental Wounds.” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 14.2 (2012): 85–110. Harris, Sarah. The Davidic Shepherd King in the Lukan Narrative. LNTS 558. London: T and T Clark, 2016. Neusner, Jacob. From Politics to Piety: The Emergence of Pharisaic Judaism. New York: Ktav, 1979. Ramaroson, Léonard. “Le coeur du Troisième Évangile: Lc 15.” Bib 60 (1979): 338–360. Wright, N. T. Jesus and the Victory of God. Christian Origins and the Question of God 2. London: SPCK, 1996.

SEVEN Forgiveness An Anabaptist Perspective Mark S. Hurst

In the years my wife Mary and I have been teaching about peacemaking, nothing has caught people’s attention more than the Amish community’s response to the shooting of ten schoolgirls in Pennsylvania on 2 October 2006. The community responded with forgiveness. This linkage of forgiveness and peacemaking goes back to the sixteenth century Anabaptist movement and stories out of the Martyrs’ Mirror, 1 which every Amish family has. The Anabaptist tradition continues to link forgiveness and peacemaking and has produced many stories of people who over the years have made these connections in many different difficult situations. In a book on forgiveness it will be instructive to listen to the witness of the Amish community to practices and examples of forgiveness and reconciliation. This chapter will explore some of these stories, starting with the schoolgirls shooting. WEST NICKEL MINES AMISH SCHOOL 2 October 2006 is the date of the tragic schoolhouse shooting at the West Nickel Mines Amish school, in southern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. A local milk truck driver, Charlie Roberts, took ten girls (aged 6 to 13) hostage in a one-room Amish school and unleashed his anger toward God for the death of his firstborn daughter nine years earlier by shooting the Amish girls execution-style. Five of them died and five survived although seriously injured. 2 99

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The story captured the attention of broadcast and print media in the United States and around the world. By Tuesday morning some fifty television crews had clogged the small village of Nickel Mines, staying for five days until the killer and the killed were buried. The blood was barely dry on the schoolhouse floor when Amish parents brought words of forgiveness to the family of the one who had slain their children. The outside world was incredulous that such forgiveness could be offered so quickly for such a heinous crime. Of the hundreds of media queries about the shooting, questions about forgiveness rose to the top. Forgiveness, in fact, eclipsed the tragic story, trumping the violence and arresting the world's attention. Within a week of the murders, Amish forgiveness was a central theme in more than 2,400 news stories around the world. The Washington Post, the New York Times, USA Today, Newsweek, NBC Nightly News, CBS Morning News, Larry King Live, Fox News, Oprah, and dozens of other media outlets heralded the forgiving Amish. From the Khaleej Times (United Arab Emirates) to Australian television, international media were opining on Amish forgiveness. Three weeks after the shooting, “Amish forgiveness” had appeared in 2,900 news stories worldwide and on 534,000 websites. Fresh from the funerals where they had buried their own children, grieving Amish families accounted for half of the seventy-five people who attended the killer’s burial. Roberts’ widow was deeply moved by their presence as Amish families greeted her and her three children. The forgiveness went beyond talk and graveside presence: the Amish also supported a fund for the shooter's family. THE AMISH AND THE DIXIE CHICKS We awoke that terrible day in Australia to news of innocent Amish schoolgirls being gunned down in their one-room schoolhouse in Pennsylvania. It was like being kicked in the stomach. What a way to start the day. We know the Amish. We grew up in that part of Pennsylvania and are part of the larger Anabaptist family where the Amish have their roots. Mary taught in an Amish school and once in the public school in the area of the shooting. A sister-in-law of ours worked with the shooter’s wife at a local dairy. I worked on an Amish building crew where I was their “English” driver. (The Amish have an easy way of dividing the world— you are either Amish or English.) Rather than calling for vengeance, more security at schools, and tighter gun laws, the Amish reached out to the shooter’s family with offers of forgiveness. Yes, they were hurting. Yes, they were grieving; but in a way that has sustained them for hundreds of years. They know about suffer-

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ing. But they know that forgiveness will heal them quicker than bitterness and revenge. They believe in restorative justice rather than retributive justice. In past murder cases where Amish have been victims, the community refused to cooperate with a justice system that sought retribution rather than reconciliation and they embraced the offenders rather than hated them. As we were trying to take in the events happening in our home state of Pennsylvania, we got a phone call from a television producer at Channel Seven in Sydney. She found us through our Anabaptist Association website and wanted some background information on the Amish. When she learned of our personal connection to the area she invited us to appear on their Sunrise program the next day. So, at five a.m. the following morning we found ourselves being whisked away to the Channel Seven studio to “lift the veil on the Amish” (as one promo for our appearance said). The studio was buzzing when we arrived. Large crates of musical and stage equipment filled hallways and backstage on the set. Men in black lingered, drinking their morning coffee. It turned out that they were the band and stage crew for the Dixie Chicks who were appearing live on the show that day. All of these people and equipment for two songs and a five-minute interview! Adoring fans travelled from country areas to stand outside the studio at Martin Place and look through the windows at the backs of the Dixie Chicks as they performed. And we were there to talk about the Amish. The contrast was mind-boggling. The Dixie Chicks sang their then-current hit song Not Ready to Make Nice where they sing about their anger over being shunned by fans and radio stations for criticizing President Bush and his Iraq war policy. Some of the words of the song are: “Forgive, sounds good. Forget, I'm not sure I could”; and “I'm not ready to make nice, I'm not ready to back down.” 3 In the interview after their song they talked about being in Sydney to shop. They joked about coming out of stores with boxes and boxes of stuff they bought as soon as they arrived in the city. The contrast between the Amish and their way of life and the Dixie Chicks and their lifestyle was jarring. The Amish nurture their children on Gelassenheit and Nachfolge. These German words are often translated as “yieldedness” and “discipleship.” They yield themselves to God and try to follow the way of Jesus in a life of simplicity and non-resistance. The Dixie Chicks model the best of the American way of life – success, over-indulgence, and materialism. They live to shop and consume. We were asked in our Sunrise interview if this tragic shooting in Pennsylvania would change the Amish. I replied, “I hope not.” We need more people modelling their way of life. We need people showing us how to forgive and live simply and gently in a world of terror and war.

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Compassion for a Killer’s Family Terri Roberts, the mother of the shooter in the Nickel Mines tragedy, was asked in an interview, “How did the Amish community respond to your family?” The following was her response. 4 On the day that it happened, Henry, our Amish neighbor up on the hill, whom I call an “angel in black,” came to our house. My husband provided transportation for the Amish when they needed to travel by car, and he was just devastated. All day long, my husband couldn’t lift his head. He kept taking a towel and wiping it over his head—he just kept wiping the tears away and couldn’t lift his head up at all. And then Henry came, and he was the first sign of healing for my husband. He put his hand on my husband’s shoulder, just stood there and comforted and consoled him for an hour. Henry said, “Roberts, we love you,” and just kept affirming and assuring him. The acceptance we have received from the Amish community is beyond any words. To be able to have a community of people that have been hurt so much by what our son did and yet to have them respond to us the way that they have has been an incredible journey.

Long-Term Forgiveness On the fourth anniversary of the shooting, Donald Kraybill said in an interview that he spoke with two of the fathers who had daughters who were victims of the shooting. They told him that four of the survivors recovered well and lived fairly normal lives despite their psychological scars that they will always carry. One of the girls still required ongoing surgeries to mend her shoulder. The fifth survivor, Rosanna, had not fared as well. Wheelchair-bound, tube fed, and not able to walk or talk, she responds to people with smiles and gestures. She suffers from internal pain that physicians have not been able to identify. When able, she attends a special public school for children with severe brain injuries. She requires continuous care. Neighbors, both Amish and English, provide assistance to the family. The mother of Charlie Roberts comes to Rosanna’s home about once a week and reads and sings to her. The teacher and some of the older boys who were in the school that day struggle with what psychologists call survivor’s guilt, as they continually rethink the event and what they might have done differently. As the old adage suggests, time does heal, but the memories of such a horrific event leave deep psychological scars that are not easily forgotten. The parents of the children that were in the schoolhouse that day meet about once every other month for visiting and mutual support. These gatherings have facilitated the healing process through care and mutual support. The parents typically meet informally together on a day close to

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the anniversary to visit and reflect quietly on how that horrific day changed their lives. Kraybill remarks, “As time goes on all of the families have readjusted their lives back to their normal routines. Some have welcomed new babies into their family and life goes on. But the scars and the memories will always linger especially when the leaves begin to color as the fall turns from September to October.” 5 State Trooper Jonathan Smith A June 2015 newspaper article tells one of the side stories from the Nickel Mines tragedy. 6 The article was about the death by cancer of Pennsylvania State Trooper Jonathan A. Smith. After the 2006 shooting he paid repeated visits to the Amish girls who survived. Amos Fisher, great uncle to one of the shooting victims, said he was amazed at how Trooper Smith lovingly interacted with the girls. “He helped ease the pain.” One of the surviving girls, now a teenager, was among the Amish families who visited Smith by his deathbed and prayed for him in his dying days. Trooper Smith was a military veteran remembered as a gentle giant. He had little contact with the Amish community before the shooting. On the day, he was one of the first to enter the schoolhouse after hearing gunshots inside. He smashed out one of the windows with his shield and then began carrying out the wounded girls. He and nine of his colleagues were awarded the State Police Medal of Honor for their actions. The incident haunted Smith. He returned often to the community and developed friendships among the Amish families. One parent remembered seeing him in uniform, playing baseball with kids in the newly built school. The Nickel Mines tragedy brought this ex-soldier together with people who have rejected military involvement from their beginnings in 1693. Under normal circumstances these people would not have met but the tragedy and its amazing forgiveness response helped forge this remarkable relationship. What Was Learned The tragedy and its aftermath have been written about in a number of books, including: Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy; and Forgiveness: A Legacy of the West Nickel Mines Amish School. 7 In researching Amish Grace the authors discovered the following lessons regarding forgiveness. First, forgiveness for the Amish is a religious imperative based on the teachings of Jesus. They frequently cited Bible verses, including verses in and immediately following the Lord’s Prayer, that underscore their belief

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that, “if we don’t forgive we won’t be forgiven.” Second, forgiveness among the Amish is encouraged by communal practices (e.g., twice-yearly worship services that emphasize forgiveness and reconciliation) and sustained by communal memory (e.g., reciting stories of sixteenth-century Christian martyrs who readily forgave their persecutors). Third, the researchers discovered that the acts of forgiveness at Nickel Mines were not an aberration, but a long-standing practice in the Amish community. Dozens of historical examples show Amish forgiveness in the face of tragedy. Fourth, the immediate decision to forgive, inspired by their religious faith, started an emotional and spiritual process of forgiving that remains ongoing. Fifth, the investigators found that the Amish practice of shunning excommunicated members is related to, but distinct from, their understanding of forgiveness. For the Amish, shunning does not imply a refusal to forgive, but reflects a sincere attempt to hold wayward members accountable to their baptismal vows. Sixth, for the Amish, forgiveness means letting go of grudges and ill will toward those who wrong them. It does not mean condoning, pardoning, or forgoing punishment. They support imprisonment for those determined guilty of crimes by the American judicial system. Finally, forgiveness set the groundwork for many ongoing reconciliation activities between the Amish families and the killer’s widow, his parents, and his parents-in-law, all of whom live near Nickel Mines. John Ruth in Forgiveness: A Legacy of the West Nickel Mines Amish School says: The Amish approach to life centers on forgiveness. . . . Is anger a necessary response to outrageous loss? The Amish, born with the same capacities as any other humans, would not think so. Startled by the depth of the world’s sympathy after the Nickel Mines tragedy, they wondered why so many found their attitude intriguing. Aren’t Christians to live in, not merely idealize, forgiveness? 8

FORGIVENESS IN ANABAPTIST HISTORY Many Anabaptists, including the Amish, grew up hearing the stories from Martyrs’ Mirror, a classic 1660 Dutch religious history, memorializing the godly lives and glorious deaths of thousands of early Christians, especially European Anabaptist martyrs between 1524 and 1660. Two significant stories are retold below. Dirk Willems One story all Anabaptists know is that of Dirk Willems. Willems was originally captured in 1569 by “papists” for the crime of following and promoting the idea of rebaptism—a precursor to today’s Amish and

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Mennonite practice of adult baptism. 9 Willems ended up imprisoned in a tower near his home in Asperen in the Netherlands. He later escaped by tying cloth together and shimmying down the walls. As he fled, a guard saw him and took off in hot pursuit. Coming to a pond covered with thin ice, Willems chanced it and crossed, making it safely to the other side. His pursuer was not so fortunate. The “thief-catcher” cracked through the ice to plunge into the freezing water below. Amazingly, instead of making an easy getaway, Willems turned back and rescued the guard from a likely death. He was subsequently recaptured and later burned at the stake. Some inhabitants of present-day Asperen, none of them Mennonite, regard Dirk as a folk hero. A Christian, so compassionate that he risked recapture in order to save the life of his drowning pursuer, stimulates respect and memory. Recently Asperen named a street in Dirk’s honor. One blogger who came across Dirk’s story wrote: I was so moved by this incredible example of compassion for one’s enemy. Self-sacrificial love is the mark of Christianity and it is always a sacrifice to love one’s enemies. It doesn’t make sense in light of this present age but when we keep our eyes on the soon coming kingdom when all will be made right, suddenly with God’s help the impossible becomes reality. 10

The Mystery of the Thatch “The Mystery of the Thatch” is another story from Anabaptist history told in the children’s book Coals of Fire. 11 The book tells seventeen true stories about returning love for hate, good for evil, taken from various cultures and time periods. The title of the book is based on Romans 12:20–21, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals upon his head. Do not overcome evil by doing evil, but overcome evil with good.” Pastor Peter, an eighteenth-century Mennonite pastor in a village in the Emmenthal, Switzerland, is the hero in “The Mystery of the Thatch.” This was at a time when Mennonites were still being persecuted in Switzerland. Peter woke in the middle of the night to the sound of men on his roof removing his thatch. A group of young men felt it would be fun to persecute Peter and his wife by vandalizing his house. After a quick prayer for wisdom, Peter woke his wife and said, “Mother, workmen have come to us; you had better prepare a meal.” When the breakfast was ready and on the table, Peter opened the door and called to the young men on his roof. “You have worked long and hard. Surely you are hungry. Now come in to us and eat.” Sheepishly, the men entered the house and stood around the table. Peter urged them to be seated and then bowed his head and prayed for his guests and their families. When the last words of the prayer were

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spoken, the young men raised faces flushed with shame. Food was passed and plates were filled but the men could not eat. Suddenly, the men pushed back their chairs, rose and left the house. Once again, the sound of men working on the roof could be heard inside the home. But this time it was the sound of thatch going back on the roof. The men finished their work and fled into the night. RECENT ANABAPTIST WITNESS TO FORGIVENESS AND RECONCILIATION Journey Toward Forgiveness is a video project produced by the American National Council of Churches as a documentary for the American ABCTV network and later shown on a number of cable channels. 12 The documentary tells moving stories of persons facing anger and forgiveness in the face of violent or wrongful death, near-death from racial injustice, terminal illness, and other stories. The documentary demonstrates that those who are able to embark on a process towards forgiveness—though heartrending and difficult—find it to be the path to inner healing. One powerful story told in the documentary is of Chief Lawrence Hart. 13 Lawrence Hart is a Cheyenne peace chief and a Mennonite pastor. Deborah Froese narrates an incident that Hart says taught him the true significance of being a Peace Chief. Each year the town of Cheyenne re-enacted the original 1868 Battle of Washita when General Custer attacked the camp of Cheyenne Peace Chief Black Kettle. On the 100th anniversary of battle the town invited Hart and his people, including other Peace Chiefs, to join them. Hart accepted on the condition that the bones of the people who died in the battle, on display in the Black Kettle Museum, be allowed a burial place. The town agreed. After the re-enactment the burial ceremony began, and as it did; “A Cheyenne woman removed a beautiful Pendleton blanket from her shoulders, folded it and placed it on the coffin in tribute to her ancestors.” According to tradition, this blanket was required to be given away. Hart laid it across the shoulders of the Captain of the regiment. “That was a moment that people will never forget, an act of reconciliation. Throughout the crowd in the cold and snow, there was not a dry eye.” 14 Radical reconciliation followed. The emotional impact of Hart’s story is not lost on those who hear it. Hart admits that he often sees tears in response. He believes that forgiveness and reconciliation can have a compelling effect that can transcend generations. FORGIVENESS AS VIRTUE In David Augsburger’s excellent book Dissident Discipleship: A Spirituality of Self-surrender, Love of God, and Love of Neighbor, a distinction is made

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between “values” and “virtues.” He writes, “Community is where one learns virtues, not where one chooses values.” 15 He describes virtues as “practices formed by community, modelled in community, and taught by community, that express what is good, right and worthy. Virtues are habits, and what we do habitually, naturally, without pretense reveals our character.” 16 “To call the church a community of virtues is to identify the habits of the church. The church is that body which out of habit tells the truth; which out of habit loves enemies, feeds the hungry, forgives sinners; which out of habit praises God for what we have received . . . prays and worships.” 17 Augsburger quotes John Howard Yoder in saying “nothing is real until it is embodied. The community of faith must be a community of deeds.” 18 And from John Milbank he learns the following: “For one to belong to the church means one has become part of those practices of perfection that make us capable of becoming friends with one another, friends with ourselves, and friends with God.” 19 Making a habit of forgiveness, peacemaking, and reconciliation is what we are all called to do. These few stories from the Amish community, both ancient and modern, illustrate how costly but crucial forgiveness and reconciliation are. More than a platitude or “religious idea,” forgiveness and reconciliation are the foundations upon which disciples of Christ live out their devotion to Christ in their daily lives. NOTES 1. Thieleman J. van Braght, Martyrs’ Mirror: The Story of Seventeen Centuries of Christian Martyrdom from the Time of Christ to A.D. 1660 (Scottdale: Herald Press, 1938). 2. See the haunting poem by John McCutcheon “Forgive Us,” This Fire: Politics, Love and Other Small Miracles (NP: Appalsongs, 2007), https://www.allmusic.com/ album/this-fire-politics-love-and-other-small-miracles-mw0001211085. 3. Dixie Chicks, “Not Ready to Play Nice,” Taking the Long Way (Nashville: Columbia, 2006). 4. “Healing on Both Sides of the Nickel Mines Tragedy, Four Years On,” Amish America, http://amishamerica.com/healing-on-both-sides-of-the-nickel-mines-tragedyfour-years-on 5. “Healing on Both Sides of the Nickel Mines Tragedy, Four Years On,” Amish America, http://amishamerica.com/healing-on-both-sides-of-the-nickel-mines-tragedyfour-years-on 6. “Amish Nickel Mines Community Mourns Death of Trooper Who was Hero During and After Schoolhouse Shootings,” Lancaster Online (Saturday, June 13, 2015), http://lancasteronline.com/news/local/amish-nickel-mines-community-mourns-deathof-trooper-who-was/article_cbd613e0-112b-11e5-8366-5ba6f350e665.html 7. Donald B. Kraybill and Steven M. Nolt, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy (San Francisco: Jossey Bass, 2007), and the website http:// amishgrace.com; and John L. Ruth, Forgiveness: A Legacy of the West Nickel Mines Amish School (Scottdale: Herald Press, 2007). 8. Ruth, Forgiveness, 37. 9. van Braght, Martyrs’ Mirror, 741–742. 10. https://loveyourenemies.wordpress.com/2007/04/24/dirk-willems

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11. Elizabeth Hershberger Bauman, Coals of Fire, (Scottdale: Herald Press, 1954), 55–58. Source: John Horsch, The Principle of Nonresistance as Held by the Mennonite Church. (Scottdale: Mennonite Publishing House, 1939). 12. Journey Towards Forgiveness, http://www.journeytowardforgiveness.com/settingout 13. His story is also told in the book by Rayline Hinz-Penner, Searching for Sacred Ground: The Journey of Chief Lawrence Hart, Mennonite (Telford: Cascadia Publishing House, 2007). 14. Deborah Froese, “Power of Forgiveness Transcends Generations,” http://www. mennonitechurch.ca/news/releases/2008/09/Release08.htm 15. David Augsburger, Dissident Discipleship: A Spirituality of Self-surrender, Love of God, and Love of Neighbour (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2006), 73. 16. David Augsburger, Dissident Discipleship, 73. 17. David Augsburger, Dissident Discipleship, 74. 18. David Augsburger, Dissident Discipleship, 75. 19. David Augsburger, Dissident Discipleship, 76.

BIBLIOGRAPHY “Amish Grace.” http://amishgrace.com Augsburger, David. Dissident Discipleship: A Spirituality of Self-surrender, Love of God, and Love of Neighbor. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2006. Bauman, Elizabeth Hershberger. Coals of Fire. Scottdale: Herald Press, 1954. Crable, Ad. “Amish Nickel Mines Community Mourns Death of Trooper Who Was Hero During and After Schoolhouse Shootings.” Lancaster Online. 13 June 2015. http://lancasteronline.com/news/local/amish-nickel-mines-community-mournsdeath-of-trooper-who-was/article_cbd613e0-112b-11e5-8366-5ba6f350e665.html Froese, Deborah. “Power of Forgiveness Transcends Generations.” Mennonite Church Canada. 25 September 2008. http://www.mennonitechurch.ca/news/releases/2008/ 09/Release08.htm Hinz-Penner, Rayline. Searching for Sacred Ground: The Journey of Chief Lawrence Hart, Mennonite. Telford: Cascadia Publishing House, 2007. “Journey Toward Forgiveness.” http://www.journeytowardforgiveness.com/settingout Kraybill, Donald B., and Steven M. Nolt. Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy. San Francisco: Jossey Bass, 2007. McCutcheon, John. “Forgive Us.” This Fire: Politics, Love and Other Small Miracles. NP: Appalsongs, 2007. https://www.allmusic.com/album/this-fire-politics-love-andother-small-miracles-mw0001211085 Ruth, John L. Forgiveness: A Legacy of the West Nickel Mines Amish School. Scottdale: Herald Press, 2007. van Braght, Thieleman J. Martyrs’ Mirror: The Story of Seventeen Centuries of Christian Martyrdom from the Time of Christ to A.D. 1660. Scottdale: Herald Press, 1938. Wesner, Erik. “Healing on Both Sides of the Nickel Mines Tragedy, Four Years On.” Amish America. 2 October 2010. http://amishamerica.com/healing-on-both-sides-ofthe-nickel-mines-tragedy-four-years-on Willems, Dirk. Love Your Enemies Blog. 24 April 2007. https://loveyourenemies. wordpress.com/2007/04/24/dirk-willems

EIGHT The Limitations of Forgiveness David P. Gushee

Forgiveness is a critically important, but oft neglected theme. It is one of those rare, yet profound examples of a biblical concept that also retains currency in everyday life. Like love, and unlike, say, pneumatology, you can actually stop people on the street and ask them what they think forgiveness is and have an intelligent conversation. That’s because most people have some concept of forgiveness and some experience of it (or its lack). This makes it an important term to consider not just for internal Christian conversation, but also for engaging the public square. Of course, forgiveness is much more complicated than we might think. The issue is relatively neglected in contemporary Christian ethics. And among those who address it there is certainly no consensus as to what forgiveness even is, let alone what its limitations might be. Consider the following definitional sketches: Richard Longenecker argues that “Forgiveness is the art of granting a free pardon or giving up a claim of requital for an offense or debt . . . in the act of forgiving, the cost or penalty for a wrong is borne by the forgiver and not by the forgiven.” 1 Paul Lehmann states that “Forgiveness is the setting aside, on God’s initiative, of enmity between God and humanity and the restoration of right relations between them . . . and the ‘sending away’ or ‘pardoning’ or ‘covering’ what has come between persons who as neighbors have become enemies.” 2 David Augsburger reasons that forgiveness “is the mutual recognition that repentance of either or both parties is genuine and that right relationships have been restored or achieved.” 3 S. J. Mikolaski suggests that the “heart of forgiveness is that sin is forgiven as it is borne, hence its costliness.” 4 R. Laird Harris says, “In general ‘to forgive’ involves releasing a person from the consequences of some wrong action 109

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and restoring a breached relationship.” 5 Donald Shriver contends that forgiveness “is an act that joins moral truth, forbearance, empathy, and commitment to repair a fractured human relation.” 6 Miroslav Volf reasons that, “Every act of forgiveness enthrones justice; it draws attention to its violation precisely by offering to forego its claims.” 7 And L. Gregory Jones claims that forgiveness “is an embodied way of life in an everdeepening friendship with the Triune God and with others . . . an expression of a commitment to a way of life, the cruciform life of holiness . . . and a means of seeking reconciliation in the midst of particular sins.” 8 What a staggering diversity! To engage with the critically important topic of forgiveness and its numerous faces I will (1) Explore the basic meanings of the English word “forgiveness”; (2) Explore core biblical terms and teaching on forgiveness; (3) Offer a model of four dimensions of forgiveness; and (4) Reflect on the limits to forgiveness. THE BASIC MEANINGS OF THE ENGLISH WORD “FORGIVENESS” What does that English word “forgiveness” mean? It was originally an Old English term forgiefan. It is traceable to the German vergeben and Dutch vergeven. Its etymology spotlights notions like give, grant, allow, remit, pardon; thus, we arrive at for (completely) plus giefan (give). Later Old English echoes this by explaining that forgiveness means to give up the desire or power to punish. This shows us that the English word “forgive” is in some very core sense about giving, or giving up, something, some kind of desire or power, and to give it up completely. That is an important place to start. Open any standard college dictionary today and the word “forgiveness” is defined as follows: a) stop feeling angry with someone for an offense, flaw, or mistake; b) cancel a debt. 9 Notice that the supposedly primary “feeling angry” dimension is not really a feature of the term’s etymology, but tends to be central to what we think the word means today. (More on that later.) The language of debt cancellation is also telling. Apparently, what the forgiver is giving up, completely, is payment of some kind of debt. Put this together, then, and perhaps we have enough for the gardenvariety English-speaker’s understanding of forgiveness: it is when we give up feeling angry at people because of what they have done to us and we give up any need to make them pay for what they did. But this, of course, is just the beginning of our exploration.

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EXPLORING CORE BIBLICAL TERMS AND TEACHING ON FORGIVENESS Again, we will start with etymology to attend to our next key question, “What is the core biblical teaching on forgiveness?” Hebrew has three primary terms sometimes translated with variations on the English word “forgiveness”: The first is salach (to forgive, pardon). Biblical scholars suggest that when the term is used in the Old Testament it always refers to divine forgiveness of human beings (Exod 34:6–9). The second is nasah (to bear, lift, carry, take, take away); it can include the meaning of forgive or pardon (Mic 7:18–19). Kipper is the third. Its literal meaning is to cover, or be covered, as in “covered over” your sins, which is metaphorical for losing sight of or forgetting. It can also mean “atoned for” (Ps 78:38; 79:9, Jer 18:23 negatively). There are three primary Greek words translated “forgive” in English: charizomai, aphiemi, and apolyo. Charizesthai derives from charis, grace. It means to bestow a favor unconditionally, or to show oneself gracious, kind, benevolent; grant forgiveness, pardon (2 Cor 13:13; Col 2:13). The core meaning of aphesis is to send away or let go. When used of forgiveness, it covers debts, trespasses, blasphemies, and sins. It is the most common Greek term for forgiveness (Matt 6:12, 14–15). Apolyein means to set free, release, pardon, with the latter only being used a few times (Luke 6:37). The various uses of the Hebrew and Greek terms that can be translated “forgive” or with related terms make clear that forgiveness in the biblical narrative has both a vertical and horizontal dimension—namely, God and us, but also us and us. These are not just parallel but deeply intertwined and interlocking dimensions (Matt 6:12, Luke 17:3–4, Eph 4:31–32). The terms taken together speak to various dimensions that must be accounted for in a theory of forgiveness. These include the idea that human behaviors, whether towards God or people or both, can go wrong, and when they do it causes relational damage, creates problems that are metaphorically treated as debts, bondages, or burdens, and require some kind of response either of justice or of love or both. At a point like this it will be helpful to look at some core biblical passages that are related to forgiveness. Consider the following especially important New Testament texts: 1. Matthew 6:12, 14–15 (cf. Mark 11:25–26): This text establishes a striking linkage in Jesus’ teaching between divine-human and human-human forgiveness. Grateful, repentant sinners, forgiven by God, whose character is so gracious to forgive (cf. Exod 34:6–7; Luke 15:11–32), must forgive other repentant sinners to continue to access further gracious divine forgiveness.

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2. Matthew 18:21–35: This parable, in response to Peter’s request for instruction on how often to forgive, teaches that grateful, forgiven sinners should be constantly motivated by divine forgiveness to extend forgiveness to those of who have wronged us. This is the “how much more” of forgiveness in the Christian life—if God has forgiven me so much (known to us precisely to the extent that we are honest and introspective about our own sin) how much more should we forgive others for their lesser sins against us? 10 Luke 7:36–50 is a striking parallel text, though this time it is not a parable but an event in Jesus’ ministry (i.e., the woman anointing Jesus). These two texts evoke a posture of humble gratitude to God for forgiveness that then spills over into how we treat others. 3. Luke 17:3–4: Here, sin in the community is dealt with by a rebuke/ repent/forgive paradigm. No limit is set on the number of times a believer must forgive another, but in each case repentance is required. Forgiveness is not extended apart from repentance. 4. Luke 23:34: And yet in this famous scene at the Cross, Jesus asks God to forgive those crucifying him, even though the crucifiers do not repent; though this is a textual variant, and only in Luke, it certainly has been deeply influential in Christian thought. In fact, it is fair to say that these two texts from Luke both reflect and help create a permanent tension in Christianity related to the issue of a necessary link between repentance and forgiveness. 5. Ephesians 4:32/Colossians 3:13: These texts prescribe forgiveness as an aspect of Christian ethics in community, in both cases finding forgiveness out of God’s forgiveness of us. We might say texts like these teach us a character ethic of forgiving-ness; the character quality in Christian community of a readiness to forgive. Thus, Jones is right in emphasizing that the New Testament teaches a communal ethic of embodying forgiveness as a way of life in obedience to the Triune God. 11 6. 1 John 1:9: The focus here is on our own inner sinfulness, which is forgiven by God as we confess our sins; meanwhile we are cleansed from our sins and restored to right relationship with God (cf. Ps 51). A DEEPER ACCOUNT OF FORGIVENESS In light of all of the foregoing, I want to venture a theory to help us understand the nuances of forgiveness: relationships are disrupted by offenses, or sins, or wrongs. When Person A sins against Person B, it creates four new realities: 1. Harm to the well-being of Person B.

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2. An invisible though palpable and even objective guilt of Person A in relation to Person B for the wrongful act; this is often experienced by the wronged as creating a kind of debt, requiring repayment. We might call it a “ball of bad” needing to have something done with it; in biblical terms, this guilt is also before God and a penalty for sin is required. 3. Harm to the relationship between Person A and Person B; this might be exacerbated by the perfectly natural but destructive reaction of Person B intentionally doing vengeance-harm in retaliation against Person A. 4. Harm to Person A, the wrongdoer, because of the relational impact of their sin, the need to deal with the debt or “ball of bad” they have created, the possibility of vengeance-harm being returned upon them, and perhaps their own loss of inner peace and wellbeing due to all of the above; in biblical terms, the harm to the offender includes entry into wrong standing in relation to God. Forgiveness, then, can be defined in four different ways or as having four different dimensions, each addressing some aspect of the above: Forgiveness 1 Forgiveness here is the intrapersonal act on the part of Person B, the one sinned against, to release resentment, to no longer hold in one’s heart or spirit the offense of Person A. Let’s call this the psychological dimension of forgiveness. It seems primary in our minds in our highly psychologized (or “therapeutic” 12 ) age. For example, one might say, “I couldn’t carry that resentment against him any longer. I had to forgive him.” This kind of forgiveness is widely recognized to be psychologically constructive, in and of itself, to let go of grudges from within the human mind and heart. Forgiveness 2 Forgiveness here is the erasure, release, or pardon of the actual guilt incurred due to the wrong done so that the wrongdoer is no longer in debt to the wronged to pay back or set right that wrong. The “ball of bad” is covered over, or carried away, or sent away, or borne, or some other similar image. Let’s call this the forensic dimension of forgiveness. This is opaque to us in our age. We see it most clearly in the criminal justice system. For instance, we might hear: “You must pay your debt to society for the crime you committed.” Or, “You are pardoned. We are cancelling your debt to society for the crime you committed.” Much of biblical theology has to do with the provisions God makes to deal with our sin problem. God’s justice requires that sin be requited,

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through divine punishment, sacrifices for specific acts, or forms of restitution on our part, to make us right with God (justification). God’s mercy, though, pardons sinful people far beyond what justice might require. At least some versions of classic Christian theology go on to say that at the cross, all human debts to God due to sin are paid by Christ and canceled in relation to us. God’s justice has been satisfied, once and for all, through the atonement. (But now, of course, many theologians question this penal substitutionary understanding of the atonement or of the Christian message more broadly.) The most complex issue in relation to forgiveness lies right here, at the nexus of punishment/justice for sin and mercy/forgiveness of sin, and this issue is both theological and ethical. Forgiveness 3 Forgiveness here is restoration of relationship between two persons where wrong has occurred, normally through a process of repentance, confession, forgiveness, and at least the beginnings of reconciliation. Let’s call this the interpersonal dimension of forgiveness. Example: “I accept your apology. I forgive you. Let’s move forward together in peace.” Forgiveness 4 Forgiveness here is the repair and restoration of the offender, in terms of correction, conviction, confession, and catharsis—that is, the total impact on the wrongdoer of having done wrong, seen it as wrong, acted to restore relationship, and been forgiven. Example: “I realized I did a terrible wrong, and it hurt my spirit. But I acknowledged I did wrong, I apologized, I vowed never to do it again, and s/he forgave me. And I feel so much better.” Four Key Insights I want to suggest that this account of four kinds or dimensions of forgiveness reveals a few key insights about how moral reality works. Let’s call this the structural presuppositions of the idea and practice of forgiveness. 1. Human beings are relational and interdependent to such an extent that wrong acts are experienced as angering, offending, harming, and threatening both relationships and inner peace on the part of both the wronged and the wrongdoer. 2. Human beings have a strongly wired-in sense of justice (even though damaged and distorted by sin). There is an objective justice structure to our thinking so powerful that people will act on the basis of attempting to redress violations of justice and will hold even the most intimate relationships hostage to that redress. This

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undergirds the forensic level of forgiveness and why it is needed but introduces extraordinary complexities. 3. There is an odd kind of economic structure to human relations in the sense that wrongdoing is perceived as creating a debt requiring repayment. We keep track of all such debts quite carefully when they are owed to us. The interchangeability of the words “trespass” and “debt” is instructive here. 4. Note the paradox that forgiveness is indispensable to human relations among flawed people, but that we tend to be equally troubled by indiscriminate forgiveness and by its total lack. The total lack of forgiveness dooms human relations through its rigidity; indiscriminate forgiveness may also doom human relations through its enabling and re-enabling of wrong behavior. Forgiveness gets implicated in the perennial human struggle to balance justice and mercy, made all the more complex by the Christ-event, so debate over these issues involves both the vertical and the horizontal dimension. LIMITS TO FORGIVENESS? The biblical teachings on forgiveness are rigorous. Our goal should be to obey them, not evade them. They flow from a central dimension of the biblical narrative and are a central aspect of discipleship. However, life and in some cases the texts themselves leave room for questions. I want to ask about several possible exceptions or limits to the general Christian mandate to forgive. First, do we have to forgive someone who has wronged us and has not repented, or cannot repent, because they are dead, unreachable, etc.? If we take Luke 17:3–4 as especially informative here, we learn that when we have been wronged or sinned against, we are to communicate some form of rebuke. This is supposed to lead to repentance, which is supposed to be followed by forgiveness on our part and the beginnings of reconciliation. Of course, this should be read against the overall background of the “forgive as you have been forgiven” narrative of the New Testament. Who of us verbally repents all of our wrongs against God? How would we feel if we had our sins held against us in those cases where we do not repent explicitly? And, it is indeed true that we get a number of “simply forgive as you have been forgiven” teachings, and “forgive if you want to be forgiven” teachings, rather than “forgive if your brother repents” teachings. Still, we know that forgiveness is far more difficult when the sister or brother does not repent, apologize, or confess. My conclusion is that in such cases the psychological dimension of forgiveness is still possible, the forensic dimension is very difficult, and

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the interpersonal dimension is difficult if not impossible. A relationship can continue but it will be damaged. And the wrongdoer does not experience restoration and repair. Second, am I to forgive someone who wrongs someone else? Given the general posture of forgiven forgivers, the default setting will be to forgive. But this question reminds us that an offense can be done by a person to another person and I can be witness to that harm rather than its direct recipient. It seems to me that if the rebuke-repent-forgive cycle happens successfully with those directly involved, I certainly should join in forgiveness to the extent I can and to the extent this is relevant to me. But I don’t think it is Person C’s role to jump in and forgive Person B for what they did to Person A. Third, are there wrongs too big to be forgiven? Imagine a murderer kills your child. Eventually they come to full and complete repentance. They might even directly ask your forgiveness. What are your obligations? The default “forgiven forgivers” posture remains the same. However, the difficulty level is much increased. Still, there is no biblical reason to think we are somehow exempted from Forgiveness 1, psychological forgiveness. Forgiveness 2 here probably does not mean that you would be interested in the murderer simply being pardoned so that they do not have to pay their debt, or bear the costs, or at least be kept from doing further harm to someone else. So, forgiveness here does not mean debtcancelation. Forgiveness 3, establishing a relationship with your own child’s murderer, strikes me more as supererogatory than obligatory. But it is a place that can be reached, for some, through the amazing power of divine forgiving grace as practiced in the life of the Christian community. And only if it is reached is Forgiveness 4, repair and restoration of the offender, even remotely possible. This question also reminds us that forgiveness is not just a transaction but a process. It is easy to miss this if we only focus at the forensic level. It is much clearer if we think about the other three levels. Healing damaged inner selves and relationships takes time. Fourth, do I have to forgive someone who keeps doing harm? Because psychological forgiveness is in our best interest, it is always good to try. Unrepentant, persistent offenders are not likely to even give you space or opportunity to do forensic forgiveness. And the restoration of relationship is both unwise and inappropriate in many cases. This issue is especially important to remember when harm is being done to others, as in, for example, domestic violence. Fifth, can collective groups forgive? Can Iran forgive the U.S. for what the U.S. did in 1954? Can the U.S. forgive Iran for what Iran did in 1979? Can Israelis forgive Palestinians? Can Palestinians forgive Israelis? These are appropriate and indeed fascinating questions. The best book on this very issue is by Donald Shriver—Ethic for Enemies. I highly commend it. Their answer hinges on what we make of the moral reality of collectiv-

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ities—peoples, organizations, nations, races, and tribes. I think Reinhold Niebuhr had it right all those years ago when he wrote Moral Man and Immoral Society. The title barely communicated the complexity of the thesis, which was that everyone is both sinful and has moral potential, but collectives are morally infantile relative to individuals. This is so for many reasons, including the elusive nature of corporate personality, the passage of time that transcends the lifetime of any individuals, and the diffusion of responsibility in a collectivity. It is certainly true that groups can experience being wronged (genocide, war, discrimination) and do experience the full range of reactions: collective psychological harm, the creation of a guilt/wrong, “ball of bad” needing to be addressed, and relational damage, with the potential of escalating cyclical vengeance-harm. Those best positioned to begin the forgiveness cycle are likely to be political or civil society leaders from the offending side offering clear statements of repentance, restitution for wrongs done, and requests for restoration of relations. But nations/collectives are even more stubborn and prideful than individuals, so that is no mean feat. I do not know if it is even possible for wounded collectives, like nations, to do any of the four types of forgiveness without significant repenting from some legitimated offender. And if there is mutual offense and mutual repentance needed then there is the issue of timing and staging. In my experience, African Americans in the U.S. have done better than any other collectivity in all four aspects of forgiveness. But that, I think, is deeply related to their immersion in the Christian narrative and the Jesus story in particular. It is beautiful when you see it. But, of course, it is not to be presumed upon by anyone else. Sixth, do I always have to forgive myself? This question speaks especially to Forgiveness 4. Sometimes a wrong that we do so offends our own conscience, or does such profound relational damage, that we find it difficult either to receive forgiveness from the one we wronged or to forgive ourselves. The complexity here is so interesting: there is only one David Gushee or Phil Halstead visible on a given day but there can be several competing selves within a single person without being schizophrenic—as Paul powerfully illustrated with his “who am I and who will rescue me” chapter in Romans (ch. 7). I think that those of us who have spiraled downward into self-loathing and self-unforgiveness due to wrongs we have done may need to work through the four dimensions of forgiveness with ourselves. And certainly, that is made much easier when a clean forgiveness and reconciliation process has happened with the one/s we harmed. In the end, the towering witness of the New Testament drives us onward towards forgiveness, even when it is difficult—including within our own souls. And we certainly need a faith community in which to learn how to do this.

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CONCLUSION Clinical analysis doesn’t quite cover what a profoundly spiritual, moral, difficult, beautiful reality we are talking about here. Many of us have had supernatural experiences of forgiveness. Surely all of us have experienced the ache of unforgiveness either by us or of us. We are broken and our relationships often end up partly or fully broken as well. The New Testament offers such a profound witness on so many dimensions of this issue. And we can only touch the hem of that garment. Ultimately, the main question is certainly not the limitations of forgiveness—but our stubborn hearts, so often so unforgiving. There are some limits, on the frontiers of relationships, mainly where continued real harm is being done to others or to us. But 99.9% of our forgiveness issues are much simpler than that. It’s just us, not wanting to forgive. “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32). It is indeed a way of life, under Christ and in Christ, that must be learned and relearned. NOTES 1. Richard Longenecker, “Forgiveness,” in Dictionary of Scripture and Ethics, eds. Joel B. Green et al. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011), 309. 2. Paul Lehmann, “Forgiveness,” in The Westminster Dictionary of Christian Ethics, eds. John Macquarrie and James F. Childress (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1986), 233–34. 3. David Augsburger, “Forgiveness,” in New Dictionary of Christian Ethics and Pastoral Theology, eds. David J. Atkinson et al. (Downers Grove: Intervarsity Press, 1995), 389. 4. S. J. Mikolaski, “Forgiveness,” in Encyclopedia of Biblical and Christian Ethics, ed. Roland K. Harrison (Nashville: Nelson, 1992), 156. 5. R. Laird Harris, “Forgiveness,” in Baker’s Dictionary of Christian Ethics, ed. Carl F. H. Henry (Moscow: Canon Press, 1973), 250. 6. Donald W. Shriver. An Ethic for Enemies: Forgiveness in Politics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 9. 7. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2008), 123. 8. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), xiii. 9. See, for example, New Oxford American Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 10. For a good discussion on this see Richard B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation (London: T & T Clark, 2003), 101–4. 11. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 101–4. 12. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 35–70.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Augsburger, David. “Forgiveness.” Pages 389–90 in New Dictionary of Christian Ethics and Pastoral Theology. Edited by David J. Atkinson, David F. Field, Arthur F. Holmes, and Oliver O'Donovan. Downers Grove: Intervarsity Press, 1995. Harris, R. Laird. “Forgiveness.” Page 250 in Baker’s Dictionary of Christian Ethics. Edited by Carl F. H. Henry. Moscow: Canon Press, 1973. Hays, Richard B. The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation . London: T & T Clark, 2003. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006. Lehmann, Paul. “Forgiveness.” Pages 233–34 in The Westminster Dictionary of Christian Ethics. Edited by John Macquarrie and James F. Childress. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1986. Longenecker, Richard. “Forgiveness.” Page 309 in Dictionary of Scripture and Ethics. Edited by Joel B. Green, Jacqueline Lapsley, Rebekah Miles, and Allen Verhey. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011. Mikolaski, S. J. “Forgiveness.” Page 156 in Encyclopedia of Biblical and Christian Ethics. Edited by Roland K. Harrison. Nashville: Nelson, 1992. New Oxford American Dictionary. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Shriver, Donald W. An Ethic for Enemies: Forgiveness in Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2008.

Part II

Practical and Applied Perspectives

NINE “Making All Things New” Why Innovation Matters for Forgiveness L. Gregory Jones

Leaning into an innovative future is crucial for the possibility of discovering forgiveness in the past. Indeed, it is often only by leaning into innovation that we will be able to discover the fullness of forgiveness. My purpose in this chapter is to show how and why a focus on innovation is indispensable to the discovery, and thus the practice, of forgiveness. We do not typically think of the relationships between innovation and forgiveness, future and past, in this way. Indeed, we often do not think of innovation as being particularly connected to forgiveness. Insofar as we do, it is in a conventional past-to-future orientation. We learn to practice forgiveness in order to heal the brokenness of the past so that we can then live into a new and renewed future. Theologically, it is as we accept the forgiveness of Good Friday that we are then prepared for new life at Easter. This logic shapes my account in Embodying Forgiveness, in which I argue that forgiveness is the means by which God’s love moves us towards reconciliation and new life in the wake of sin and evil. 1 We learn to embody our forgiven-ness for the past, and thus offer it to others, which enables us to discover the power of new life in the future. Desmond Tutu provocatively argues that there is “no future without forgiveness.” 2 His claim testifies to the life-giving power of forgiveness, and calls us to a new way of living with each other and with the past. The destructive aftermath of a devastating event, or destructive patterns endured across time, create powerful forces that often suck people into the 123

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vortex of the past. We need a powerful account of forgiveness to challenge such a vortex. In Embodying Forgiveness, as well as in Célestin Musekura’s and my book Forgiving as We’ve Been Forgiven, it seemed particularly important to challenge the presumption that forgiveness is a way of “magically” making things right so that we do not really need to worry about the past. 3 We need to be sure not to trivialize forgiveness by making the world seem lighter than it actually is, even as we invite people to see the lifegiving future that forgiveness makes possible. Such magical accounts also fail to account adequately for the need for repentance and accountability, a central theme in my work as well. In this sense, if the Christian faith is to offer genuine hope to the world, and a powerful witness to younger generations, it is dependent on our account of forgiveness taking seriously the horrifying sin and evil that we do to one another personally, as well as the broader realities of genocides, slavery, apartheid, and other systemic evils. A central focus of my work on forgiveness over the past twenty-five years has been to emphasize the importance of practicing forgiveness as a way of life (and the accompanying importance of “repentance as a way of life”). This has required developing an account of forgiveness that takes seriously the “haunting” character of our memories of sin and evil, including what we have done as well as what was done to us, what we failed to do as well as what others have failed to do for us. This stress on the importance of engaging, and healing, the wounds of the past—and especially of our memories—suggested the importance of Holy Saturday, and the Easter Vigil, as a central image for Christian life. The Easter Vigil, I suggested in the concluding chapter of Embodying Forgiveness, keeps us mindful of the realities of sin and evil on the one hand and the promise of new life made possible by Christ on the other. I still believe all of this is important and theologically appropriate. At the same time, though, I have discovered in my engagements with several different communities dealing with horrific pain, that there is often a powerful psycho-social dimension that should lead us to an inverted orientation in our engagement with issues of forgiveness and innovation, the past and the future: a focus on an innovative future is crucial to begin to heal the wounds of the past, and thus to discover forgiveness. Innovation and forgiveness are inextricably interrelated. The psycho-social dimension acknowledges that shame and guilt cause us to shrink from others and hide even from our best selves. We become preoccupied with the past, either by continually immersing ourselves in it or by numbing ourselves so as to cope with it. On one level, we can recognize this psycho-social dimension in biblical stories and in our own lives, and the need for an inverted orientation that focuses on new life (and an innovative approach to the future). Our normal understanding suggests that we need to proclaim and live into

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forgiveness in order to discover new life in the future. Yet when we shrink from relationships into a self-absorbed and often self-destructive perspective, it becomes exceedingly difficult to even “hear,” much less, live into, a hopeful future rooted in forgiveness. We observe this powerfully in the story of Jonah, who after God forgives the Ninevites pitches a classic two-year-old fit out on the trash heap. Three different times Jonah says he is angry enough “to die.” It is unclear what might be said or done to help Jonah embody forgiveness going forward. We get caught in psycho-social spirals going downward as we seek to cope with the haunting character of the past. So also with us. In our own lives, through some toxic mixture of what we have done and what has been done to us, what we have failed to do and what others have failed to do for us, we find ourselves trapped in destructive spirals downward. And those spirals tend not only to undermine our own capabilities, they diminish those close to us as well. As a result, we may “hear” the proclamation of forgiveness, and even “believe” it to be true in general, but we find it very difficult to internalize or accept in a way that would re-orient our life. In the midst of such brokenness, it is often by living into an innovative future that we become increasingly capable of hearing afresh the proclamation of forgiveness, and thereby learning to discover its fullness and to embark on life-giving repentance. Three examples in recent years, which I describe briefly below, have helped me to see more clearly why an inverted orientation is crucial: innovation and forgiveness create mutually reinforcing virtuous spirals, and innovation often is the leading partner. Theologically, it is as we trust that the Holy Spirit genuinely is “making all things new,” that we learn to believe most fully that Christ’s redemptive work can even make me, and us, new in particular. The first example shows how a community deeply shaped by forgiveness nonetheless discovered the importance of innovation. The second shows how social innovation created conditions that enabled people to discover a sense of blessing and forgiveness. And the third shows how innovation and forgiveness, embodied together, can transform a community and a broader social ecosystem. INNOVATION AMONG THE AMISH? Who would have thought that my conceptual breakthrough about the centrality of innovation would come from a visit with an Amish community? Forgiveness, sure . . . but innovation? And innovation as a key to forgiveness? More than a decade ago, on 2 October 2006, the world watched with amazement as the Nickel Mines Amish community in the eastern part of the United States offered words and gestures of forgiveness in the wake

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of the horrifying massacre of five young girls in their schoolhouse. That day, five other girls were wounded but survived; one has permanent disabilities from brain trauma. The Amish’s commitment to forgiveness offered a powerful witness to the watching world. Five years later, my wife Susan and I were invited to a dinner with the families of the girls who had died or were wounded in the massacre. I was scheduled to give the keynote address the next day at an event commemorating the shooting, and the Amish community’s response. My address focused on healing the wounds of memory, and the power of a community’s practices of forgiveness to heal those wounds. But it was at dinner the night before that my imagination was stirred to think more about the importance of innovation and new life in making the discovery of forgiveness really possible. Susan and I learned over dinner that evening that the days, weeks, and months that followed found the Amish community on a “roller coaster ride,” as one father described it—an unpredictable journey of trying to make sense of the shooting. He noted that it was really only as they did things they did not want to do as Amish—especially reach out in new ways to the world—that they really began to discover healing and hope for the future. Their “repentance” took the form of trusting that the Holy Spirit was leading them into something new. I discovered that night that their journey has been marked by “traditioned innovation”—a deep tradition of forgiveness, following Jesus’ injunction to the practice, expressed in new ways to account for an unprecedented, public circumstance. Their innovative practice has, in turn, led them to deeper understandings of their tradition and to the discovery of new life in the Spirit. One father commented that it was only by leaning into these innovative practices that he and other parents had been able to discover the fullness of forgiveness. To be sure, their commitment to forgiveness was clear, woven so deeply into the fabric of their way of life that any other response would have been unthinkable. Thus, while parents were frantically searching for their children and securing emergency medical care, other members of the community began offering words and gestures of forgiveness to the shooter’s family and to the watching world. Their responses of forgiveness came “naturally,” as a result of their deeply formed habits, yet they also quickly realized they were going to confront challenges they never could have anticipated. The events of the day were terrible enough, but the community also had to respond to intense media scrutiny and a world transfixed by the unfolding drama. And they did not really feel like forgiveness was going to lead them to much hope or healing. The leaders of the Amish community knew there were dangers to avoid in how they responded to the tragedy and engaged the wider

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world. They also recognized a “new calling” for the whole community to undertake as a form of witness, to bear witness to the Holy Spirit. They expressed significant appreciation to the police (especially the state police commissioner), the emergency medical personnel, the local community, and even the media for many acts of kindness. Their initial declarations of forgiveness became manifested in greater appreciation for the goodness of “worldly” people. Indeed, relationships developed over time between the shooter’s mother and the victims’ families, embodied in visits, caregiving, and shared hospitality. The Amish community’s leadership during those first weeks was inspiring and natural, emerging out of the daily habits and practices of their community. They did not intend to draw attention to themselves or to their community. Their leadership was a form of witness to God, manifested in profound humility. At the same time, though, new questions emerged. The community received $4 million in donations from around the world. How should that money be used? The Amish set up an “accountability committee” to disburse the money, drawing on their deep habits of both communal generosity and awareness of the potential for sinful greed. One of the committee’s first decisions was to set aside a significant portion of the money for the shooter’s family, with special concern expressed for the shooter’s children. The Nickel Mines community also began getting requests to receive delegations from around the world that were struggling to come to terms with their own distinctive tragedies. What would they say to visiting delegations? How would they describe their convictions, practices, and responses to outsiders? The community discovered a calling to welcome such delegations, to show hospitality, and to share their experiences and perspectives together. They appointed spokespeople for the community, typically parents of the victims, to meet and reflect together on the significance of forgiveness in relation to both the past and the future. The community exhibited leadership in an even more innovative way: it sent delegations to visit other communities coping with a similarly devastating event. Several of the parents traveled to Virginia Tech in 2007 to be with families affected by the shooting that killed 32 students and faculty there. And, in an even more remarkable witness, several Amish couples traveled with Terri Roberts, the shooter’s mother, to New Hampshire to help a community divided over a murder to see that reconciliation is possible. One of the Amish fathers who went on these journeys acknowledged to me that he did not really want to go. And yet, he noted, he understood that it was important for them to do so as a witness to what God, by the power of the Holy Spirit, was doing in and through them.

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They did not think they had really done anything themselves in New Hampshire; they credited God. Yet they were crucial vessels. Imagine what the people there experienced in the reconciling leadership of Amish parents and the shooter’s mother traveling and eating together and expressing bonds of friendship. One of the Amish ministers in the Nickel Mines community, a man who also is a grandfather of one of the murdered girls, recently said that many of the letters they received cited Romans 8:28: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (NRSV). The Amish community has discovered “goodness” in new relationships and reaffirmed perspectives of the goodness that exists in the wider world. They named the new Nickel Mines school “New Hope,” as a sign of God’s goodness. Their commitment to forgiveness has helped them glimpse a future. By leaning into that future through traditioned innovation, the Amish are also discovering deeper understandings of forgiveness and unanticipated possibilities for new life. I asked one of the Amish fathers who traveled to Virginia Tech and to New Hampshire what he had learned from those visits. He said, “I learned that forgiveness is a journey. I have learned that healing is possible. And, I have learned that it is not yet finished.” Some of the most extraordinary and exemplary leadership that has emerged in our world over the last decade has come from people with no formal titles, a wariness of change, and an aversion to publicity. It has come from people with a profound humility that points clearly and authentically to God, who are willing to confront challenges and engage opportunities even in the wake of a horrifying event. As I began to reflect on what I had learned from the Amish, I discovered a remarkably similar pattern of innovation and forgiveness in a place that seemed worlds apart from Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania and the Amish: south-central Los Angeles and a Roman Catholic priest, a Jesuit, named Father Greg Boyle, serving and working among poor Hispanic and Latino/a urban folks. It seems counter-intuitive, if not absurd, to think that these different “worlds” might share some key discoveries and insights into the relationships between innovation and forgiveness. FATHER G AND THE HOMEBOYS Neither innovation nor forgiveness were centrally on Father Greg Boyle’s heart and mind when he began serving a parish in south-central Los Angeles in 1986, at least in the ways for which he has now become wellknown. When he arrived, “Father G” was focused on faithful service in his church, and surviving the warring gangs in the neighborhood.

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He stumbled into becoming a social innovator because of his desire to help the kids in the gangs, many of whom were children of his parishioners. He heard the mothers praying for their children during Mass, and Father G wanted to do something to help them stay out of trouble. He realized that they needed something better to do than hang out on the streets. He began to work to help find them jobs, calling his efforts “Jobs for a Future.” Father G raised money to help defray the costs of a business hiring one of his homeboys. He began to see some success, but the transaction costs were high. Father G eventually realized that actually starting a business himself might employ more of the gang members and give them an investment in the success of an organization. In 1992, their first business, “Homeboy Bakery,” began. Eventually, they added another venture, “Homeboy Silkscreen and Embroidery,” and others have been added since (notably, one led by young women, “Homegirl Café”). Eventually, “Jobs for a Future” became the social enterprise known as Homeboy Industries, which embraces the diverse businesses that help to get kids out of gangs and into gainful employment. The motto of Homeboy Industries (HI) is “the best way to stop a bullet is with a job.” And the jobs program has worked remarkably effectively. Like any typical social enterprise, not everything HI has developed has been equally successful. For example, HI developed a venture, “Homeboy Plumbing,” that did not work. People were not too favorable about gang kids coming into their houses to work on copper pipes. Even so, the overall work of HI has flourished. Over the past two and a half decades, Father G and HI have helped thousands of kids get out of gangs and discover skills and jobs to become productive members of society. Father G’s work as a social innovator/entrepreneur has become well-known across the United States and around the world. He has been featured on television programs such as 60 Minutes, invited to the White House in George W. Bush’s administration, and invited to speak at a TEDx conference. Any innovative social enterprise faces issues of sustainability. HI faced the challenges of being a typical non-profit, supported significantly by philanthropic support alongside the revenues it generated. But two decades in, HI was financially strapped. And then an area businessman helped HI develop a more sustainable business model. HI created a “Homeboy” brand of tortilla chips and salsa that are sold in Los Angelesarea grocery stores, offering a broader source of ongoing revenue for HI. In addition, HI has opened sites for their café at City Hall and at the Los Angeles airport. HI is recognized as a model social enterprise that helps get kids out of gangs and into jobs. Much of the attention is focused on its impact as a social enterprise. People recognize that Father G is a Jesuit priest, and they believe that Christian motivation underlies this remarkable effort.

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Yet there is something deeper shaping HI, that also points to how innovation matters for forgiveness. Father G began HI primarily as a “jobs program.” And it has been remarkably successful. Yet in 2016, when I interviewed Father G for an event at Duke University, he said that he thought their motto, “the best way to stop a bullet is with a job,” was a mistake. I was surprised, because I love the motto and have quoted it often. He then noted, though, that he has realized across time that HI is more about healing and hope, about community development and personal transformation. Jobs are simply one part of what helps that healing and hope, that development and transformation, to occur. Father G was pointing to the fact that his identity as a priest is not just a source of motivation, it is integral to the vision of what HI is and does. Indeed, HI points to the powerful links between innovation and forgiveness, with a stress on the innovation. Father G does not begin by counseling the kids to accept God’s forgiveness, repent of their sin, and turn their life around. Rather, he begins by engaging them in new practices for the future, and in so doing also helps them discover their need for—and the possibilities of—forgiveness, repentance, and new patterns of life. The development of HI gave Father G something to invite the kids into when he was engaging them and helping them see possibilities for their life. Too many of those kids have been beaten down and discouraged by the circumstances of their lives. Despair is easier to discover than hope, and many of them do not think their own lives matter much, nor those of others. Father G’s challenge is to help them discover their dignity as beloved children of God. He does so through celebrations of Mass, in jails and prisons as well as in the neighborhood of south-central Los Angeles. He does so by offering them a “blessing” wherever and whenever he sees them. When he goes to the jails and prisons to say Mass, he talks with the prisoners about their lives and offers them forgiveness, blessing, and hope for the future. He gives them his business card, and invites them to be in touch with him when they are released. It is an open invitation they can accept at any point in the future. Across time, Father G has discovered that the forgiveness that he announces and offers in the Mass is also closely linked to the innovative work of HI. Surprisingly, it is the innovative hope for the future that provides the central context for the young men and women to discover the fullness of forgiveness. It is as the kids become part of the HI community that they lean into new possibilities and hope for the future. In the process, they also discover deeper ways in which the world, and their own lives are broken and in need of forgiveness and healing. HI now provides a variety of services—

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including laser removal of tattoos, alcohol and drug rehabilitation, and counseling—to support the young men and women in their attempts to turn their lives around and live into the blessings and new life that God intends for them. The HI community does not just lean into the future and then accept forgiveness. They also undertake repentance. Too often, rhetoric about “second chances” in the future fails to account for the centrality of accountability and repentance. Father G will not allow people to remain in the community if they are unrepentant; the door remains open to them, but they need to show an ongoing commitment to a new way of life. The key that Father G has discovered is that the best way to encourage forgiveness and repentance as a way of life is to help them discover the possibilities of new life through their involvement in an innovative social enterprise. Leaning into an innovative future is important for discovering forgiveness from God and repentance as a life-giving practice. As Father G notes, it is also important in fostering reconciliation among members of rival gangs. This is a lesson Father G learned the hard way. He tried for several years to do mediation among the gangs. He was trusted by multiple factions, and so he thought he could make progress. But the truces never lasted, and his efforts as a mediator were largely unsuccessful. Once HI was up and running, though, he discovered that former rivals often developed new relationships while working “shoulder to shoulder” with each other. Father G laughs as he describes even taking former rivals on trips with him, knowing that the trips will start amidst great discomfort until they realize they are on a shared journey rooted in their common work with HI. In such circumstances and relationships, reconciliation is discovered less in a mediating session focused on forgiveness and understanding, and more in the joint work of an innovative social enterprise. Father G’s vision and work is transformational, and helps us discover the power of forgiveness precisely through social innovation. It also keeps the relationships real, and helps to acknowledge the ongoing challenges and hard work of living into new relationships. Father G likes to tell the story of one of his homeboys, a young adult named Luis whom Father G describes as “whiny and exasperating.” One day, Luis asked Father G for a blessing. Father G explained how he responded: “I said, ‘You know, Luis, I’m proud to know you, and my life is richer because you came into it, and when you were born, the world became a better place, and I’m proud to call you my son. Even though’—and I do not know why I decided to add this part—‘at times, you can really be a huge pain in the ass.’” In response, Luis looked up at him and said, “The feeling’s mutual.” The grittiness of Father G’s life as a priest and social innovator seems far removed from the simple life of the Amish in Nickel Mines. And yet

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the all-too-human complexities of violence, sin, forgiveness, and new life mark us wherever we are and whatever we do. My journey of learning about the centrality of innovation for forgiveness took me to another context that, at first blush, seems as utterly different from both Nickel Mines and south-central Los Angeles as they are from each other: rural Burundi in central Africa and the remarkable vision of Maggy Barankitse and Maison Shalom. I narrate her journey in greater detail because it reveals the virtuous spirals that occur when we see innovation and forgiveness in close interrelation, each enabling the other to be discovered and lived more fully and creatively. From Maggy we can see, even in the wake of horrific violence and destructiveness, the ways in which God’s forgiving love embodied in saintly people like Maggy and the possibilities of innovation are inextricably interrelated. 4 MAGGY’S LOVE AND THE TRANSFORMING POWER OF INNOVATION Maggy Barankitse was working as the secretary to the Roman Catholic Bishop in her area of rural Burundi, Ruyigi, in the early 1990s when a civil war broke out in her country. In 1993, the militia came to her community and committed a massacre. Maggy was tied to a chair and forced to watch while the militia killed seventy-two people in her community— including priests and nuns and Maggy’s best friend, Juliette. Miraculously, Maggy was allowed to live. After they left, she found seven children hiding in the sacristy, children her mother had adopted. She was able to save 25 other children as well, including Juliette’s children whom Maggy had promised to care for. The larger landscape of the killing field remained, with haunting memories for Maggy of death and destruction. After enduring such atrocities, we might expect an instinct of mere survival, of self-preservation, or even revenge to take over. Maggy, after all, was a woman of some means and connection. Since she had lived and studied abroad, it seems perfectly legitimate to expect that she would find a suitable place for the children, then escape the country as a refugee. Survival, under the circumstances dominating Burundi, seems the most sensible recourse. Who would expect anything different? But Maggy did the opposite. She remained in Burundi, with her mother’s adopted children and the 25 orphans. In the weeks that followed, she welcomed more and more orphaned and abandoned children into her care. It is said that Maggy never turned a child away. Why would she stay? What rooted her there? Why keep accepting more and more children to care for, when the burdens of doing so would begin to feel overwhelming?

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Some years after the October 1993 massacre a French journalist asked Maggy a similar question, wanting to know what she was thinking in the days following the brutal killings in Ruyigi. Maggy told him: “As soon as I knew that my children had been saved, I felt a strong will to live! I could think of one thing only: taking care of them. Raising them beyond this hatred . . . I was there to accompany the young ones and help them find, in themselves, the joy of life, despite the terror of what they’d seen.” She did not want her own adopted children, or the others in her care, merely to survive the war or escape it as if it never happened. Rather than fleeing the storms of violence and destruction, she walked towards the storm with her children. She believed that the hope of new life is found through pain and suffering, not by fleeing it. She recognized that Christ’s resurrection transfigured his wounds; it did not erase them. Maggy wanted something more, something that neither forgot the past, nor dwelled in it. She wanted to break the “collective amnesia” that continually caused her country to erupt in violence; she also wanted to overcome the bleak hopelessness that can be found if one cannot escape the hauntings of the past. Maggy wanted to bear witness to the Easter that is found on the far side of Good Friday. She wanted to bear witness to God’s love, to embody the hope that points towards the fullness of God’s Reign. She wanted to live in the power of the Holy Spirit who is making all things new. So she built a swimming pool that sits on the site of the massacre. She wanted the children to swim and have their vision cleansed, she said, as with the waters of baptism. Then she built a movie theater. She wanted the children to laugh and enjoy life. As you look around Ruyigi, it is not just a swimming pool and movie theater that draw your attention; you see a hospital, a beauty shop, a mechanic shop, Catholic and Protestant churches, an international school, a library, a tailor; the sustainable farm that produces crops, makes cheese, and has a granary; the morgue; the many houses that have sheltered thousands of orphans and families broken by war. None of it should be there. What she envisioned, and her community has built, is called Maison Shalom, “the House of Peace.” It is a whole new world for Ruyigi, a new beginning shaped by a vision of the End (the fulfilment) of God’s Reign and by traditions of Christian wisdom. It is a place where for more than two decades thousands of children have been educated, healed, and nurtured; they have learned marketable skills; and they have learned the habits of a faith-filled way of life. If you ask Maggy how she came to cast this vision for Maison Shalom, a place where orphans of Burundi can be raised beyond the ethnic hatred and cycles of vengeance that plagued the country, she will tell you this: “love made me an inventor.” “Love” signifies for Maggy the whole story of the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, of God’s creative and redemptive love that will emerge triumphant in the fullness of the Kingdom.

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“Invent” signifies for Maggy the Christian imagination that has led her to cultivate a whole ecosystem of institutions that have changed the equilibrium for children in Burundi, and now in Rwanda and eastern Congo as well. Maggy’s vision for Maison Shalom began to form in the wake of the massacre. She wanted to invent, as she puts it, “a way of living without hate.” She longed for her children, and all children, to be able to flourish in a life rooted in blessing and hope. Maggy’s vision was rooted in a Christian imagination formed through her lifelong habits and convictions, an imagination that could see together the importance of practices like forgiveness and friendship and repentance on the one hand, and the significance of institutions that give shape and form to a way of life on the other. She saw that in leaning into innovation, it would also be possible to discover forgiveness more fully. The practice of forgiveness has been at the heart of Maggy’s life and vision; it is also a stony road to tread. It is a mistake to paint too rosy a picture here, to suggest that Maggy moved from the horrors of October 1993 straight to a vision centered in forgiveness, like some clichéd Hollywood plot that jumps from unavoidable conflict to perfect resolution. Forgiveness did not come easily for Maggy herself; it was, and still is, a journey. For some time, she would not attend church because she could not bear to participate in communion with those who had murdered her friends. She cultivated friendships with old allies and new acquaintances, even as she also prayed for and nurtured her own practice of forgiveness and encouraged practices of forgiveness. She started by nurturing relationships between the children of victims and assailants. Justine, an orphan under Maggy’s care, had to walk for three years past the house of the people who killed her parents. They never said a word to each other, but Justine attended school with their children. Slowly, over the course of years, the children became friends, a slight crack where forgiveness might find its way into their lives. When it was time to rebuild Justine’s home, Maggy convinced those responsible for its destruction to help rebuild it. The man who killed Justine’s parents came as well. Seven years after the killing, he finally asked for forgiveness; yes, in actual words, and also through the rebuilding of the home. Forgiveness took the physical form of a man drawing water into a bucket to make bricks to build the home he once destroyed. For Maggy, building homes was a way to both embody forgiveness and to rebuild a community ravaged by war. She found a way to innovate on her faith’s tradition of forgiveness, while discovering that through forgiveness she could rebuild Ruyigi and help restore the lives of its people. Maggy took a fundamental Christian practice and improvised on it. Forgiveness became something not only spoken; it was also built out of clay and water, wood and brick.

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One day, as Maggy was lamenting the ongoing polarization and violence that emerges out of the collective amnesia of the country and the “blame games” that result, she noted: “We need to get away from blame and begin to build – trust, roads, love, forgiveness.” 5 For Maggy, trust, love, and forgiveness belong in the same sentence as roads. Maggy makes connections. Her synthetic imagination, her ability to see how life flourishes when people are brought together, when words like trust and love and forgiveness are connected to roads and homes and jobs and institutions and leadership—that is where we discover the power of innovation for new life. Maggy was shifting people’s mindsets from fear to hope, from a world marked by fragmentation to one that builds bridges—literally and figuratively. For Maggy, the overarching story of God’s love is never an abstraction; it is a shaping story that is profoundly real and that takes on flesh in the work of Maison Shalom. Why else would Maggy have had the audacity to build a movie theater in the middle of a war? It is not because she thought the children needed distraction from their circumstances. When the children watch a film, they enter another’s story and dream along with them. They see and imagine a different kind of life—a life beyond war, death, poverty, and AIDS. They dream dreams beyond hatred and revenge. Even the soldiers wanted to dream dreams beyond war. At times the militia, who still had camps down the road, asked to watch movies. Maggy welcomed them, but insisted they put down their guns before entering the theater. A sign outside the theater, resembling an AK-47 marked over by a circle and red slash, stands guard while the lambs and lions of Burundi sit together in the dark and dream in front of the big screen. Maggy’s learning has been enhanced by her engagement with her children. She notes quickly that Maison Shalom did not emerge only out of her imagination; she has discovered important ideas and remarkably innovative possibilities from the hope expressed by the children with whom she is working. Maggy’s genius is that she combines a deep theological wisdom, a synthetic imagination, and a willingness to listen to the hopes and dreams of young people. Innovation is a team sport. “Every day I improvise new life,” Maggy says. Maggy does not believe in the Western preoccupation with strategic planning, because she believes that betrays a lack of confidence in God. “My plan,” she says, “is only five letters in the French alphabet: A-M-O-U-R; in English it is only four: L-O-V-E.” 6 It seems too simple. Yet it has proven astoundingly effective, in its scale and scope as well as the visibility of its witness. After all, no strategic planning process would likely have resulted in a decision to build Maison Shalom in the midst of a war, nor would prudent budgeting have led to the incredible scale and scope of the work and the children whose lives have been transformed and who are accountable to a remarkable

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vision marked by love rather than hate, forgiveness and repentance rather than division and brokenness. Love and forgiveness have enabled Maggy to become an inventor and to improvise new life. What we might not notice as clearly is that her innovation has also helped her, the children, and the people of Burundi discover new dimensions of love and forgiveness. Precisely by focusing on a future that is not bound by the destructiveness of the past, by being drawn into creative work that offers new life, people also discover themselves being healed, renewed, and empowered to offer signs of love and forgiveness they otherwise could not have imagined. Love and forgiveness make a future possible; living into an innovative future also makes further love and forgiveness possible for others, and healing and hope for all. It is a virtuous cycle. But Maison Shalom did not appear in a day’s time, and you do not acquire nicknames like “the madwoman of Ruyigi” without possessing tremendous resilience and grit. Maggy gained her reputation by helping build a road to, and for, Maison Shalom in the middle of a battle zone. There are stories of her hiding in the trunks of cars traveling to and from Bujumbura. There were the early years when Maggy would find bodies slung across the fence in front of Maison Shalom, left by assailants to mock the work she was trying to do. Or there were the times Maggy was accused of being a traitor to her Tutsi clan for embracing Hutus. Or the bureaucratic obstacles she had to overcome from local and national government officials. Or the patriarchal attitudes that told her in explicit and subtle ways that women are not supposed to lead but rather should stay home so the men can run things. It would have been easy to lapse back into old mindsets, to become trapped in old patterns of fear, hatred, bitterness, and brokenness. Maggy’s faith and her belief in the new possibilities for life have allowed her to persevere in the face of conditions that would have doomed less resilient and hope-filled people to failure. It took seven years, after all, for Justine and the man who killed her parents to forgive and reconcile with one another. There is no future without forgiveness, and there are no short cuts to the future; forgiveness requires perseverance and patience and hope, traits born out of Maggy’s vision and practices, her willingness to lift her eyes up to God from out of the daily challenges, “to hug everything,” as one journalist has said, “even the horizon.” Maggy continues to struggle with the horrors of the past and the challenges of the present. She notes that there are many times when God has felt distant, when she has cried out. Yet she prays every day, listening to God and listening for God. Such is the character of intimacy with God; indeed, those who are closest to God often experience the darkest nights of the soul. After all, their closeness to God makes the realization of the brokenness in the world all that more intense, including one’s own limi-

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tations and brokenness. They learn to watch the world with Christ in Gethsemane. Yet in their intimacy with God they also find, like Maggy, the most resilient hope. Maggy says, “There are always miracles in the Shalom House [i.e., Maison Shalom] because I believe in love. I believe that nobody can stop me. I compare the Shalom House to a train that God conducts. Nobody can stop this train. He will still move it—because God is God. There will be some cars that will stop. But He will continue to gather Congolese, Rwandese, Europeans saying, ‘Come my children and build my dream.’” 7 Optimists tend to become embittered because they discover the intractability of problems and the brokenness of fallible human beings. Maggy is resilient not because of her confidence in human beings, but because of her trust in God and her hope for the promise of God’s future. For Maggy, innovation and forgiveness go together, and they are linked to an ongoing awareness of the importance of repentance and an acknowledgment of the need to unlearn patterns of sin. Maggy told me in conversation that she prays the same prayer every morning: “Lord, let your miracles break forth every day, and let me not be an obstacle in any way.” Maggy sensed from the beginning that to help children thrive, the communities in which they live must thrive as well. Maison Shalom now employs more than 600 people, many of whom are alumni she helped raise, alumni who as children helped to shape Maggy’s imagination and to dream extraordinary dreams of what might be possible. Maggy rarely asks people directly for help; rather, she casts the vision, telling you stories of what they are trying to do and why—and then trusts that you will want to participate as a result. Her vision, like the Holy Spirit’s work in “making all things new,” is contagious. CONCLUSION We know that the world and our own lives are in need of healing from the wounds and brokenness of the past. We know also at some level that forgiveness for those pasts is crucial. We sometimes fear that forgiveness is not really powerful enough to redeem the past; and, even if it is, we wonder if we have the courage, or the skill, or the truthfulness, to accept and offer that forgiveness in ways that make new life possible. I have suggested in this essay that leaning into innovation, whether as people or through starting social enterprises (or even creating a whole new village), offers a powerful vision for discovering the power and the fullness of forgiveness. Too often we think that the relationship between forgiveness and new life, or forgiveness and innovation, is unidirectional when in fact they are mutually reinforcing. And, in many circumstances,

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innovation may be a key to unlocking possibilities to discover forgiveness. At our worst, we trivialize forgiveness into an easy transaction and we make innovation a technique that can be practiced in five easy steps. At our best, we discover that both forgiveness and innovation are “ways of life” that involve journeys that require and encourage each other. Whether in Nickel Mines, south-central Los Angeles, rural Burundi, or your own local context, the challenges are daunting for finding a future not bound by the destructiveness of the past—ours as well as yours and mine. Yet the opportunities are also present, thanks to God’s gracious and forgiving love and the promise of the Holy Spirit’s work in making all things new. As we glimpse in the faithful, even saintly, work of ordinary folks like the Amish in Nickel Mines, Father G and the Homeboys, and Maggy and Maison Shalom, perhaps we can find ways for love to make us inventors and to improvise new life through innovation and forgiveness. NOTES 1. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995). 2. Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness (New York: Doubleday, 1999). 3. L. Gregory Jones and Célestin Musekura, Forgiving as We’ve Been Forgiven (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books, 2010). 4. I interact with Maggy’s story more fully in my book Christian Social Innovation (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2016), from which much of the description in the next section is taken. 5. Judith Debetencourt Hoskins, Hummingbird, Why Am I Here? Maggy’s Children (Charleston, SC: CreateSpace, 2012), 116. 6. Cited in Emmanuel Katongole, The Sacrifice of Africa (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2011), 178. 7. Cited in Katongole, The Sacrifice of Africa, 180.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Hoskins, Judith Debetencourt. Hummingbird, Why Am I Here? Maggy’s Children. Charleston, SC: CreateSpace, 2012. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. ———. Christian Social Innovation. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2016. Jones, L. Gregory, and Célestin Musekura, Forgiving as We’ve Been Forgiven. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books, 2010. Katongole, Emmanuel. The Sacrifice of Africa. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2011. Tutu, Desmond. No Future Without Forgiveness. New York: Doubleday, 1999.

TEN Forgive and Forget Justice The Tension Between Justice and Forgiveness Stephanie Worboys

Forgiveness is a principal ingredient in Christian morality. Not only is forgiveness essential to reconciliation with God, but we are also commanded to forgive (Eph 4:32; Matt. 6:14–15). To love and to serve Christ requires that this summons be taken seriously. Accordingly, Christians recognize forgiveness as a virtue. Yet in secular moral discourse forgiveness is at times approached with some suspicion. The concern is that forgiveness appears to conflict with some of the most basic principles of moral action, particularly concepts of justice. For this reason, some ethical philosophers question whether forgiveness qualifies as moral at all. The focus of this chapter is to define the shortcomings of prominent views of forgiveness. In the end, we will understand what options are left to us for resolving the tension between forgiveness and justice. If we hope to follow the teaching and example of Christ, the Christian must wrestle with what it means to forgive others. This necessarily includes examining the tension between justice and forgiveness. MORAL GUIDANCE AND THE PROBLEM OF CONFLICTING CONTENT Morality tells us how we ought to live, which includes what we should value and how we should behave. On one level, morality represents an ideal state of affairs and on another level it instructs us. The sum of these instructions form a moral code of conduct, which is comprised of a set of 139

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rules and principles that guide our actions in terms of what is required, permissible, and impermissible. 1 Much of the work of moral theorizing is to ground these rules and to iron out any perceived inconsistencies between them. For example, a moral code that commands that we should both tell the truth and tell lies would conflict over the required truth-value of our statements. Such a code would fail to give us clear guidance and as a consequence lose its force. The first kind of conflict, that of conflicting content, makes the moral code incoherent and should be avoided at all costs. But we often experience a second kind of conflict between moral rules. A favored example used to demonstrate these kinds of conflicts is the problem of the Jews in the basement. 2 As the example goes, you are hiding Jews in your basement when a Nazi officer appears at your door. The Nazi asks you if you are hiding any Jews. Do you tell the truth or protect innocent lives? This situation brings a moral dilemma between being truthful and preserving human life. We accept that both these rules should be followed and normally both rules can be followed. In this case, the problem is one of priority, not content. The task, in this situation, is to determine which rule takes precedence. In life, we regularly find ourselves in complex and nuanced situations that press us to choose between rules. As such, moral conflicts of this second kind are to be expected. Forgiveness is of special concern in moral philosophy because it conflicts with another important rule, the duty of justice. To its critics, this conflict appears to be of the first kind rather than the second. In order to better understand the tension between justice and forgiveness a clear definition of these terms is needed. To “forgive” (from the Old English forgiefan) simply means to “give up,” to “remit” (as in a debt), or to “pardon” (as in an offense). 3 Together, these ideas form the classic understanding of forgiveness, which may be summarized as the act of “refusing a just claim that might otherwise be pressed.” 4 Forgiveness, on this conception, erases the debt of the wrongdoer. This debt may include what is punitively deserved. To forgive, in this way, nullifies the need for justice because the debt justice seeks to rectify is counted as paid in full. 5 According to this classic understanding, forgiveness is essentially relational. At least two parties are involved, the one wronged and the doer of that wrong. Forgiveness is performed between them, where forgiveness is bestowed upon the wrongdoer by the injured party. As forgiveness is done, at least in part, for the good of the wrongdoer it is essential that this is communicated to them. 6 Forgiveness applies to culpable wrongdoers for genuine wrongs. 7 This makes forgiveness distinct from justification and excuse. Although similar to forgiveness, justification and excuse recognize certain features of the situation or facts about the agent that mitigate responsibility. 8 For example, if the act was the best possible choice in a difficult situation it is

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not quite right to blame the agent in the normal way. As with the above scenario concerning hiding Jews, if the homeowner chose to lie to conceal those hidden in the basement and therefore preserve their lives, we do not need to forgive her because what she has done does not require forgiveness. Instead, we would most likely agree that the act was justified because of extraordinary circumstances. Neither would we say that forgiveness is the appropriate response to a young child who grabs a brightly colored item in the supermarket and leaves the store with it. Although it is a theft, due to her age and mental capacity, the child is unaware of the immorality of her action. Hence, the child is not properly responsible and as such is not a candidate for forgiveness. Instead, she is excused. Forgiveness is also different from forgetting. To forget is to overlook a wrong and may be counted as a morally dubious alternative to forgiveness. For example, if a victim of some wrong decides to forget the wrong because she does not want to bother with the offense or because she thinks herself morally superior to her transgressor, she has failed to regard him or the offense with the respect appropriate to them. 9 Forgiveness is instead the kind of act that waives the claim against the transgressor while maintaining that the wrong was a true wrong, the transgressor is responsible, and that both the transgressor and the offense are significant and worthy of moral concern. Forgiveness affirms that some immoral act has indeed occurred and must be dealt with in some fashion. 10 Forgiveness, in order to be forgiveness, must have a moral compass directing its actions. Justice is a rich and textured concept. At a basic level, it consists in giving to each what rightfully belongs to them—what they are due. 11 In this way, justice is also relational. On an interpersonal level, treating people justly involves “judging people objectively and acting accordingly.” 12 Likewise, justice as a virtue of a good society guides our dealings with others by taking account of and judging between competing claims. 13 For these reasons, many conclude that justice is primarily about distribution. 14 It is the function of justice, on this view, to distribute goods and ills, benefits and burdens in accordance with what each person deserves. Justice, as a concern for right distribution, grounds individual entitlements as well as the obligation to make right injustices. 15 Due to its demanding nature, justice is often considered the highest moral requirement. Rectificatory justice is the type of justice that aims at righting wrongs and correcting injustices. As well as determining what is due to whom, rectificatory justice is also concerned with responding to the wrong by standing against it. One way it does this is by censuring the wrongdoer for the act. The moral community, to preserve its own integrity, is obligated to stand against wrongdoing. 16 For if we are at all invested in morality, we must oppose wrongdoing or risk the erosion of our values. Standing against wrongdoing may also vindicate the victim and throw a

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life-line to the wrongdoer. 17 Most of us are blind to our faults and where we do see our faults, we are very good at providing justifications for them. Part of respecting others is warning them about behaviors that may bring about their own destruction. By holding people to account, in the right way, we honor their dignity and their ability to make considered choices. 18 There are various theories that outline the values, goals, and meaning of rectificatory justice. Currently, those that hold the most sway are theories of retribution. There are many versions of retributive theory, what connects them all is the idea that wrongdoers ought to be punished in proportion to their wrongs because it is what they deserve. For this reason, it is a matter of justice that wrongdoers be punished. 19 The demands of such justice illustrate the apparent conflict between it and forgiveness. Justice demands what is due whereas forgiveness forgoes what is due. 20 Put simply, forgiveness appears to set justice aside. This is no new problem, as the ancient Stoic philosopher Seneca observed, “he who forgives confesses that he has failed to do something that should be done.” 21 For this reason, those who believe that justice is the most demanding moral requirement find forgiveness problematic if not altogether immoral. 22 DEFENDING FORGIVENESS One way defenders of forgiveness respond to this tension is to claim that forgiveness is morally praiseworthy because it is a supererogatory act. Supererogatory acts are morally good acts that are not required—they go above and beyond the baseline requirements of moral duty. 23 Some examples include generosity and charity. We are certainly not required to give money to every beggar we pass on the street nor are we required to offer to pay every time we meet a friend for coffee. We admire and praise those who act with generosity and charity because they give when they do not have to. Like charity and generosity, forgiveness is defended as a gift that we are not required to give. 24 This explanation, tenable though it at first seems, does not quite overcome the problems forgiveness presents. The trouble is that if forgiveness ignores justice it is not a gift in the same way as charity and generosity are. Normally we understand justice as the minimum moral requirement for how we ought to treat others at all times. How then, can something that is never required overrule that which is always required? If we consider the Jews in the basement problem, the conflict arises because both rules are required. If forgiveness is a supererogatory act—like generosity and charity—then it is not required. Justice, on the other hand, would always be the morally correct choice because it is required.

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Some defenders of forgiveness are perfectly comfortable with the conclusion that forgiveness sets justice aside. It is able to do this because forgiveness is expedient and for this reason it is morally acceptable. It is judged that, in certain cases where the benefits would be sufficiently gratifying, it would be appropriate to forgo what is due. In such cases, forgiveness can act as a supplement to justice, which allows people to move on, reconcile, and enjoy peace. Although still recognized as important, this explanation operates from the premise that justice is not the highest concern of morality. 25 There is a certain sober and pragmatic appeal to this explanation but a problem remains. Practical expediency is not identical to moral reasoning. 26 Any number of principles may end conflict and achieve desired goals, but that alone is not enough to guarantee that all principles used to achieve these goals are moral. Morality not only informs us of the ends that we should seek, it also limits the kinds of actions we may employ to achieve those ends. As such, that which is properly moral pursues moral ends by moral means. Peace and reconciliation are undoubtedly moral ends, but the fact that forgiveness may achieve those ends is not a sufficient reason to conclude that even if it violates justice it is still somehow morally praiseworthy. It must also be asked if peace without justice is even possible for there would always be the danger that such peace is merely the weak acquiescing to the strong. Overall, those who support the notion that justice can be set aside are few. 27 THE RESENTMENT THESIS The difficulties in resolving the conflict between forgiveness and justice have led many to the conclusion that the nature of forgiveness has been misidentified. According to this line of thought, the classic view of forgiveness confuses forgiveness with mercy. Although conceptually similar, mercy is more general and requires only that one has the power to be lenient or to grant a pardon. A judge, president, prime minister, or sovereign may all have such power, but only the one wronged may forgive. It is not forgiveness then that is in tension with justice, it is mercy. 28 So, if only the wronged party can forgive, then forgiveness must be a response to something specific about being wronged. Such considerations have helped shape a different notion of forgiveness that has all but replaced the classic view. On this notion, forgiveness consists of one essential action: the overcoming of negative emotions, particularly anger and resentment. 29 While forgiveness rules out behaviors that are motivated by anger and resentment, like revenge, forgiveness itself is fundamentally about feelings. 30 Anger is a feeling that expresses a perspective of disapproval towards an action. 31 Resentment is a type of anger which is felt towards “wrongs against oneself” and contains an implicit demand

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that the wrong is recognized and made right. 32 Although these feelings are part of the normal reaction to being wronged, the continued presence of anger and resentment can damage the wellbeing of those who retain them. Forgiveness responds to these emotions and provides an alternative to them. The resentment thesis is appealing for a variety of reasons. Firstly, if forgiveness is primarily about changing how we feel about our wrongdoers, then forgiveness’s field of application is naturally restricted and the supposed tension with justice dissolves. Justice remains an interpersonal and public concern, but forgiveness becomes a private affair of the heart. As such, both can legitimately be done without conflict. Secondly, the resentment thesis highlights an important connection between forgiveness and our emotions. It seems intuitively correct to view with some mistrust claims to have forgiven from people who remain full of resentment towards their wrongdoers. 33 Forgiveness does seem to put an end to these feelings. Despite these advantages, the resentment thesis has its own weaknesses. One problem for this view is that in addition to losing its relational dynamic, it fails to provide any clear reasons why forgiveness is morally good rather than merely a coping strategy that is motivated ultimately by self-interest. 34 This view also appears to limit arbitrarily what counts as forgiveness. While we are likely to have strong emotional reactions to being wronged, this is not always the case. 35 There are cases we normally would count as forgiveness, regardless of whether anger and resentment feature. 36 If the resentment thesis is correct, then these examples would have to be reclassified as something else. In cases where resentment is present, it does seem that forgiveness would neutralize it. Yet it may be premature to conclude this is all forgiveness does. Another serious problem for this view is that it presupposes that we can change these emotions but it does not articulate how forgiveness distinctly achieves this. There are many ways that a person can get rid of unwanted feelings. It is possible that a brain injury or suffering from Alzheimer’s or amnesia could rid us of them. Likewise, medicating ourselves with drugs and alcohol could also have the desired effect. Or, we could simply suppress them. None of these are forgiveness, which would suggest that there is more to forgiveness than a change in emotions. 37 Forgiveness must involve some specific, identifiable action that allows us to set our negative emotions aside in the requisite way. But what would this be? In consideration of this question, Pamela Hieronymi recognizes that the emotions of anger and resentment are sensitive to our judgments. This means that when we experience them, we do so because we believe we have “good reason to.” Because of this connection to our judgments, we cannot simply turn these emotions off at will. Without some specific change in judgment, they are likely to persist. However, for the change in judgment to count as genuine forgiveness it must, she

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insists, leave intact three other related judgments: (1) the act was wrong; (2) the wrongdoer was responsible and should have known better; and (3) the victim should not have been wronged in this way. To give up any one of these judgments would risk demeaning either the victim or the wrongdoer, or would be equal to admitting that there is nothing to forgive. 38 Hieronymi’s illuminating critique strongly suggests that the defining action of forgiveness is something that allows for, but ultimately precedes, the overcoming of resentment. In other words, forgiveness is never less than dealing with our emotions, but it certainly must be more. Unfortunately, the resentment thesis does not disclose what this is. Due to this limitation, the resentment thesis gives us, at best, only a partial understanding of what forgiveness is. THE DEBATE OVER UNCONDITIONAL FORGIVENESS Despite its flaws, the resentment thesis is more or less assumed as the correct understanding of forgiveness in contemporary discussions. Those who have adopted this conception of forgiveness have defended its morality in a variety of ways. One prominent view is that forgiveness can be unconditional. This means that forgiveness can be done by the victim regardless of whether or not the wrongdoer takes any steps to make amends. Nor does the wrongdoer need to know anything about it. Forgiveness can be done in the privacy of the victim’s heart. 39 Supporters of unconditional forgiveness understand forgiveness to be a change of heart towards the wrongdoer and it is this change of heart that makes forgiveness praiseworthy. On this explanation, resentment and anger are viewed as immoral attitudes towards others. Forgiveness, as the counterstroke that neutralizes these immoral feelings, enables the bearer of these emotions to regain the correct attitude towards their wrongdoer. In this way, forgiveness is a way for victims to better themselves morally. Those who take this approach argue that goodwill is the correct moral attitude that we should maintain towards others at all times. The reason for this lies in the intrinsic value of all people, which remains regardless of their moral conduct. Anger and resentment, on the other hand, stifle our goodwill. As that which enables victims to return to goodwill, by setting anger and resentment aside, forgiveness is heralded as a moral way to improve ourselves. 40 According to this strategy, forgiveness is motivated by the victim’s respect for the wrongdoer. Because the wrongdoer already possesses intrinsic worth, they need not take steps to qualify for forgiveness. Instead, it is up to the victim to return her own heart and mind to an attitude of goodwill. 41 One problem this strategy must face is that both options—forgiveness and unforgiveness—equally require that we respect the person in ques-

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tion. Garrard and McNaughton argue that we are commonly angry with wrongdoers because we respect them and therefore forgiveness is not a return to respect. A return to respect then does not necessarily motivate forgiveness over unforgiveness. 42 There are two other related issues with unconditional forgiveness that require some attention. One is that there appears to be a disturbing resemblance between unconditional forgiveness and condonation. Condonation can be described as “the acceptance, without moral protest (either inward or outward), of an action which ought to warrant such protest.” 43 To fail to protest where protest is called for is to affirm tacitly that either the rule that was broken is unimportant or the victim is. The danger with unconditional forgiveness is that by requiring only an internal change of heart by the victim, it appears indistinguishable from condonation, at least to the wrongdoer and the wider community. 44 There is nothing pious about overlooking wrongdoing. A righteous person would not overlook objectionable treatment of victims, this also implies that to overlook one’s own mistreatment by another would demonstrate a lack of selfrespect. 45 This issue with self-respect naturally invites a deeper question about anger, which brings us to the second issue. Anger certainly has a reputation for being unsightly and disruptive but is it immoral? This is a complex question that deserves more extensive treatment than can be given here. Instead, our discussion will be limited to two approaches to this question. According to one approach, anger should be eschewed because it is conceptually tied to a desire for payback. The desire for payback is the desire that the wrongdoer should suffer in some way for what they have done. Desiring that someone suffers is immoral and so anger must also be immoral. Due to the immorality of anger, we should set it aside in favor of forgiveness. 46 Multiple criticisms can be made against this argument. After all, the immorality of suffering remains an open question. 47 If punishment is ever just, then desiring that someone suffer for their wrongs may not be inherently immoral. Furthermore, it is not clear that anger contains rather than merely encourages a desire in us to see the wrongdoer suffer. I may be angry at a friend for spreading a rumor about me, but that does not mean I want her to be harmed for it. Anger may, however, contain a desire to see that what is deserved is received. It is worth considering, however, that this may just as legitimately reflect the victim’s desire to receive what she deserves. Many victims, especially of serious wrongs, live with the painful knowledge that what was done cannot be undone and what was destroyed will remain destroyed. In light of the facts of human agency, the injustice of the wrong, in many ways, stands. This fact alone may be a deeper obstacle to forgiveness than the desire to inflict suffering on a wrongdoer.

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An opposing view of the role of emotions is espoused by Rick Anthony Furtak, a philosopher of moral psychology. In his defense of emotions, Furtak argues that human beings are value-perceivers. As value-perceivers, we are defined by love—by our ability to love and by the things we love. To love something is to recognize the full weight of its significance, its value. By the act of loving, we create inward and outward bonds to what we love. It is these bonds that give rise to the potential to experience a wide range of emotions. To Furtak, this makes emotions an essential way to perceive and respond to value in the world. 48 Morality is also about value. Our emotions, and the appraisals they respond to make it possible to “gain access to the values that orient . . . moral existence.” 49 As such, moral awareness is dependent on an awareness of and a response to value. Accordingly, every type of emotion has to do with value. If we were to renounce any particular emotion, we would essentially be taking a step towards renouncing value and our connection to moral awareness. 50 To close this section on unconditional forgiveness two other points are worth briefly exploring. Firstly, it has been argued that forgiveness can be achieved by a change in perspective, where the victim attempts to see the wrongful act from the wrongdoer’s point of view. The problem with this claim is that it suggests that, due to some features of the situation or something about the wrongdoer themselves, the behavior is somehow excusable, which is not the same as forgiveness. Secondly, it has been suggested that compassion or love is what displaces anger. If we can manage to love our assailants, we will forgive them. We have already partially answered this assertion in a previous section. Recall that in a basic sense, a recognition of the worth and dignity of the offender seems to be a required precondition to viewing their actions as significant and having anger towards them in the first place. 51 It is also important to note that, at times, it is the people we love the most that are the hardest to forgive. And, in some cases, it is our love for certain people that acts as an obstacle to forgiving them. As Hieronymi has astutely pointed out, our deep love for a family member or friend might ground a powerful desire in us to see them turn from their destructive behavior and at the same time, compel us to be angry with them until they do. 52 This is not to say that love and forgiveness are not joined at the hip. What it does suggest is that establishing love for our wrongdoers does not necessarily guarantee forgiveness. THE DEBATE OVER CONDITIONAL FORGIVENESS In light of the deficiencies of the unconditional view, some insist that forgiveness is justified based on the reasons for which it is done. To qualify as praiseworthy forgiveness must be done for moral reasons.

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Those who support this tack endorse conditional forgiveness. Like the unconditional view, the resentment thesis is embraced but unlike the unconditional view, the claim that anger and resentment are inherently immoral is rejected. The conditional view’s understanding of these emotions is more moderate. At least initially, the experience of anger or resentment is a good thing because their presence demonstrates two important things. First, they show that the wronged party values the rules of morality. Second, they indicate self-respect. These emotions become problematic only if they persist. Continued resentment and anger can devastate a person’s physical and mental health. Furthermore, persistent hostile feelings may fuel retaliatory behavior, like the pursuit of revenge. Forgiveness is valuable because it provides one way to short-circuit escalation and promote wellbeing. 53 The pursuit of these benefits certainly motivates forgiveness. But if forgiveness is more than a self-help technique, then the fact that it attains these ends is not enough to confirm its morality. According to the proponents of the conditional view, for forgiveness to be distinctly moral certain conditions must first be met. The most widely accepted condition within the view is apology. 54 An apology demonstrates repentance through the acknowledgment of the wrongness of the act and the wrongdoer’s responsibility for it. An apology also implies that the act will not be repeated because the wrongdoer has mended their ways and is committing to acting morally in the future. 55 For serious wrongs, some further conditions should be met by the wrongdoer before forgiveness is granted. Those include the payment of restitution to victims and acts of penance, which may include acts of service or the willing submission to punishment. 56 As evidence of genuine repentance, the wrongdoer should be amenable to these requirements. There are many benefits to the conditional view. The requirement that the conditions be met ensures that justice is, at least minimally, observed. The conditions also ensure that the victim properly opposes the wrong, which allows the victim to maintain their self-respect. And, by specifically requiring an apology, the wrongdoer and the community cannot mistake forgiveness for condonation. This view also has the benefit of retaining part of the relational dynamic of the classic account of forgiveness, which adds another level of intuitive appeal to their approach. Because the conditional view incorporates a concern for justice one might conclude that it provides the best defense against the charge that forgiveness is immoral. Unfortunately, the conditional view also gives rise to a unique set of concerns, many of which have to do with justice. Some worry that conditional forgiveness is a chilling ritual of denigration. Due to the fact that it is essentially transactional, forgiveness can be used as a covert form of retaliation that manipulates wrongdoers into meeting its demands. 57 Another concern is that although apology, restitution, and penance may make a suitable recipe for seeking forgiveness,

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as requirements for granting it they limit the agency of the victim. This limitation may constitute a second injustice. Part of what is so bad about wrongdoing is that the victim is treated in ways they did not choose. Instead of celebrating forgiveness as a triumph over this, the legitimacy of forgiveness depends upon the efforts of the wrongdoer to make amends. In effect, victims are once more limited and possibly harmed by the moral choices of their assailants. 58 There is also a serious conceptual problem to consider. It seems that according to the resentment thesis what is praiseworthy about forgiveness is the willingness to set aside anger and resentment. But, if the conditional view is correct, then this turns out not to be the case. 59 Recall that if the conditions are not met and the victim sets her resentment aside anyway, her forgiveness collapses into condonation. As such, it is the conditions that establish the grounds for moral praise, not the willingness to put aside one’s negative feelings. Forgiveness, in the conditional view, is reduced to an acknowledgment that the requirements have been met, which is equivalent to good judgment and nothing more. 60 In consideration of this point, some conclude that the concept of forgiveness is paradoxical. If unconditional forgiveness collapses into condonation, then it is immoral. Yet if forgiveness is a response to certain conditions of justice being met, then forgiveness is the just thing to do. On either explanation, forgiveness ends up being incoherent. 61 This conclusion could be avoided if, after the conditions have been met, forgiveness could be shown to do something extra. 62 What would this be? Some have suggested that this extra feature lies in its generosity. Forgiveness is voluntary, which makes it more than the just thing to do. In defense of this point, Charles Griswold is careful to explain that although forgiveness is praiseworthy when it is due, it may be impossible to tell when this line has been crossed. But he also thinks that we can fault people for refusing to forgive when all the conditions have been met. 63 It looks as though, on Griswold’s defense, we end up where we started. The most praiseworthy person turns out to be the one who is the fairest, rather than the most generous. Another proposed solution to this paradox begins from the recognition that justice cannot fully be done. Forgiveness goes beyond the “just thing to do” because it waives these remainders. 64 The problem with this move, however, is that it threatens the resentment thesis. Recall according to the thesis, the distinct act of forgiveness is the overcoming of resentment. What this proposed solution to the paradox suggests is that it is not the overcoming of resentment per se that is the extra movement of forgiveness, it is a merciful waiving of the remainders that justice would normally require. The conclusion that mercy, in some form, is integral to forgiveness seems to be the most promising way to distinguish forgiveness as a moral act in its own right. However, if mercy is integral to forgiveness, then the

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tension between justice and forgiveness comes full circle. If its affiliation with mercy is the best way to distinguish forgiveness from other acts, then the criticism that forgiveness sets justice aside must be met head-on. CONCLUSION In Christian morality, forgiveness enjoys a sacred place. It is at once the gift that secures communion with God as well as a costly summons to be reciprocated with our fellows. The challenge of forgiveness goes beyond the task itself, difficult as it is. For we cannot practice with integrity that which we do not understand. From a distance, forgiveness appears straightforward—an act of love. But when critically inspected its praiseworthy aspects are harder to define. Forgiveness then confronts us with a mystery, it is either the flowering of virtue or a dangerous miscarriage of justice. The moral difficulties with forgiveness make it a regular subject of puzzlement among philosophers, who by their natures cannot leave a mystery alone. All of the views we have canvassed have some appeal because each seems to capture something true about forgiveness. It seems right that forgiveness is a generous gift yet it must also be distinguishable from condonation. It also seems true that it is under the power of the victim to bestow, as evidence of their good character, in response to the dignity and worth of the wrongdoer. Likewise, the power and glory of forgiveness appear to shine most brightly when the wrongdoer has done nothing to deserve it. And, in its most fundamental sense, it seems true that forgiveness both relieves something that the wrongdoer owes while also requiring victims to change their attitude towards those who have harmed them. But these views do not make sense all the way down. Each presents significant problems. There is a growing awareness among philosophers that the standard views on forgiveness fail to capture its true nature, and as such, fail to articulate its moral excellence. Although each view possesses a grain of truth, they all lack a holistic understanding of forgiveness because the insight into its core substance is missing. The conflict between forgiveness and justice seems to require another approach. A possibility we have left unexplored is that forgiveness and justice are distinct and yet are somehow deeply consistent. What exactly this means is up for grabs. One way of conceiving this is that forgiveness participates in justice and perhaps even achieves it, but in an altogether unexpected way. A smattering of philosophers have raised their voices in favor of this unorthodox maneuver but the varied accounts only make gestures towards what is needed to make this view tenable. 65 Despite its fledgling state, this approach is promising because it recognizes that the

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most legitimate understanding of morality would not ignore either virtue. No matter which view we end up endorsing, the need to think clearly about what forgiveness is and what it asks of us remains a pressing matter for all those who wish to practice it well. This is of even greater importance for those who desire to follow the example of Christ. 66 NOTES 1. Lawrence C. Becker, Reciprocity (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), 16–17, 37. 2. This example is often used to stimulate moral thinking in introduction to ethics classes, which is where I first came across it many years ago. Recently, I was introduced to it again in an article on Kant’s murderer at the door problem by Helga Varden. She credits the Nazi example to be a contemporary version of this. Helga Varden, “Kant and Lying to the Murderer at the Door . . . One More Time: Kant’s Legal Philosophy and Lies to Murderers and Nazis,” Journal of Social Philosophy 41, no. 4 (2010): 403. 3. “Forgive,” etymonline.com, https://www.etymonline.com/word/ forgive#etymonline_v_11804. 4. Timothy P. Jackson, The Priority of Love: Christian Charity and Social Justice (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003), 5. 5. P. E. Digeser, Political Forgiveness (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001), 71n9. 6. Digeser, Political Forgiveness, 20, 35; Christopher D. Marshall, Beyond Retribution: A New Testament Vision for Justice, Crime, and Punishment (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2001), 263–70. 7. William R. Neblett, “Forgiveness and Ideals,” Mind 83, no. 330 (1974): 272. 8. Jeffrie G. Murphy and Jean Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 20. 9. Pamela Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 62, no. 3 (2001): 530–31. Digeser, Political Forgiveness, 11n1. 10. Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” 530, 547. 11. Joel Feinberg, “Justice and Personal Desert,” in Rights and Reason: Essays in Honor of Carl Wellman, ed. Marilyn Friedman, et al. (Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands, 2000), 221. Louis Pojman, “Justice as Desert,” Law and Justice Journal 1, no. 1 (2001): 88, 98. 12. Tara Smith, “Justice as a Personal Virtue,” Social Theory and Practice 25, no. 3 (1999): 362. 13. William A. Galston, Justice and the Human Good (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1980), 5–6, 108–16. 14. For example, Tony Foley, Developing Restorative Justice Jurisprudence: Rethinking Responses to Criminal Wrongdoing, ed. Mark Findlay and Ralph Henham, International and Comparative Criminal Justice (Farnham, England: Ashgate, 2014), 19. And, Wojciech Sadurski, Giving Desert Its Due: Social Justice and Legal Theory (Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1985), 9. 15. Foley, Developing Restorative Justice Jurisprudence, 29. 16. Marshall, Beyond Retribution, 136–37. 17. Jean Hampton, “Correcting Harms Versus Righting Wrongs: The Goal of Retribution,” UCLA Law Review 39 (1992): 1686. 18. Linda Radzik, Making Amends: Atonement in Morality, Law, and Politics (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 131. 19. Sadurski, Giving Desert Its Due, 233.

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20. Digeser, Political Forgiveness, 36. 21. I first came across this quote in Charles L. Griswold and David Konstan, Ancient Forgiveness: Classical, Judaic, and Christian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 21. 22. Although an uncommon position, some contemporary philosophers reject forgiveness because they believe it to be a vice. One articulation of this view can be found in John Kekes, “Blame Versus Forgiveness,” The Monist 92, no. 4 (2009). 23. Bernard Gert, “Supererogation,” in The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, ed. Robert Audi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 890. 24. If forgiveness were an obligation, rather than a gift, it would lead to an infinite regress. For more on this, see Digeser, Political Forgiveness, 78–79. 25. Digeser, Political Forgiveness, 4–5, 53–55. 26. Becker, Reciprocity, 21. 27. Digeser is the most prominent advocate of this position but even he argues that some minimal threshold of justice must be achieved prior to forgiveness being granted. See Digeser, Political Forgiveness, 5, 38–40. 28. This distinction and its related points appear throughout the literature. For example, see R. S. Downie, “Forgiveness,” The Philosophical Quarterly 15, no. 59 (1965): 132. Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 20–21. And, Eve Garrard and David McNaughton, “In Defence of Unconditional Forgiveness,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 103 (2003): 48. 29. There is some disagreement over whether forgiveness mediates resentment or abolishes it altogether. For Murphy, overcoming resentment is to be understood as bringing resentment back down to its proportionate level. Griswold, however, argues that bringing resentment back to the mean is only “standing up for oneself” and not forgiveness. Instead, he insists that forgiveness is only unique if it brings resentment to the mean, with a view to rid oneself of it entirely over time. For more on this matter, see Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 15–18. And, Charles L. Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 41–43. 30. Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 21–22. 31. Lucy Allais, “Wiping the Slate Clean: The Heart of Forgiveness,” Philosophy & Public Affairs 36, no. 1 (2008): 54. 32. Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 16. Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” 548, 554. Shelby Weitzel, “On the Relationship between Forgiveness and Resentment in the Sermons of Joseph Butler,” History of Philosophy Quarterly 24, no. 3 (2007): 239. 33. David Novitz, “Forgiveness and Self-Respect,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 58, no. 2 (1998): 303. Downie, “Forgiveness,” 131–32. 34. Kekes, “Blame Versus Forgiveness,” 489. Weitzel, “On the Relationship between Forgiveness and Resentment in the Sermons of Joseph Butler,” 237. Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 23. 35. Kekes, “Blame Versus Forgiveness,” 491. 36. Pettigrove gives an excellent overview of this problem and the kinds of examples of forgiveness the resentment thesis would exclude, see Glen Pettigrove, “I Forgive You,” in Forgiveness and Love (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 1–19. 37. Similar points are made by Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” 529–30. And, Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 22–24. 38. Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” 530. 39. Versions of this view are defended by Margaret R. Holmgren, “Forgiveness and the Intrinsic Value of Persons,” American Philosophical Quarterly 30, no. 4 (1993). Garrard and McNaughton, “In Defence of Unconditional Forgiveness.” Joanna North, “Wrongdoing and Forgiveness,” Philosophy 62, no. 242 (1987). And others. 40. North, “Wrongdoing and Forgiveness,” 499–506. 41. Holmgren, “Forgiveness and the Intrinsic Value of Persons,” 341–51. 42. Garrard and McNaughton, “In Defence of Unconditional Forgiveness,” 52–53.

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43. Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 40. 44. Griswold, Forgiveness, 64. 45. I owe this point to Thomas M. Scanlon, “Giving Desert Its Due,” Philosophical Explorations 16, no. 2 (2013): 106–07. 46. Martha C. Nussbaum, Anger and Forgiveness: Resentment, Generosity, Justice (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 16–17, 21–23. 47. The question of the immorality of suffering is a hot topic in moral philosophy, particularly in discussions of retributive punishment. It is important to recognize that although unpleasant, suffering may not be inherently evil. In many cases, pain informs us when something is wrong. A toothache tells me I need to visit the dentist. Likewise, headaches or chest pain should not be ignored. Without these painful alerts, we would likely die sooner rather than later. Pain is also a natural consequence of love. By loving we open ourselves up to pain when those we love die or betray us. Pain testifies. In the case of chest pain, it testifies of a problem that needs attending to. In the case of bereavement, it testifies of the significance of the loss. If suffering is not inherently evil, then there may be moral justification, at times, for imposing it. 48. Rick Anthony Furtak, Wisdom in Love: Kierkegaard and the Ancient Quest for Emotional Integrity (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 108, 16, 22. 49. Furtak, Wisdom in Love, 122. 50. Furtak, Wisdom in Love, 24–25. 51. Hieronymi covers both of these concerns with a deft hand. See Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” 536–40, 554. 52. Hieronymi, “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness,” 541. 53. Murphy and Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy, 15–24. 54. J. Angelo Corlett and Charles Griswold defend a version of an apology requirement, among others. See J. Angelo Corlett, “Forgiveness, Apology, and Retributive Punishment,” American Philosophical Quarterly 43, no. 1 (2006): 33. And, Griswold, Forgiveness, 24. 55. Radzik, Making Amends, 68, 92. 56. Richard Swinburne, Guilt, Atonement, and Forgiveness (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 81. 57. Nussbaum, Anger and Forgiveness, 72–74. 58. Holmgren and Govier also raise this concern. Holmgren argues that it is the decision of the victim that is paramount and that decision should not depend on the actions of the wrongdoer. See, Holmgren, “Forgiveness and the Intrinsic Value of Persons,” 346. Govier writes, “If we understand rightful forgiveness as being contingent on repentance, we are in effect, allowing a perpetrator’s denial to impose a permanent psychological straitjacket on a victim.” See, Trudy Govier, Forgiveness and Revenge (London: Routledge, 2002), 63. 59. Krista K. Thomason, “Forgiveness or Fairness?,” Philosophical Papers 44, no. 2 (2015): 235–39. 60. Thomason, “Forgiveness or Fairness?,” 242–43. 61. Aurel Kolnai, “Forgiveness,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 74 (1973): 97–98. 62. Swinburne considers this question. For more on this problem and his proposed solution, see Swinburne, Guilt, Atonement, and Forgiveness, 85. 63. Griswold, Forgiveness, 64. 64. We cannot undo or annul the wrong and even the exact amount of punishment is, in many cases, difficult to determine. For more on the limits of justice, see Paul Campos, “The Paradox of Punishment,” Wisconsin Law Review 6 (1992). 65. Some recent attempts to flesh this out appear in the works of Bell, Meyer, Holmgren, and Volf. See, Richard H. Bell, Rethinking Justice: Restoring Our Humanity (Lanham: Lexington Books, 2008). Linda Ross Meyer, The Justice of Mercy (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2013). Margaret R. Holmgren, Forgiveness and Retribution: Responding to Wrongdoing (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012). And,

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Miroslav Volf, “Forgiveness, Reconciliation, and Justice: A Theological Contribution to a More Peaceful Social Environment,” Millennium 29, no. 3 (2000). 66. I am very thankful for the helpful comments that I received on this chapter from Levi Secord and Matthew Doffing.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Allais, Lucy. “Wiping the Slate Clean: The Heart of Forgiveness.” Philosophy & Public Affairs 36, no. 1 (2008): 33–68. Audi, Robert. The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Becker, Lawrence C. Reciprocity London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986. Bell, Richard H. Rethinking Justice: Restoring Our Humanity. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2008. Campos, Paul. “The Paradox of Punishment.” Wisconsin Law Review 6 (1992): 1931–35. Corlett, J. Angelo. “Forgiveness, Apology, and Retributive Punishment.” American Philosophical Quarterly 43, no. 1 (2006): 25–42. Digeser, P. E. Political Forgiveness. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001. Feinberg, Joel. “Justice and Personal Desert.” Pages 221–50 in Rights and Reason: Essays in Honor of Carl Wellman. Edited by Marilyn Friedman, Larry May, Kate Parsons, and Jennifer Stiff. Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands, 2000. Foley, Tony. Developing Restorative Justice Jurisprudence: Rethinking Responses to Criminal Wrongdoing. International and Comparative Criminal Justice. Edited by Mark Findlay and Ralph Henham Farnham, England: Ashgate, 2014. “Forgive.” etymonline.com, https://www.etymonline.com/word/forgive#etymonline_ v_11804. Furtak, Rick Anthony. Wisdom in Love: Kierkegaard and the Ancient Quest for Emotional Integrity. Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005. Galston, William A. Justice and the Human Good. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1980. Garrard, Eve, and David McNaughton. “In Defence of Unconditional Forgiveness.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 103 (2003): 39–60. Govier, Trudy. Forgiveness and Revenge. London: Routledge, 2002. Griswold, Charles L. Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007. http://www.loc.gov/catdir/toc/ecip079/2007003936.html. Griswold, Charles L., and David Konstan. Ancient Forgiveness: Classical, Judaic, and Christian. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Hampton, Jean. “Correcting Harms Versus Righting Wrongs: The Goal of Retribution.” UCLA Law Review 39 (1992): 1659–791. Hieronymi, Pamela. “Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness.” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 62, no. 3 (2001): 529–55. Holmgren, Margaret R. “Forgiveness and the Intrinsic Value of Persons.” American Philosophical Quarterly 30, no. 4 (1993): 341–52. ———. Forgiveness and Retribution: Responding to Wrongdoing. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Jackson, Timothy P. The Priority of Love : Christian Charity and Social Justice. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003. Kekes, John. “Blame Versus Forgiveness.” The Monist 92, no. 4 (2009): 488–506. Kolnai, Aurel. “Forgiveness.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 74 (1973): 91–106. Marshall, Christopher D. Beyond Retribution: A New Testament Vision for Justice, Crime, and Punishment Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2001. Meyer, Linda Ross. The Justice of Mercy. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2013.

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Murphy, Jeffrie G., and Jean Hampton. Forgiveness and Mercy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. North, Joanna. “Wrongdoing and Forgiveness.” Philosophy 62, no. 242 (1987): 499–508. Novitz, David. “Forgiveness and Self-Respect.” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 58, no. 2 (1998): 299–315. Nussbaum, Martha C. Anger and Forgiveness: Resentment, Generosity, Justice. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Pettigrove, Glen. “I Forgive You.” Pages 1–19 in Forgiveness and Love. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Pojman, Louis. “Justice as Desert.” Law and Justice Journal 1, no. 1 (2001): 88–109. Radzik, Linda. Making Amends: Atonement in Morality, Law, and Politics. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. Sadurski, Wojciech. Giving Desert Its Due: Social Justice and Legal Theory. Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1985. Scanlon, Thomas M. “Giving Desert Its Due.” Philosophical Explorations 16, no. 2 (2013): 101–16. Smith, Tara. “Justice as a Personal Virtue.” Social Theory and Practice 25, no. 3 (1999): 361–84. Swinburne, Richard. Guilt, Atonement, and Forgiveness. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. doi:10.1093/0198248490.003.0006. Thomason, Krista K. “Forgiveness or Fairness?” Philosophical Papers 44, no. 2 (2015): 233–60. Varden, Helga. “Kant and Lying to the Murderer at the Door . . . One More Time: Kant’s Legal Philosophy and Lies to Murderers and Nazis.” Journal of Social Philosophy 41, no. 4 (2010): 403–21. Volf, Miroslav. “Forgiveness, Reconciliation, and Justice: A Theological Contribution to a More Peaceful Social Environment.” Millennium 29, no. 3 (2000): 861–77. Weitzel, Shelby. “On the Relationship between Forgiveness and Resentment in the Sermons of Joseph Butler.” History of Philosophy Quarterly 24, no. 3 (2007): 237–53.

ELEVEN An Ongoing Oxymoron Can Anger Coexist with Forgiveness in Christian Responses to Ongoing Injustices? Belinda Jacomb

Love and judgment. Mercy and justice. Anger and forgiveness. These powers are often perceived to be in opposition to each other, or as being unable to coexist in any given response. In this chapter I will explore the relationship between anger and forgiveness, with particular orientation towards discerning any rightfulness for their coexistence within Christian responses to ongoing injustices. 1 Firstly, I will review common Christian conceptions of human anger and forgiveness, and subsequent views on their interrelatedness. Then, in seeking a theologically grounded Christian response, I will explore the anger and forgiveness of the Triune God towards perpetuators of ongoing injustice, as embodied in the work and Person of Christ. Lastly, informed by these reflections, I will recommend some possible responses for those who are experiencing interpersonal anger alongside forgiveness, as they face ongoing injustices. 2 COMMON CHRISTIAN CONCEPTIONS OF INTERPERSONAL ANGER, FORGIVENESS, AND THEIR INTERRELATEDNESS There are some common conceptions found in prevalent Christian culture about the nature of both anger and forgiveness, and their relation to each other. I will review these beliefs, and then I will outline how these conceptions of anger and forgiveness impact each other. I will then show 157

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some of the resulting challenges that this presents for those facing ongoing injustices, giving the experiences of excommunicated members of the Exclusive Brethren sect as a case study. Common Conceptions of Anger One of the challenges in analyzing anger is that the word itself has a range of meanings in the English language. 3 I prefer this morally neutral definition; “anger is our whole-personed active response of negative moral judgment against perceived evil.” 4 For centuries there has been disagreement amongst Christians about the nature and morality of anger, but the foremost perspectives have been negative. 5 Some of the earliest Christian writers spoke strongly against anger; such as St. Jerome who said, “anger is human and the repression of it Christian.” 6 For many centuries, anger has been deemed evil enough to be counted as one of the “seven deadly sins,” 7 and being anger-free is frequently equated with saintliness in popular Christian culture. 8 The origins of these negative perceptions of anger are not only found within religious writings but also within wider Western cultural philosophies, such as the dualistic thinking that elevates logic over emotion, or that views emotional expression as weakness. 9 There is also much biblical material that can be amassed to support the idea that “all anger is sinful.” To give some well-known examples, the Genesis account of Cain and Abel links Cain’s anger with the murder of his brother (Gen 4:1–16). In Proverbs, anger is primarily referred to negatively (Prov 14:29; 15:1; 15:18; 22:24; 29:11; 29:22; 30:33). In the New Testament, Jesus’ words seem to clearly condemn anger, “anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment” (Matt 5:22). 10 There are also several well-known negative references in the Pastoral Epistles; we are counselled to eradicate anger twice (Eph 4:31; Col 3:8) and told “anger does not produce God’s righteousness” (Jas 1:20). A surface reading of these Scriptures certainly builds a case for seeing all forms of anger as sinful, making it understandable that for centuries Christians have believed that to express any anger was to “make room for the devil” (Eph 4:27). Today, in popular Christian culture, anger is arguably still seen primarily as a sin; most books on the topic are guides to the removal or resolution of anger. 11 “He needs anger management classes” 12 is a repeated refrain heard when discussing an angry person; I have never heard of classes available that promote any anger as necessary or beneficial! For women in particular there is a pervasive cultural message that to be “good” is to not be angry. 13 Christian popular culture repeatedly conveys this same message to both genders; to be “good” is to be “nice” and being angry is not nice or good. 14 In situations of current and ongoing

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injustice, passive “lamb-like” responses are frequently seen as a paragon of virtue rather than expressions of “lion-like” resistance or anger. 15 These negative conceptions of anger are understandable, given the undeniable problems that come with unrestrained or unrighteous anger; and also considering that anger is usually extremely uncomfortable to experience. 16 Both Scripture and human experience witness to the power and potential danger of anger, and it is important not to minimize this reality. 17 However, an all-encompassing negative portrayal of anger has its own dangers, particularly outworking into this “cult of nicety” prevalent among Christians today, in which anger is repressed, denied, and feared. Christians who believe this solely negative view can feel ashamed, guilty, or sinful when they experience any form of anger, often leading to further repression and denial, which in turn frequently leads to other issues such as passive-aggression, depression, and loss of sense of self. 18 In public spheres such as church services, acknowledgment of anger, let alone affirmation of any form of it, is usually discouraged or non-existent. 19 Are these popular conceptions of anger truthful—is all anger sinful and opposed to the nature of God? Or can anger have a vital and even righteous place in Christian responses? It is these questions we will explore throughout the rest of this chapter. Common Conceptions of Forgiveness The word “forgiveness,” like “anger,” has a spectrum of meaning in the English language and this has contributed to the confusion about what constitutes forgiveness. There are two common conceptions about the nature of forgiveness that are especially relevant to this chapter’s quest. The first is that the offer of forgiveness is equated with exoneration. 20 Language often used in conjunction with this conception of forgiveness, such as phrases like “I will treat you as if it never happened” or “the slate is wiped clean” affirm this conception, which results in equating forgiveness with a declaration of guiltlessness. 21 Understandably, this conception of forgiveness feels abhorrent, if not impossible and unsafe, to most people—especially those enduring ongoing wrongs. The second perception is that to offer forgiveness is to forget the wrong, as is summed up by the popular phrase “forgive and forget.” 22 This understanding of forgiveness is related to the first, in that if one believes that forgiveness is exoneration, then recalling the wrong opposes this declaration (as one is supposed to now view the wrongdoer as “guiltless”). Therefore, in this philosophy of forgiveness, if one remembers or expresses anger about the wrong, they can be condemned for being “unforgiving” or “bitter.” 23 This provides an insurmountable challenge for those who are living with ongoing injustices, as there is no way to “forget” a present-continuous reality.

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In addition to these popular cultural conceptions, Christian ideas about forgiveness are shaped by well-known Scriptures and stories that emphasize forgiving others. Scriptures such as Christ’s words “if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt 6:15) and imperatives in the epistles to forgive as Christ has forgiven us (Eph 4:32; Col 3:13) are a powerful incentive (or burden) to forgive quickly. Christians who have shown remarkable ability to forgive in dreadful situations, such as in the infamous Amish schoolgirl shooting, 24 have provoked both admiration for their perceived saintliness and scorn from those worried it was actually a harmful response. 25 However, important as these Scriptures and stories are to Christians, we must be cautioned against uncritically reading our culturally informed conceptions of forgiveness back into them. Instead we must seek to have our understanding primarily shaped by our Triune God’s anger and forgiveness, and by God’s own response to injustice. Conceptions of the Relationship between Anger and Forgiveness In summary, the combination of these popular conceptions of anger and forgiveness creates the view that the presence of any form of anger is incompatible with the presence of forgiveness. This view is the natural outcome of the belief that anger is sinful, combined with the belief that forgiveness is exoneration. Therefore, in Christian culture, the presence of any form of anger is frequently judged as a sign that one hasn’t forgiven, and victims of injustices are enculturated to remove it, on pains of being “sinful” themselves if they do not. This combination of beliefs can result in enormous pressure on Christian victims of injustices to “forgive” and simultaneously to eliminate all anger. Therefore, victims of ongoing injustices, who are perpetually having their anger roused, can bear the additional burden of believing its presence means they are ungodly and unhealed. 26 If they also believe that the presence of anger evidences unforgiveness, it can lead to further guilt and fear of God’s judgment (Matt 5:22). These popular notions of anger and forgiveness can therefore combine to condemn Christians who experience anger as they face ongoing injustices. This leads to the need to theologically examine whether our cultural understandings here align with our Triune God’s responses to ongoing injustices, or if our conceptions are awry. After briefly outlining a case study, we will examine the anger and forgiveness of the Triune God to explore these questions.

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A CASE STUDY: CHRISTIAN EXCOMMUNICATED MEMBERS OF THE EXCLUSIVE BRETHREN There are many situations of ongoing injustices which could have been chosen to discuss the relationship between anger and forgiveness. The example I will use is that of excommunicated members of the Exclusive Brethren. The Exclusive Brethren are a Christian sect whose practices and beliefs are considered cult-like, primarily due to their extreme separation from society and their powerful control over members. 27 The Exclusive Brethren practice full excommunication of anyone not adhering to their exact doctrines, meaning that members are required to treat excommunicants as if they have died. 28 This results in the family and entire community treating the excommunicated member as if they were an enemy. 29 This is an injustice that results in deep spiritual, psychological, relational, and emotional harm for the ex-member, often accompanied with physical and financial harm too. 30 It is also an ongoing injustice; ex-members must adjust to a life of ongoing wounding, grief, and anger; as well as (oxymoronically) usually experiencing simultaneous desires towards forgiveness and reconciliation with their radically estranged loved ones. 31 It is thus vital for excommunicated members to develop healthy beliefs and responses of anger and forgiveness. DIVINE ANGER AND FORGIVENESS IN ONGOING INJUSTICES: A BRIEF BIBLICAL THEOLOGY When encountering ongoing injustices, Christians want to know how God is responding to these situations. Is God angered, and if so, what is his anger like? If we believe all forms of anger are sinful, then we may be reluctant to think of a good God being angry. Does God forgive unrepentant perpetuators of injustice, and if so—what is the nature of his forgiveness? Some Scriptures testify to God’s anger towards perpetrators of wrongdoing (e.g. Nah 1:2–6; Ps 75:8; John 3:36; Rom 1:18; Col 3:6; Rev 20:15), yet others say in Christ all sins are forgiven (e.g. Matt 26:28; John 3:16; Eph 1:17; Col 1:13–14; Heb 10:17); if our cultural lens says anger is incompatible with forgiveness, we may then deduce that there are inconsistencies within God’s responses. Therefore, it is vital to identify and withhold our cultural understandings, 32 seeking first to understand the nature of the Triune God’s anger and forgiveness as seen in the metanarrative of Scripture. To this latter task we now turn. The Goal of the Gospel: Reconciliation Before reviewing God’s anger and forgiveness, I propose the only way to understand them appropriately is by placing them within the whole

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metanarrative of the gospel. To briefly recall this overarching storyline we see that the corpus of Scripture witnesses that the Triune God has created people to be in loving relationship with himself, and despite the Fall’s devastating consequences, God is now reconciling all things to Godself and to each other, through Christ (2 Cor 5:16–21). 33 Reconciliation sums up this eschatological goal, towards which the Father, Son, and Spirit are always working. 34 It is this telos of reconciliation that gives us an overarching framework for understanding the nature and purposes of divine anger and forgiveness. Divine Anger: Nature and Purpose With this reconciliation in mind we will now briefly review the anger of God towards perpetuators of injustice. Divine anger (or wrath, to use a more well-known biblical term) is not a popular topic today, even among Christians. Given the prevalent conception of anger as being embarrassing and ungodly this is unsurprising; if so for people, then how much more so for God! 35 However, Scripture often attests to the anger of God, from the well-known wrath portrayed in the Old Testament (e.g. Gen 6:13; Judg 2:4; Ps 6:1; Ezek 25:17; Nah 1:2–6), the fierce anger of Jesus against the religious leaders of his day (e.g. Mark 3:4–6; 11:15; Matt 23:15–36) to the promises of eschatological wrath (e.g. John 15:6; Rom 12:17–21; Rev 19:11–21; 20:15). 36 If we add to this picture the cognizance that every word of judgment carries a holy anger against sin, then it is clear that divine anger is a major, if unpopular, theme in Scripture. So then, what is the nature of divine anger? While the scope of this chapter limits full coverage here, I will summarize some key characteristics and purposes of divine anger as seen in Scripture. Scripture testifies that the nature of divine anger, while certainly fearsome and unpleasant to receive, is grounded in a righteous response to the presence of evil, and a love both for the victims and perpetrators (Prov 3:12; Heb 12:6). 37 Thus its nature is very different to the wide spectrum of human anger, because divine anger arises from perfect judgment, perfect love, and is without sin or evil. 38 Scripture presents divine anger in this age not as arising from any unreasonable or unjust irascibility per se, but as a righteous response to those who obstruct God’s desires for a holy, reconciled people. Divine anger is not static or impersonal but arises from wounded relationship. 39 Although divine anger is portrayed as fearsome, it is also repeatedly said that God is “slow to anger” (Exod 34:6; Num 14:18; Neh 9:17; Ps 86:15; 103:8; 145:8; Nah 1:1). Scripture primarily presents the purpose of divine anger as being restorative rather than punitive. 40 It is a wrath that arises out of holy offense at the wrongdoer, fearsome protectiveness and justice on behalf of the victims, and a loving desire for the perpetrator to cease the wrongdoing, repent, and be reconciled. 41 In this present age divine anger is revealed

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not in immediate punitive acts, but in God’s word of judgment on all sin, sins and Satan, in Christ (Isa 53.10; John 16.11; 2 Cor 5.21) and in the promise of Christ’s judgment to come (Matt 12:36; Rom 14:10–12; 1 Cor 4:5; 2 Cor 5:10; Rev 20:11–15). 42 The postponed, yet imminent, response to evil is because “now is the day of salvation!” (2 Cor 6:2). In this age divine anger is an agent for repentance in view of reconciliation, not an agent for retribution or punishment. To this end we are reminded, “ the Lord is not slow about his promise but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance” (2 Pet 3:9). Therefore, in contrast to much Christian teaching today which passes over divine wrath, Scripture shows that our Triune God is angry, and that this is good (albeit terrifying). 43 If we consider God’s anger is bad or embarrassing, it is probably due to a malformed view which says anger is always sinful or incompatible with love. On the contrary, Scripture shows that a righteous anger exists which is fully compatible with God’s holy nature and his loving purposes for reconciliation. 44 We cannot fully explore the relationship between God’s wrath and his love in depth here, but in summary we can affirm it would be unloving for God to be anything less than angry about injustice and evil. 45 As C. S. Lewis says in typical poetic profundity, “hot wrath, hot love . . . anger is the fluid that love bleeds when you cut it.” 46 Divine anger arises out of love for God’s creatures, and serves reconciliation by stimulating repentance and ending injustices. Therefore, as long as the offer of reconciliation through Christ to God and each other is rejected, the anger of God towards evil will remain upon perpetrators of injustices. Features of Divine Forgiveness The forgiveness of God is another major theme in Christian narratives, and understanding its nature and purposes is vital if we are to shape our own forgiveness in healthy ways, instead of uncritically accepting cultural definitions as truth. 47 Also, as with anger, I propose the metanarrative of reconciliation provides us with a framework for better understanding divine forgiveness. We will now briefly review some key features of divine forgiveness that are relevant to situations of ongoing injustice. Firstly, the purpose of divine forgiveness is ultimately to bring about reconciliation between alienated parties. 48 This may seem like an obvious point, but one common cultural notion of forgiveness is that its purpose is primarily intrapersonal not interpersonal, to enable the forgiver to achieve emotional release or healing. 49 In contrast, the primary aim of divine forgiveness is interpersonal healing. Other-centric love for the sinner and desire for renewed relationship motivates divine forgiveness, and it is offered in the hope of a reconciliatory response. 50 A second characteristic of divine forgiveness is that it always involves a clear word of judgment from the wronged party to the guilty party. 51

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“The word of forgiveness itself is a word of searching judgment.” 52 Forgiveness from God is not exoneration or a declaration of guiltlessness, but a declaration of the wrongdoer’s guilt combined with an offer to absolve them through Christ’s incarnation and death. 53 This is a far cry from the prevalent cultural idea that forgiveness is declaring guiltlessness or has a lenient nature; in contrary, it makes the offering of forgiveness a completely offensive and condemnatory act. This is especially so if the wrongdoer does not accept they need forgiveness, as is usually the case with perpetuators of injustice. 54 Therefore, far from the philosophy of “forgive and forget,” divine forgiveness is an act of remembering the wrong and of clearly naming it, in the hope of stimulating repentance and then reconciliation. 55 Thirdly, Scripture attests that forgiveness is offered to guilty wrongdoers gratis. 56 It is the guilt that warrants forgiveness, not the presence of anything within the wrongdoer that earns it; in the words of Torrance, “repentance is our response to grace, not a condition of grace.” 57 Again, this only makes sense when viewed through the lens of reconciliation; unless God valued restoration of the relationship, why would God forgive when he could simply mete just deserts and go on his holy way? That forgiveness is offered to unrepentant and guilty parties is of importance when considering ongoing injustices; the presence of unrepentant and ongoing guilt does not cause God to mitigate his offer of forgiveness (Rom. 5:8; Eph. 2:5; Col. 2:13). God’s forgiveness originates within divine initiative and undeserved grace, not within the recipient. 58 After considering such generous, grace-full forgiveness which is offered even to the most willfully unrepentant persons, we might ask, “who then cannot be saved?” This leads us to the fourth aspect of divine forgiveness relevant to our discussion; forgiveness itself is not reconciliation, although they are frequently conflated in popular understanding. 59 The common clarion call of Scripture to repent affirms this; while repentance does not earn forgiveness, it is necessary to show that one has truly accepted and received it (along with its inherent words of both mercy and judgment). 60 Thus a wrongdoer may be objectively gifted forgiveness, but if they do not subjectively accept it, then reconciliation cannot take place. 61 Therefore, with Scripture, we must affirm that God’s offer of forgiveness is held out to all of humanity (John 3.16; Acts 13.38; 1 John 2.2), but those who do not accept it will remain unreconciled; not because God was unwilling, but because they were unwilling to accept his corresponding words of judgment and grace in Christ. 62 Thus, in this present age, all is forgiven through the Person and work of Christ, but personal appropriation of that forgiveness, leading to reconciliation, has not taken place for unrepentant individuals. 63

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Divine Anger and Forgiveness: Embodied in the Reconciliatory Work and Person of Christ We have seen that there is righteous anger and forgiveness present simultaneously in the response of God towards unrepentant persons, and seen how both of these are servants of reconciliation. While there is not scope in this chapter to explore fully how these elements contribute to soteriology and Christology, I propose that it is in the Person and work of Christ that we see these elements fully embodied. 64 In Jesus’ life, death, and appointment as the “Judged Judge” 65 we see the Triune God’s fullorbed response of both justice and mercy, of wounded anger and forgiveness. In his incarnation and death, Christ paved the way for forgiveness to be offered to humanity by receiving into himself the anger and judgment that was ours (Isa 53:10; Rom 3:25; 2 Cor 5:21; 1 Pet 2:24). Through the power of the Spirit, in his resurrection and ascension he broke the rule of sin and death, and now is ascended as King and Judge (Matt 25:31–46; John 5:22; Acts 10.38–42; Rom 2:16; 2 Tim 4:1; Rev 19:11), holding out the offer of reconciliation to all. 66 Christ has done all that is necessary to throw open the door of reconciliation, and now the Father, Son, and Spirit continue to call and wait for our responses. In this age, “God in Christ has spoken to us his word of forgiveness, his word of love which is at the same time the word of judgment and condemnation.” 67 If we liken this to an embrace, we would say that Christ is offering to embrace us; but he requires us to respond, which will involve accepting his declaration of both judgment and forgiveness towards us. However, if we refuse to accept these inseparable declarations, we refuse the reconciliatory embrace. 68 In situations of ongoing injustice, Christ’s arms of forgiveness and judgment are being held out to the perpetrators, saying “repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). If there is repentance through being joined in agreement with Christ’s judgment upon their sin, the Spirit will unite them to Christ’s Person and work and they will subjectively know forgiveness and reconciliation with God. This offer of embrace will be held out with its coexisting declarations until the Day of Judgment (Matt 25:31–33; Acts 17:31; Rom 14:10–12; 2 Cor 5:10; et al.). Then, whether we are ultimately reconciled to God will depend not on the forgiveness of our sins (for all is forgiven), but upon whether we have reached our own arms out to accept and receive God’s embrace, offered to us in Christ. Summary of Divine Anger and Forgiveness towards Perpetuators of Injustices In summary, the righteous anger of God is entirely compatible with his offer of forgiveness towards perpetuators of injustices. In fact, they are inseparable; every word of forgiveness carries with it a word of righteous anger in judgment. Both God’s anger and his forgiveness are ser-

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vants of reconciliation, and have their nature and purpose completely shaped by this telos. We find this word of forgiveness and judgment perfectly embodied in the Person and work of Christ. In situations of ongoing injustice, the Father is offering Christ through the Spirit, as the Word of wrath and mercy, of forgiveness and judgment; God’s “No” and his “Yes.” 69 Here in the paradoxical kingdom of God, the seeming oxymoron of forgiveness and anger is in fact no oxymoron at all, but is the only response that a truly loving and just God can give while he waits for sinful, loved creatures to respond. This offer will remain held out in hope for as long as perpetuators of ongoing injustice continue to either ignore or embrace the Word; until the Day of Salvation (2 Cor 6:2) is over, and the Day of the Lord dawns (Zeph 1.14). PARTICIPATION IN CHRIST’S WORD OF ANGER AND FORGIVENESS AS SERVANTS OF RECONCILIATION: IMPLICATIONS FOR MINISTRY AND MISSION Our brief review of divine anger and forgiveness gives insights into the ideal purpose and nature of human interpersonal anger and forgiveness. While acknowledging that fallible individuals are incapable of reaching this ideal perfectly in themselves, the aim of this chapter is not to discuss the ways we fall short, but to hold out a divine response that we can participate in by the power of the Spirit. This will be done by briefly discussing a theology of participation with God’s telos of reconciliation, then of participation with the ongoing ministry of Christ. Finally, I will suggest some implications of all this for both ministry and mission, especially in responding to situations of ongoing injustice. Ambassadors of Reconciliation The Apostle Paul wrote that God has, in Christ, “given us the ministry of reconciliation”; it is God’s ministry, but he has charged us to be ambassadors of it (2 Cor 5:18–20). Just as the nature and purposes of God’s anger and forgiveness are defined by the gospel metanarrative of reconciliation, so ours also must be if we want them to result in interpersonal and intrapersonal healing and justice. 70 If the purpose of our anger has no reference to reconciliation, it becomes distorted and sinful, and when the nature of anger is not paired with love it turns into destructive hate instead of godly wrath. 71 In the same way, if the purpose of forgiveness loses sight of its goal of reconciliation then it becomes a distorted version of the divine model. 72 Without the framework of reconciliation, we too easily form a false “forgiveness” that either makes too much room for ungodly anger (e.g. resulting in refusal to give forgiveness until repentance or worthiness is found in the

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guilty party), or makes not enough room for godly anger (allowing for unhealthy boundary-keeping and unjudged perpetuation of injustice). Surrendering our anger and our forgiveness to the telos of reconciliation aligns it with the goals of the Triune God; however I use the word “surrender” with great reason—to desire reconciliation with a person we have reason to fear or hate is extremely hard. 73 Excommunicated members of the Exclusive Brethren often have some desire for reconciliation naturally present due to familial love; but for many victims of injustice, the idea of desiring reconciliation with those who have caused their pain can be difficult, appalling, or even impossible. 74 We are called to imitari Christi, yet we are not God, and being asked to simply emulate God by sheer effort alone will never work. 75 However, the difficulty of the task should not dissuade us from the validity of the goal; we follow a Savior who said seemingly unmanageable statements such as, “love your enemies” (Matt 5:44) and “with God all things are possible” (Matt 19:26). Therefore, we have to look beyond ourselves to God to make this possible. I advocate this can only be done by the power of the Spirit uniting us with the reconciliatory person and work of Christ. 76 Participation with Christ’s Ongoing Ministry The work of reconciliation is not a moralistic ideal to strive for in our own strength, but is lived by being joined to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, by the power of the Spirit. Being found “in Christ” (2 Cor 5:17) is essential to our being empowered for the task of having our anger and our forgiveness shaped by the gospel goal of reconciliation. 77 We have to see our forgiveness and our anger as mere shadows compared to the anger and forgiveness of Christ, and any ministry of reconciliation that we do as participation with Christ’s continuing ministry of reconciliation, not something that we do alone. 78 Giving people a good understanding and experience of their participation with and in Christ is essential, and it requires constant recourse to the Spirit of God to help us in our weakness to live into it. A theology of participation in this way avoids telling people to rely on their own ability to love an enemy, or to forgive someone they may have no desire in themselves to forgive or be reconciled with. 79 Instead, as we come to a deeper understanding of ourselves as joined with Christ, our responses become increasingly conformed by the Spirit to Christ’s anger and Christ’s forgiveness, along with his desire for reconciliation. Implications for Pastoral Responses in Ministry There are important implications for pastoral responses to ongoing injustices, that result from a cohesive theology of godly anger with for-

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giveness as servants of reconciliation, and the few outlined next are just some of many possibilities. First of all, it gives those providing pastoral counsel to persons suffering ongoing injustices a theological framework to work from, and a way to help identify healthy anger and forgiveness from unhealthy conceptions of the same name. Given the erroneous popular philosophies that abound, it is essential that anyone providing pastoral counsel on these topics does not provide unwise guidance, adding to the burdens of those already suffering. In providing pastoral counsel, it is vital to find out if the counselee has any erroneous beliefs about anger and forgiveness, and to help them to reframe these beliefs as required. 80 If a Christian has unhealthy beliefs about anger, such as all anger being sinful, then developing their understanding of the purpose and nature of divine anger will help to reformulate their own. It will enable navigating forward in a way that avoids the common human extremes of anger, towards either apathy and denial, or unrestrained vengeance. 81 Instead of these destructive responses, being conformed to divine anger empowers us to walk a road where righteous anger is used creatively 82 and lovingly 83 in the service of reconciliation. 84 It is also essential that those suffering ongoing injustices know there is a valid and right place for anger in their responses; indeed it may be “a critical first step in understanding the power of anger in the work of love.” 85 Particularly in situations of ongoing injustice, the presence of anger is a sign of health; zero anger would give cause for concern and could indicate either repression of anger or an “exaggerated self-abnegation.” 86 Especially if the person’s context is one that views all anger as sinful, it is vital that they are reassured that it is their response to anger, rather than the experience of it per se, that is key. 87 It is critical for them to be reassured that righteous anger is part of Christ’s own response to perpetuators of injustice too, and to be encouraged to explore and express their anger in God-honoring ways, as they seek to conform it to Christ’s. Likewise, if a Christian has erroneous beliefs about forgiveness, especially as it relates to anger, then growing in understanding of how they coexist in Christ’s response will provide a godly reference point for shaping their own responses. It is important that their forgiveness work is grounded in its interpersonal nature, even if it includes aspects of intrapersonal work. 88 For those facing ongoing injustices and ongoing stimulation for anger, it is heartening to understand that a forgiving response is not completely without anger and judgment, but that there is room for anger to coexist with forgiveness; as long as both are shaped by the telos of loving reconciliation. It is also essential that these sufferers know that God’s offer of forgiveness (and their own) does not equate to innocencemaintaining acceptance of the other person, 89 or an uncritical guarantee of reconciliation without change on the wrongdoer’s part. 90

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Growing in one’s ability to express this righteous anger and forgiveness in a way that is true to the telos of reconciliation and conformed to Christ will take time, wisdom, and effort. Therefore, it is necessary that Christians facing ongoing injustices are not taught to rely on their own strength for their responses, but that they experience themselves “in Christ,” with their anger and forgiveness as the outflow of participation in Christ’s own Word to the perpetuators, by the Spirit. 91 This conformation and participation will need to be sustained by various ongoing sources, from individualized counsel, to input from Scripture via various means, to practices such as prayer and the Eucharist. 92 I will now outline two examples of the latter that can help those facing ongoing injustices to express their anger and forgiveness in God-honoring ways. 93 An indispensable way to express anger healthily is through both public and private regular practices of prayerful lament, however, to do so culturally in the West is rare. 94 “The journey of reconciliation is grounded in a call to see and encounter the rupture of this world, a space where the right response can only be a desperate cry directed to God. We are called to learn the anguished cry of lament.” 95 While prayers of lament and also indictment are common in the Psalms and elsewhere in Scripture (e.g. Num 12:3; Ps 35; 109; Jer 18.19–23; Mic 6:7; Rev 6:9–10), it is uncommon for many contemporary church gatherings to include lament, with its accompanying acknowledgment of sadness, grief, and anger. 96 This is a great loss, as it implicitly gives Christians the message that God only wants our responses when they are joyful and thankful. Given the fallen state of our lives and our world, we are perpetually being impacted in some way by sin and injustices; to not acknowledge this implicitly denies an experience common to humanity, and it perpetuates the falsely pious idea that good Christians don’t get angry or upset. Combating this could be as simple as regularly including prayers and imprecatory Psalms in worship services that allow for the expression of anger and grief. 97 This would provide a healthy outlet and would model safe, God-honoring ways to express these painful (not sinful per se) emotions. 98 For example, below is a closely paraphrased version of Psalm 56:1–11, that speaks to the common excommunicated Exclusive Brethren experience of being attacked verbally or spiritually. 99 A Psalm like this is very appropriate way for ex-members to give voice to their anger before God. Paraphrase of Psalm 56:1–11 1

Be merciful to me, my God, for those who want to see me fail are in hot pursuit; all day long they press their attack. 2 My adversaries pursue me all day long; in their pride many are attacking me. Even when I don’t hear their words audibly

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Belinda Jacomb or read their letters, I know that they are plotting, waiting, wanting me to fail and fall; to surrender to their desires. 3 When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. 4 In God, whose word I praise— in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me? 5 All day long they twist my words; all their schemes are for my ruin. 6 They conspire, they lurk, they watch my steps, hoping to take my life, to prove them right. 7 Because of their wickedness do not let them escape; in your righteous anger, God, bring them down! 8 Record my misery; list my tears on your scroll are they not in your book? You know my hurts, my wounds, my desperate pleas, my indignation, my unanswered cries for change and reconciliation. 9 By this I will know that God is for me. 10 In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord , whose word I praise— 11 in God I trust and am not afraid. What can man do to me?

Secondly, the regular partaking of communion is another practice that can bring great comfort and strength; particularly if it is used to emphasize certain aspects of the gospel story that speak into situations of ongoing injustice. For example, communion can be a powerful time to remember and be shaped by the gospel story of Christ’s unjust suffering, his love for guilty sinners, and his overarching goal of reconciliation of all people. As we re-tell the story of his holy anger, his loving forgiveness, and the telos of reconciliation, we are invited to re-narrate our own stories and to find our place in his. 100 Reflecting on the cross, we can be comforted by remembering God’s holy anger and judgment against all sin and sins, and simultaneously his offer of grace and forgiveness in Christ. We should not leave righteous anger behind as “sin” before approaching the table, but be encouraged to allow the divine anger powerfully seen at the cross, to shape our own anger through reflection and prayer. We must not brush over the fierce judgment of God to get to the less scary parts of the narrative, but be reminded that the anger we see is founded in holy, loving justice that is for us. Similarly, we should not be told to muster up our own forgiveness of others before approaching the table, but be encouraged to reflect on the

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generosity of the forgiveness of Christ towards all; and to prayerfully align our forgiveness with Christ’s, as enabled by the Spirit. 101 It is also important to remember that in communion, victims of injustices know that not only is God’s judgment and forgiveness held out to their perpetrators, but also that they see themselves as recipients of his Word too. 102 Another aspect of communion that is particularly comforting to those facing ongoing injustices is the proclamation of the return of the enthroned “Judged Judge,” who will set all things right (Rom 12:19). 103 Communion is a meal that lifts us beyond our present circumstances, sustaining our anticipation of the eschaton when reconciliation will be complete, and all new stimuli for the work of anger and forgiveness will be gone. In communion we place ourselves in the metanarrative of reconciliation, and as we partake of Christ’s body and blood we are again united with him by the Spirit, and his word of judgment and forgiveness subsumes and transforms ours. 104 Implications Beyond the Church From these two distinctly Christian practices, which provide room for the seeming oxymoron of anger and forgiveness, we now turn to situations beyond the church. Firstly, understanding the healthy role of anger with forgiveness as servants of reconciliation is a major motivator for mission and engagement with the world beyond the walls of the church. 105 As Kaj Munk says, “we lack a holy rage—the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth . . . a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world.” 106 Having a healthy, God-honoring theology of these areas will motivate and guide the church in missional engagement with a broken world. Secondly, the myths that cling to anger and forgiveness are not only found in popular Christian piety but in wider society as well. We live in a fractured world that is wrestling in multiple arenas with questions related to facing ongoing injustices. While acknowledging that the nature of good anger, forgiveness, and reconciliation would need to be carefully taught, I believe this framework could be helpful to people of all kinds of walk (Christian or not) who are facing ongoing injustices. 107 This is because it deeply acknowledges the reality of injustice, pain, and anger, yet shows how this wounded anger can be vitally paired with the work of forgiveness in seeking justice and reconciliation. 108 This could be for individuals, ethnicities, or communities; 109 indeed, pioneering work is already being done in these areas. 110 For all of these reasons, I suggest that this proposed framework for healthy, God-shaped anger and forgiveness, as twofold servants of reconciliation, is a valuable paradigm for the church’s ongoing ministry and mission with Christ in his world.

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NOTES 1. This is an adapted form of an earlier essay, “An Ongoing Oxymoron: Can Anger Coexist with Forgiveness in Christian Responses to Ongoing Injustices?” in Doing Integrative Theology: Word, World, and Work in Conversation, eds. Philip Halstead and Myk Habets (Auckland: Archer Press, 2015), 149–75, used with permission. 2. This chapter seeks to locate the discussion within the context of those facing ongoing injustices, not historical offenses. In situations of ongoing injustices, there is an ongoing stimulus for anger and ongoing great need for boundaries and safety due to the unrepentance of the wrongdoer, which make questions of anger and of forgiveness very pertinent and arguably more complex than in situations of historical offense. This is not because it is less serious than historical offenses, but because it is a present, dynamic reality. 3. It can be viewed as only an emotion, or also as a psychological and a physical response. It is also used to describe a wide range of heated responses, from mere irritation or indignation to uncontrolled rage. 4. For explication on this definition, see Robert D. Jones, Uprooting Anger (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing Co., 2005), 15. 5. See Chapter 7, “Why is Anger One of the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’? The Christian Tradition,” Andrew D. Lester, The Angry Christian (Louisville, KY.: Westminster John Knox, 2003), 115–136. 6. In his Letter LXXIX to Salvina, St. Jerome, The Sacred Writings of Saint Jerome, (Extended Annotated Edition) (Germany: Jazzybee Verlag, 2012), n.p. 7. See Richard G. Newhauser and Susan J. Ridyard, eds., Sin in Medieval and Early Modern Culture: The Tradition of the Seven Deadly Sins (Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2012). 8. See Chapter 9, “Good Girls Don’t Get Angry,” in Kathleen Fischer, Transforming Fire: Women Using Anger Creatively (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2000), 69–76. 9. “This view persisted from Plato to Augustine to Descartes to Freud, even while evolving a rich and varied vocabulary: reason versus emotion, spirit versus flesh, mind versus body, civilization versus instincts . . .” David W. Augsburger, Anger and Assertiveness in Pastoral Care (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 4–5. 10. All Scripture quotations are from the NRSV. 11. For example, as at the time of writing this chapter, when “anger” was put into the search function of Manna, a large Christian bookstore’s online listing, by far the majority of books produced had titles or abstracts that revealed the contents primarily were focused on minimizing or eliminating anger. Similar results are produced when searching for “anger” within one of the world’s largest online bookstores, Book Depository, where titles including words like “overcoming,” “beyond,” “uprooting,” “beating” (anger) are predominant. There are a few books to be found that speak positively of anger, but the vast majority are negative, reflecting a cultural disposition that is primarily and often exclusively, negative towards anger. 12. I have chosen the pronoun “he” because in Western culture it is much more acceptable for men to express anger than for women, and so when anger is being unabashedly expressed it is most likely to be a man who is doing so. “Despite living in a postmodern society . . . there is still a covert understanding that the outward and visible expression of anger by a woman is inappropriate.” See Keree Louise Casey, “Surviving Abuse: Shame, Anger, Forgiveness,” Pastoral Psychology 46, no. 4 (1998): 226. 13. For more on this taboo on women’s anger, especially within Christianity, see Augsburger, Anger and Assertiveness in Pastoral Care, 5–9. 14. Campbell terms this the “gospel of niceness,” saying it has “had such an effect on Christian groups that anger is constantly evaded, denied, and thereby exacerbated.” Alastair V. Campbell, The Gospel of Anger (London: SPCK, 1986), 14. 15. For Christians, primarily this kind of sanctification of passivity in the face of injustice has been justified by Jesus’ acceptance of the brutality of the cross, and also

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his “do not resist an evildoer” teachings in Matt. 5:39. For more on why this is not the only way to read these texts and the dangers of always equating passivity with a Christian response, see Lester, The Angry Christian, 215–216. 16. See “The Physiology of Anger,” Campbell, The Gospel of Anger, 18–20. 17. Jones, Uprooting Anger, 13. 18. Lester, The Angry Christian, 195–198. 19. Campbell, The Gospel of Anger, 93. 20. I define exoneration as the removal of guilt and blame from a person, to the extent that the forgiver attempts to treat the wrongdoer as if they had done no wrong at all. This is not forgiveness—I concur with Wolterstorff who argues this is “the intrusion of an idea different from forgiveness. When I forgive you for some wrong you did me, I do not cease to ascribe or impute that wrongdoing to you; rather, in full recognition of the fact that you have wronged me, I forgive you . . . I impute to you, that you have wronged me.” Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice in Love (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011), 258. 21. Robert D. Enright and Richard P. Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 1st ed. (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2000), 40. 22. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 44. 23. Kelly Hamilton, “‘Hate the Sin but Not the Sinner’: Forgiveness and Condemnation,” South African Journal of Philosophy 28, no. 2 (2009): 119–120. 24. Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, and David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, 1st ed. (San Francisco, Calif.: Jossey-Bass, 2010). 25. See Julia S. Kasdorf, “To Pasture: ‘Amish Forgiveness,’ Silence, and the West Nickel Mines School Shooting,” Cross Currents 57, no. 3 (Fall 2007): 328–47. 26. The majority of literature on anger as it relates to forgiveness seems to be focused on minimising negative anger; but as it is usually simply termed “anger” and not always defined as negative, this can create problems for those seeking to live with healthy anger, as is the case for those facing ongoing injustices. While in their context, anger may be a sign of health, they can take literature that is negative towards anger and apply it to their contexts inappropriately. For example, the subtitle of the book “Helping Clients Forgive,” is “An Empirical Guide for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope,” and within the book are statements such as “a key feature of forgiveness therapy is understanding, confronting, and reducing or even eliminating anger” (15). While in other places in the book the authors acknowledge the existence of healthy/unhealthy anger (195), the general usage of the word “anger” (as in these examples) is given without adequate clarification; they are referring specifically to negative anger but do not state so. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 15, 195. 27. See Chapter 1, “The Making of a Cult,” in Michael Bachelard, Behind the Exclusive Brethren (Victoria, Australia: Scribe, 2010), 7–26. 28. See John F. Walton, The Walton Story (Palmerston North: John Frederick Walton, 2012). 29. Exclusive Brethren are not allowed to form or maintain relationships with nonmembers, so one’s entire social network is from within the exclusive community. 30. See Chapter 3, “Life in the Brethren,” Bachelard, Behind the Exclusive Brethren, 47–80. 31. “There is strong evidence that such treatment is the norm . . . (excommunicated members) will undergo the same mental and spiritual tug-of-war.” Marion Field, Shut up Sarah (Surrey: Highland Books, 1996), 8. 32. While acknowledging we can only do so fallibly, understanding our cultural hermeneutics is an essential part of faithful Christian living. See “Part 1 Introduction: Toward a Theory of Cultural Interpretation,” in Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Charles A. Anderson, and Michael J. Sleasman, eds., Everyday Theology, Cultural Exegesis (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007), 15–60. 33. For an in-depth study on the gospel metanarrative through the lens of reconciliation, see Robert Schreiter and Knud Jorgensen, Mission as Ministry of Reconciliation, vol. 16, Regnum Edinburgh Centenary (Oxford: Regnum Books International, 2013).

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34. See Chapter 2, “Stepping Back: Reconciliation as the Goal of God’s Story,” in Emmanuel Katongole and Chris Rice, Reconciling All Things, Resources for Reconciliation 5 (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2008), 39–46. 35. As an example, despite the terms “wrath” and “anger” occurring hundreds of times in Scripture, neither of these words are listed in the ‘NIV Concordance’ in the Holy Bible New International Version: With Bible Study Resources (Minto, NSW: The Bible Society in Australia, 2007), 1235–1316. 36. See Chapter 9, “The Anger of God and Jesus,” in Lester, The Angry Christian, 150–168. 37. Bray says, “the God who loves us as his creatures also hates us as sinners who have rebelled against him . . . the paradox is that he hates us because he loves us,” adding “in him, the two apparent opposites are reconciled into one.” Gerald Bray, God Is Love: A Biblical and Systematic Theology (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 140–141. 38. “We must recognize that God’s wrath is a real, objective power, but it is qualitatively different from human anger . . . (it is) the necessary reaction of God’s holiness against sin.” Donald G. Bloesch, God the Almighty: Power, Wisdom, Holiness, Love, Christian Foundations (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 1995), 142. 39. “God is naturally wrathful against sin because of his holy, jealous, righteous character.” For more on the nature of God’s wrath, see Stephen K. Moroney, God of Love and God of Judgment (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2009), 110. 40. Although witness to the latter is present, particularly in reference to eschatological divine responses to those who reject Christ. “Eternal punishment is not injurious to God’s justice and love; rather, it upholds it.” Michael F. Bird, Evangelical Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 337. 41. “God still becomes angry when we continue to sin, but his anger is always in the service of his love.” Bloesch, God the Almighty, 144. 42. “The wrath of God is fully disclosed only in Jesus Christ . . . only in Christ can we discern the mystery that God’s wrath is a form of God’s love, that God’s love is a consuming fire and not simply divine empathy with the human condition.” Bloesch, God the Almighty, 63–64. 43. See Moroney, God of Love and God of Judgment, 141–142. 44. “God’s judgment and righteous anger are real, as is God’s punishment; but they are in the service of a reconciling, covenantal love.” Gregory L. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 107. 45. “God must be angry. A nonindignant God would be an accomplice in injustice, deception, and violence.” Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1996), 297. 46. C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer (London: Collins, 1966), 97. 47. Everett L. Worthington, Forgiving and Reconciling: Bridges to Wholeness and Hope, rev. ed. (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2003), 52. 48. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 113. 49. This is specially so in Western cultures. See David W. Augsburger, Helping People Forgive (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 14. 50. Bird, Evangelical Theology, 550. 51. Torrance notes that if someone says “‘I forgive you!’ it is clearly not only a word of love and reconciliation, but also a word (perhaps a withering word) of condemnation—for in pronouncing his forgiveness, he is clearly implying that the other is the guilty party!” James B. Torrance, Worship, Community and the Triune God of Grace (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 1996), 55. 52. Paul Fiddes, Participating in God: A Pastoral Doctrine of the Trinity (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), 194. 53. Note there is a difference between absolving (where in spite of guilt being declared, the forgiver embraces the wrongdoer in reconciliation) and exoneration (where the wrongdoer is declared as not, or no longer, guilty at all). See Wolterstorff, Justice in Love, 258. 54. Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 55.

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55. Volf says of Jesus, “he was the bringer of ‘grace,’ who . . . made the ‘intolerant’ demand of repentance and the “‘condescending’ offer of forgiveness.” Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 73. 56. Some theologians argue for “legal repentance,” in which our repentance is necessary for forgiveness to be given. For example, see Nicholas Wolterstorff, “After Injustice,” Christian Century 130, no. 23 (November 13, 2013): 28. 57. Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 54. 58. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of Reconciliation, vol. 4:1 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956), 229–230. 59. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 41. 60. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 195. 61. Fiddes, Participating in God, 220. 62. Therefore, “universal atonement does not imply universal salvation.” For more on this, see Myk Habets, “There Is No God behind the Back of Jesus Christ,” in Evangelical Calvinism, eds. Myk Habets and Bobby Grow (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2012), 186. 63. Regarding unrepentant wrongdoers, Barth says “the love of God burns where they are, but as the fire of his wrath . . . the life of God can only mean death for those who are his enemies.” Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4:1:221. 64. “All of these things remain incomprehensible apart from God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ, for only there do we come to understand the unity of his mercy and holiness, the inseparability of his love and wrath.” Bloesch, God the Almighty, 145. 65. See “The Judge Judged in our Place,” Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4:1:211–282. 66. Bird, Evangelical Theology, 472. 67. Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 55. 68. “Implicit in our receiving of the word of grace and forgiveness . . . there must be on our part, a humble submission to the verdict of guilty” says Torrance, “. . . which is repentance.” Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 55–56. 69. “The risen and living Jesus Christ is the one Word of God, this word . . . (is the) act of reconciliation. It is God’s Yes to man and the world, even in the No of the cross which it includes.” Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4:1:347. 70. “Truth and justice are unavailable outside of the will to embrace the other . . . the embrace itself—full reconciliation—cannot take place until the truth has been said and justice done.” Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 29. 71. “Integrating love and anger means that the goal of our anger is not to hurt the other person, but to improve the quality of the relationship . . . here is where the gospel can provide a vision and spiritual energy.” Fischer, Transforming Fire, 92. 72. Augsburger, Helping People Forgive, 164. 73. However partially it is achieved, the telos of reconciliation is vital “even if it is at best an eschatological hope.” See Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 195–197. 74. In this life, the goal of reconciliation may be impossible to reach. “It is especially important in situations of abuse and violence to be clear that forgiveness does not mean trusting or returning to the offender. It is not the same as total reconciliation, which may not be possible.” Fischer, Transforming Fire, 141. 75. Volf upholds that “God’s reception of hostile humanity into divine communion is a model for human relationships.” However, while there certainly are aspects of modeling ourselves on God that are healthy, Volf asks of people what can only ever be done by Christ or at least, in Christ’s power not their own. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 22, 100. 76. “In our human, frail, broken, unworthy response, the Spirit helps us in our infirmities, lifting us up to Christ who, in his ascended humanity, is our God-given response.” Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 88–89. 77. Robin Parry, Worshipping Trinity (Bletchley, Bucks: Paternoster, 2005), 76–77. 78. “Jesus Christ for us . . . is the word of reconciliation on the basis of which there is a ministry of reconciliation.” Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4:1:224.

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79. “God and humanity are one in him, our mediator, who summons us to be reconciled to one another and who sends us out in mission to be ambassadors of the gospel of reconciliation to the ends of the earth and to the end of the age.” Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 87–88. 80. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 37. 81. “Love is better served when anger is neither feared nor denied but given its place in our lives.” Campbell, The Gospel of Anger, 65. 82. Anger is a powerful motivator for creativity and change. See Chapter 20, “Anger and Creativity,” Fischer, Transforming Fire, 172–179. 83. “Anger, like love, is a form of attachment and caring . . . sound psychology and spirituality agree on the fundamental features of situating our anger in a context of love.” Fischer, Transforming Fire, 86. 84. “This pursuit of justice must be situated in the context of love” says Volf, and “true justice will always be on the way to embrace.” Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 224–225. 85. Beverly Wildung Harrison, “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” in Making the Connections: Essays in Feminist Social Ethics (Boston: Beacon Press, 1985), 14. 86. Lester, The Angry Christian, 195–198. 87. Harrison, “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” 14. 88. Augsburger, Helping People Forgive, 97–100. 89. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 294. 90. Augsburger, Helping People Forgive, 96. 91. “Our loving communion with one another is the gift of participating together, through the Spirit, in Christ’s ministry of reconciling love in the community.” Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 115. 92. “We begin by attending to the story of God. We remember it in worship. We tell it to our children . . . we can grasp the vision only as we learn to inhabit the story.” See Katongole and Rice, Reconciling All Things, 46. 93. Harrison remarks that if the church had not been so marked by the avoidance of anger and other deep feeling, it would not be such a “conservative, stodgy institution.” I am inclined to agree. Harrison, “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” 15. 94. “Anger is often prolonged because our culture offers no rituals of resolution, no way for a community to help its members manage anger as it helps them manage sorrow.” Fischer, Transforming Fire, 12. 95. See Chapter 5, “The Discipline of Lament,” Katongole and Rice, Reconciling All Things, 75–94. 96. Campbell, The Gospel of Anger, 93. 97. See Chapter 9, “The Trinity and Lament” for more on this, in Parry, Worshipping Trinity, 129–146. 98. “Rage belongs before God,” says Volf, “in the presence of God our rage over injustice may give way to forgiveness, which in turn will make the search for justice for all possible.” Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 124. 99. I paraphrased this Psalm recently out of my own experiences and since then other excommunicated members have found comfort in reading it as a prayer too. For more on the Exclusive Brethren life and persecution by members to those who leave, see Bachelard, Behind the Exclusive Brethren. 100. “The Christian story provides alternative stories by which we can confront dysfunctional narratives . . . (it) has the power to challenge and transform a current story.” See Lester, The Angry Christian, 250–252. 101. “We have profoundly misunderstood the Eucharist, however, if we thought of it only as a sacrament of God’s embrace of which we are simply the fortunate beneficiaries . . . . We can be its recipients only if we do not resist being made into its agents; what happens to us must be done by us. Having been embraced by God, we must make space for others . . . even our enemies.” See “Space for the Other: Cross, Trinity, Eucharist,” in Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 125–131. 102. Augsburger, Helping People Forgive, 84.

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103. Accepting Christ as our Judge also combats self-righteousness on behalf of the victim, as we surrender not only our “enemies” to Christ’s judgment but also ourselves. Barth says therefore we can trust Christ, “whose decision I can look forward to with trust whatever it may be, in whose hands I can know that my own case and that of others is at least safe.” See Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4:1:233–234. 104. “By grace we are given to participate in the life, ministry, sufferings, death, resurrection and continual intercessions of him who is the head of the body.” See “The Lord’s Supper,” in Torrance, Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace, 81–94. 105. “A Christianity devoted to the increase of love of neighbor and the renunciation of violence cannot avoid creating and responding to anger in the political arena.” Campbell, The Gospel of Anger, 101–102. 106. Kaj Munk was a Danish pastor martyred by the Gestapo in 1944. Quote from Allan Boesak, “The Reuben Option,” in A Chorus of Witnesses, eds. Thomas G. Long and Cornelius Platinga Jr. (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1994), 138. 107. I would also caution that it is only in Christ that we are able to truly respond ideally, as the Spirit enables us. However as with other Christian frameworks and principles, they can be followed to some extent with great result by non-believers too. Surely it is our mandate to share them regardless of whether trust in Christ is present first; in the hopes that trust in Christ will follow. 108. Harrison goes so far as to say, “all serious moral human activity, especially action for social change, takes its bearings from the rising power of human anger.” If she is right, how much more important it is that human anger is shaped by divine anger, love, and reconciliation. Harrison, “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” 14. 109. Lester quotes Cornell West discussing the vital place of good anger in regards to responding to African-American racism, “the constructive expression of anger in the struggle for social equality . . . can be an antidote to a sense of impotence and the loss of hope.” Lester, The Angry Christian, 191. 110. For seventeen profound stories of reconciliation work, many that involve forgiveness along with the place of anger with truth-telling and combating apathy, etc., see “Part 2: Experiences of Reconciliation Locally and Globally,” in Schreiter and Jorgensen, Mission as Ministry of Reconciliation, 16:173–318.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Augsburger, David W. Anger and Assertiveness in Pastoral Care. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. ———. Helping People Forgive. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Bachelard, Michael. Behind the Exclusive Brethren. Victoria, Australia: Scribe, 2010. Barth, Karl. Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of Reconciliation. Vol. 4:1. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956. Bird, Michael F. Evangelical Theology. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013. Bloesch, Donald G. God the Almighty: Power, Wisdom, Holiness, Love. Christian Foundations. Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 1995. Boesak, Allan. “The Reuben Option” Pages 132–138 in A Chorus of Witnesses. Edited by Thomas G. Long and Cornelius Platinga. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1994. Bray, Gerald. God Is Love: A Biblical and Systematic Theology. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012. Campbell, Alastair V. The Gospel of Anger. London: SPCK, 1986. Casey, Keree Louise. “Surviving Abuse: Shame, Anger, Forgiveness.” Pastoral Psychology 46, no. 4 (1998): 223–31. Enright, Robert D., and Richard P. Fitzgibbons. Helping Clients Forgive. 1st ed. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2000.

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Fiddes, Paul. Participating in God: A Pastoral Doctrine of the Trinity. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000. Field, Marion. Shut up Sarah. Surrey: Highland Books, 1996. Fischer, Kathleen. Transforming Fire: Women Using Anger Creatively. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2000. Habets, Myk. “There Is No God behind the Back of Jesus Christ.” Pages 173–199 in Evangelical Calvinism. Edited by Myk Habets and Bobby Grow. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2012. Hamilton, Kelly. “‘Hate the Sin but Not the Sinner’: Forgiveness and Condemnation.” South African Journal of Philosophy 28, no. 2 (2009): 114–23. Harrison, Beverly Wildung. “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love” Pages 3–21 in Making the Connections: Essays in Feminist Social Ethics. Boston: Beacon Press, 1985. Holy Bible New International Version: With Bible Study Resources. Minto, NSW: The Bible Society in Australia, 2007. Jerome. The Sacred Writings of Saint Jerome. (Extended Annotated Edition). Germany: Jazzybee Verlag, 2012. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Jones, Robert D. Uprooting Anger. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing Co., 2005. Kasdorf, Julia S. “To Pasture: ‘Amish Forgiveness,’ Silence, and the West Nickel Mines School Shooting.” Cross Currents 57, no. 3 (Fall 2007): 328–47. Katongole, Emmanuel, and Chris Rice. Reconciling All Things. Resources for Reconciliation 5. Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2008. Kendrick, Graham. “Come and See (We Worship at Your Feet” lyrics. Graham Kendrick. https://www.grahamkendrick.co.uk/songs/graham-kendrick-songs/make-way-forthe-cross-let-the-flame-burn-brighter/come-and-see-we-worship-at-your-feet. Kraybill, Donald B., Steven M. Nolt, and David L. Weaver-Zercher. Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy. 1st ed. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2010. Lester, Andrew D. The Angry Christian. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2003. Lewis, C. S. Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. London: Collins, 1966. Moroney, Stephen K. God of Love and God of Judgment. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2009. Newhauser, Richard G., and Susan J. Ridyard, eds. Sin in Medieval and Early Modern Culture: The Tradition of the Seven Deadly Sins. Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2012. Parry, Robin. Worshipping Trinity. Bletchley, Bucks: Paternoster, 2005. Schreiter, Robert, and Knud Jorgensen. Mission as Ministry of Reconciliation. Vol. 16. Regnum Edinburgh Centenary. Oxford: Regnum Books International, 2013. Torrance, James B. Worship, Community and The Triune God of Grace. Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 1996. Vanhoozer, Kevin J., Charles A. Anderson, and Michael J. Sleasman, eds. Everyday Theology. Cultural Exegesis. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007. Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace. Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1996. Walton, John F. The Walton Story. Palmerston North: John Frederick Walton, 2012. Wolterstorff, Nicholas. “After Injustice.” Christian Century 130, no. 23 (November 13, 2013): 26–29. ———. Justice in Love. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011. Worthington, Everett L., Jr. Forgiving and Reconciling: Bridges to Wholeness and Hope. Rev. ed. Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2003.

TWELVE Siphiwo Mthimkhulu, Daniel Grootboom, and the Art of Forgiveness David Tombs

This chapter discusses fictional film events relating to Daniel Grootboom in light of actual events relating to Siphiwo Mthimkhulu. Siphiwo Mthimkhulu was an African National Congress (ANC) youth activist in the Eastern Cape who disappeared in 1982, along with his friend Topsy Madaka. Their car was later found abandoned near the border with Lesotho, as if they were fugitives. Their families and comrades suspected that they had been abducted and secretly killed by the security police but without their bodies little could be done to discredit the official denials. 1 The previous year the police had detained, tortured, and poisoned Mthimkhulu. At the time Mthimkhulu was released from police custody he became so sick he was expected to die, but he had made a partial recovery, and initiated a law case against the police. He had kept records of his mistreatment and named Gideon Nieuwoudt as the officer most responsible. So, when Mthimkhulu and Madaka disappeared, Nieuwoudt’s involvement was strongly suspected. For nearly fifteen years Nieuwoudt dismissed the allegations that he was responsible for Mthimkhulu’s disappearances. He denied any responsibility or knowledge of Mthimkhulu or Madaka’s whereabouts. Nieuwoudt’s career in the police during these years had earned him the nickname “Notorious Nieuwoudt”; he was suspected of involvement with many of the highest profile police abuses in the Eastern Cape. 2 His protestations of innocence ended in December 1996, when he submitted applications to the amnesty committee of South Africa’s Truth and Rec179

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onciliation Commission (TRC) in five separate cases. 3 One of his applications was for amnesty for his role in the detention, death, and illegal disposal of Mthimkhulu and Madaka. During the amnesty process, Nieuwoudt met with Mthimkhulu’s family, apparently in the hope that the family would offer him forgiveness. 4 Instead, towards the end of his conversation with the family, he was struck forcibly on the head with a vase by Mthimkhulu’s teenage son Sikhumbuzo. The meeting was filmed by Mark Kaplan, as part of a documentary that Kaplan was making. 5 Nieuwoudt’s encounter with Mthimkhulu’s family offers an interesting vantage point from which to view the film Forgiveness (2004) directed by Ian Gabriel. 6 The film is set over a four-day period and tells the story of Tertius Coetzee’s visit to the village of Paternoster. Tertius is a police special branch officer, with some obvious similarities to Nieuwoudt. Ten years before the visit he interrogated, tortured, and killed the student activist Daniel Grootboom. He subsequently applied to South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and was awarded amnesty. Yet he remains troubled by what he did. He has left the police but has been unable to leave his own past behind him. He wishes to meet with Grootboom’s family in Paternoster to tell them what really happened which forms the basic plot of the film. A central scene features an attack on Coetzee by Grootboom’s teenage brother, Ernest Grootboom, that echoes the attack on Nieuwoudt by Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu. 7 Forgiveness is a moral drama dealing with evil, loss, and the search for salvation. It raises challenging questions about the ethics of forgiveness, and it avoids simplistic answers. How can the destructive consequences of past wrongdoing be addressed? What role should forgiveness, and self-forgiveness play? How can past abuses be acknowledged and addressed? The film is not intended to retell Mthimkhulu’s story, or offer a historical reconstruction of Nieuwoudt’s encounter with his family. 8 Any assessment of the film’s treatment of forgiveness should recognize and respect that the genre is art not history, fiction not fact. Nonetheless, an awareness of the real-life stories of Mthimkhulu, his family, and Nieuwoudt, can offer a deeper insight into the film’s portrayal of the moral complexity of forgiveness. The real-life stories suggest that Gabriel consciously chose to offer a positive but challenging artistic exploration of forgiveness, with a far more demanding sense of forgiveness than Nieuwoudt had in mind when he contacted Mthimkhulu’s family. The film explores what is needed for forgiveness to have integrity, and how truth might offer healing even though it cannot come cheap. The determination of Tertius Coetzee to face the consequences of his actions, rather than evade them, is a crucial factor in his own moral recovery. Furthermore, his willingness to face the truth also prompts different members of the Grootboom family to face up to their own mistakes and painful truths. The film leaves open the question of whether or

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not the Grootboom family eventually forgive him. Nonetheless, it offers a clear message about what is required if forgiveness, including self-forgiveness, is to be meaningful. Acceptance of personal moral accountability, and honest acknowledgment of failure and wrongdoing, is crucial to any meaningful forgiveness. The quest for forgiveness has no integrity if it is self-serving and intended to avoid consequences. By contrast, in the real-life story, Nieuwoudt’s words and behavior suggest that his motivation in both the amnesty applications and his hope for forgiveness from the family was cynical and selfish. Nieuwoudt offered the TRC the minimum co-operation possible for his amnesty. His applications and appearances suggest that he wanted impunity without having to acknowledge his moral failure or its impact on others. Kaplan’s documentary suggests that Nieuwoudt’s main hope was for the past to be simply ignored. His request for forgiveness appealed to Christian values but without any willingness to take responsibility for the suffering he had caused. This chapter begins with a brief discussion of amnesty provisions within the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It notes that the amnesty process was a legal process with no requirement for personal forgiveness, but it prompted a significant public debate about forgiveness. As chair of the TRC, Archbishop Desmond Tutu was a committed advocate of personal forgiveness and saw it as part of individual and national reconciliation. The perspective on forgiveness offered in Gabriel’s film reflects many of the issues that came up in this debate. The film is a study in what taking forgiveness seriously should mean. AMNESTY, RECONCILIATION, AND FORGIVENESS Amnesty provisions for perpetrators of apartheid-era human rights abuses were a key element in the political negotiations over South Africa’s democratic transition in the early 1990s. The governing National Party wanted a blanket amnesty, but the ANC resisted this demand. In the end, they agreed on an imperfect political compromise. This put amnesty on an individual basis, rather than sanctioning a blanket amnesty, and limited its scope to politically motivated offenses. It also determined that the amnesty process would be part of South Africa’s highly innovative national Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Political transitions in Latin America had previously made use of truth commissions to document past abuses. In the early 1990s the truth commission in Chile had been called a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, but the inclusion of the word “reconciliation” had signaled that, unlike the truth commission in Argentina, this truth recovery was not expected to lead to prosecutions. The South African use of a truth com-

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mission to actively promote both interpersonal and national reconciliation was a new and daring venture. The terms for South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission were set by the Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act 34 (1995). 9 This was intended “to promote national unity and reconciliation in a spirit of understanding which transcends the conflicts and divisions of the past” (section 3). It would offer an amnesty to perpetrators who made full disclosure, give opportunities for victims to give their own accounts of the violations they had suffered, recommend reparation measures in respect of these violations, and compile a report to document its work. The TRC amnesty was therefore a quasi-judicial process. 10 The amnesty provisions were more political than ethical, and the criteria were based on legal conditions rather than on moral judgments. The formal conditions for amnesty were limited to four key requirements. First, applicants had to submit a written application for the act or omission concerned. Second, they had to tell the truth about the relevant facts in both their application, and in testimony at a public hearing if called upon to do so. Third, they had to identify a credible political objective or context, as reason for their action. Fourth, they had to show sufficient proportionality (and genuine connection) between what they did and the political motivation that they claimed. If applicants met these criteria, they could expect an amnesty for their actions. They were not required to feel remorse or express regret, they did not have to recognize what they did as wrong, they did not have to apologize to their victims or their families. The amnesty provisions were more concerned with national reconciliation than with individual reconciliation. They were a political compromise to enable a relatively peaceful transition and to encourage the acceptance of the new order by the security forces. They promoted some accountability to the direct victims but were more of a transaction between the amnesty applicant and the state, rather than the amnesty applicant and the people they directly harmed. Since recipients of amnesty would avoid future criminal or civil prosecutions, it is no surprise that the amnesty process provoked a public conversation on Christian forgiveness and its role in reconciliation. Given the strength of the churches in South Africa, and the high percentage of the population who identify themselves as Christian, this was to be expected. As chair of the TRC, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, attended hearings in his readily identifiable clerical dress, and it was commonplace for public hearings to begin with prayers, or hymn-singing. When explaining the work of the commission, Tutu spoke positively of forgiveness as a key to reconciliation and healing. He saw forgiveness as a positive way to address the past and open a new and better future. 11 He frequently spoke in favor of personal forgiveness as an expression of Christian faith and as an opportunity for new beginnings. Tutu’s personal charisma and leadership style, reinforced by

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his widely recognized moral authority as an outspoken critic of apartheid, amplified his voice and his advocacy of forgiveness in public discussions. 12 For many South Africans, Christian support for forgiveness served a positive purpose with regard to how individual and national reconciliation should be understood. 13 A collective spirit of forgiveness helped to avoid a potential bloodbath. 14 However, in some ways the language of forgiveness confused public perceptions on amnesty. The ethical issues involved in the amnesty provisions might be better understood as “mercy” rather than as “forgiveness.” Mercy fits better with the legal framework of the amnesty process, and provides a clearer basis on which to weigh the state’s rights against the rights of those who did not wish to forgive. 15 Yet it was the discourse of forgiveness that was most common in public debates about amnesty and reconciliation. 16 This was partly because there were inspiring cases of individual forgiveness that took place under the auspices of the TRC, and these attracted widespread media attention. Encounters in which forgiveness was sought or offered received extensive media attention, since they offered very dramatic images and personal human stories. In some cases, the integrity of these encounters point to the extraordinary generosity of those who had suffered deeply to find the grace to forgive. Yet other cases suggested that perpetrators were also willing to manipulate this generosity. Some appealed to reconciliation as a Christian duty without taking any account of the corresponding duty of remorse and restoration. Tutu was well aware that there are different interpretations of forgiveness and what it involves. At their most facile, Christian approaches to forgiveness can take the form of a simplistic “forgive and forget.” This can only be appropriate for the most trivial of infractions, and is only likely to be appropriate when these were not intended, had little impact, and there is no expectation that they will be repeated. Forgetting is woefully inadequate as a response to serious wrongdoing, especially when it was done with intent and has ongoing consequences. Any attempt to deal with a violent past by simply pretending it did not happen, or does not matter, is deeply flawed. Appeals to Christian forgiveness by those who benefited under an oppressive regime are often cynical attempts to hide these obvious failings under a veneer of Christian piety. As Tutu puts it in his book No Future Without Forgiveness: Forgiving and being reconciled are not about pretending that things are other than they are. It is not patting one another on the back and turning a blind eye to the wrong. True reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the pain, the degradation, the truth. It could even sometimes make things worse. It is a risky undertaking, but in the end, it is worthwhile, because real healing can only come from having dealt

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In some cases, security force applicants for amnesty appeared genuinely remorseful for their actions, and seemed to take ownership of their moral failure. Some expressed regret, even though this was not required. In other cases, they appeared to treat the amnesty process more like an irksome bureaucracy. Applicants often refused to engage with the deeper issues in any meaningful way, beyond the bare minimum of whatever was required to avoid the risk of future prosecution. Public hearings could ask how amnesty applicants had justified their actions to themselves, and how they had lost sight of the common humanity that they shared with their victims. To be questioned in this way in public, and to be televised, put moral pressure on the applicants. Nonetheless, there was relatively little that the commission could do if applicants refused to respond or claimed that they could not remember. SIPHIWO MTHIMKHULU AND GIDEON NIEUWOUDT Siphiwo Mthimkhulu was born in 1960 and grew up in a Port Elizabeth township. He became politically active in his teens and joined the Congress of South African Students (COSAS) in 1977. His activism led to his arrest on 31 May 1981 and he endured five months of detention, interrogation, and torture. 18 During this period he was beaten, forced to stand for long periods, tortured with electrical shocks and suffocated with wet towels, doused with very cold water, and starved. 19 Eventually he signed a statement to confess that he had distributed ANC leaflets to promote a boycott of the government’s plans for a Republic Day celebration. After signing the statement, Mthimkhulu was released on 20 October 1981 and returned to his parents, Joyce and Sipho Mthimkhulu. When he arrived home, he complained that he felt ill. He developed severe stomach pains, and his legs were so swollen he had difficulty standing and walking. He went to the local hospital and when he continued to deteriorate he was sent to a more specialist hospital in Cape Town. Tests in Cape Town showed that he had been poisoned by thallium, a rare and highly toxic chemical, and the large dose seemed to be intended to kill him. With a proper diagnosis and appropriate medical care Mthimkhulu’s health slowly improved. He was released from hospital in January 1982, and returned home, but was confined to a wheelchair. In response to the mistreatment he had experienced earlier in his detention, Mthimkhulu initiated a legal case against the police. He had kept a diary of his time in custody and he gave a copy to his mother. In April 1982, he announced that he would also bring a second legal case, to sue the Minister of Police for poisoning him just before his release. A magistrate’s inquiry that was

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part of the original mistreatment case was scheduled for 5 May 1982, with members of the security police subpoenaed to appear. In the affidavit for this case, Mthimkhulu had named Nieuwoudt as his principal torturer. But before the enquiry took place, Mthimkhulu and Madaka disappeared on 14 April 1982. 20 The police denied any involvement in their disappearance and claimed the pair had fled into exile. To maintain the façade Nieuwoudt even raided the family house on the pretense of looking for Mthimkhulu who he claimed might be in hiding there. In 1989, a former commander of the secret Vlakplaas police unit, Dirk Coetzee, gave an interview to the South African journalist Jacques Pauw. Coetzee’s revelations of police death squads involved in covert operations received extensive media coverage in the months that followed. They included the allegation that, in 1982, Jan du Preez and Nick van Rensburg, who were both senior police officers, had ordered the deaths of Mthimkhulu and Madaka. 21 In 1990, a commission to look into Coetzee’s claims had been set up under Justice Harms. However, Harms had accepted police denials at face value. Despite the transition to democracy, the police continued to deny any role in Mthimkhulu’s death or any knowledge of his fate. This was therefore one of the high-profile cases that the TRC hoped might shed light upon in its Human Rights Violations (HRV) hearings. Joyce Mthimkhulu was scheduled to testify on her son’s disappearance at the very first HRV hearing scheduled for East London in April 1996. It had been reported in the press that she would name those she believed to be responsible. However, Du Preez and Van Rensburg obtained a court order to prevent alleged perpetrators from being named at TRC hearings without notice. 22 Joyce Mthimkhulu had travelled to East London from Port Elizabeth (nearly 300 kms), but her testimony had to be postponed. 23 It was not until the Port Elizabeth hearing, on 26 June 1996, that she finally got her chance to testify. 24 Joyce Mthimkhulu’s appearance provided one of the most dramatic and memorable moments in the TRC process. 25 As evidence of the poisoning, she held up a piece of her son’s hair with parts of his scalp still attached to show the commission. 26 After Siphiwo Mthimkhulu had been poisoned much of his hair had started to fall out, and she explained that she had saved this piece of it. She told the commission that hair which had been cut would not have the scalp attached, so she wanted to show it as evidence that he had been poisoned. Later in her testimony she said that this hair was all that she had left of her son. She said it must have been God’s will that she did not bury it previously, so that it would be available to show the Commission. Joyce Mthimkhulu told the Commission that her son had told her that Nieuwoudt was the one who led the severe assaults on him when he was in detention. 27 His written account of his experiences in detention had

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been included in the affidavit he submitted, and this provided additional details on his treatment. Reading aloud from this account, Joyce Mthimkhulu described how Nieuwoudt used a variety of tortures, including what would now be termed “water-boarding.” Nieuwoudt left the office with a towel. He returned. The towel was wet and dripping with water. He tied it over my nose and mouth. As I inhaled water entered my nasal passage. Breathing was difficult. I lost consciousness. 28

In addition, he was also shocked with electricity until he lost consciousness. Nieuwoudt told Kaplan that he had tried “to turn” (recruit) Siphiwo Mthimkhulu to become an informer, but had failed. 29 In her testimony to the TRC, Joyce Mthimkhulu made clear that she had not encouraged her son’s political activities and had disapproved of them at the time. She feared that they would land him in trouble, and he had already been expelled from school. 30 At the end of her testimony, Joyce also requested that Dirk Coetzee come before the Commission. 31 Dirk Coetzee had been supposed to testify on Mthimkhulu’s death but was prevented from doing so on legal technicalities. 32 Although he was not able to give formal testimony, he confirmed in a TRC Special Report interview that he would have testified that police poisoned Mthimkhulu with the intention of killing him. When the poisoning was not successful the police decided to eliminate Mthimkhulu another way. Coetzee said Brigadier Jan du Preez had told him in person that the Eastern Cape Security Branch had killed Mthimkhulu and Madaka. 33 MARK KAPLAN’S BETWEEN JOYCE AND REMEMBRANCE When Joyce Mthimkhulu gave her testimony, the film-maker Mark Kaplan, was working with her to make a documentary about her son’s disappearance. 34 Kaplan had a long-standing interest in Mthimkhulu’s abduction. He first met the family in 1995 and filmed Joyce Mthimkhulu during her testimony at the TRC’s Human Rights Violation hearing in 1996 and her subsequent meeting with Nieuwoudt. His award-winning 30-minute documentary was initially released as Where Truth Lies (1999). An updated and expanded revision was subsequently released as Between Joyce and Remembrance (2004). At the time of the Human Rights Violation hearing, June 1996, Nieuwoudt was still denying any responsibility. His lawyer dismissed the testimony Joyce Mthimkhulu gave to the TRC as merely “hearsay,” which his client rejected. 35 Kaplan’s documentary records Nieuwoudt’s denial of all responsibility, and his insistence that anyone suggesting otherwise is telling “a pack of lies.” 36 However, earlier that same month,

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Nieuwoudt had been convicted in another case (known as the Motherwell Four killings) and faced a lengthy prison sentence. Six months later, in December 1996, Nieuwoudt changed his story on Siphiwo Mthimkhulu. Along with three other senior officers he admitted involvement in the abduction and killing of Siphiwo Mthimkhulu and Topsy Madaka, and burning their bodies, on 14 April 1982. 37 The amnesty application was submitted just two days before the deadline for amnesty applications. 38 The amnesty hearing took place 22–26 September 1997. The police admitted that Mthimkhulu and Madaka had been driven 300 kms from Port Elizabeth to Post Chalmers at Cradock. At Post Chalmers they had both been killed. 39 To hide their crimes, the police built a fire, burned the bodies, and disposed of what was left in the nearby river. Nieuwoudt did not give much more away in terms of specific details. He admitted that he himself shot Madaka but claimed that a fellow officer shot Mthimkhulu. Nieuwoudt was especially reticent about how Madaka and Mthimkhulu were treated between their arrival at Post Chalmers and their murders. However, Dumisa Ntsebeza (former TRC Head of Investigations) told Kaplan: “I am clear in my own mind that they tortured those people. And maybe the torture was so heinous, so you know, brutal, that even they are not prepared to stand up in public and be counted on that.” 40 In 1998, with the amnesty decision in the Mthimkhulu case still pending, Nieuwoudt approached Kaplan, and asked him to arrange a meeting with the Mthimkhulu family. Nieuwoudt told Kaplan: I reconciled with Christ. I do believe in the objectives of the Truth Commission because even God commands that. I have committed a sin; I have done my brother wrong. I must ask God forgiveness for the sin, and then go to my brother and say to him, listen I have done you wrong. 41

Kaplan was skeptical of his sincerity. He comments in a voice-over: I knew that Nieuwoudt would be hoping that, as a good Christian, Joyce would feel compelled to forgive him and I thought how convenient that he feels that Christ has forgiven him, and looking at him I see no signs of remorse. Looking at him what strikes me most is how remote he seems, but perhaps this is merely the outer sign of someone suddenly powerless now trying to hold things together while living a nightmare. 42

Joyce Mthimkhulu also had reservations. She had previously told Kaplan: I have not forgiven them. Why must I forgive them? When they do not want to tell the truth? And the beauty part of this, they are not asking forgiveness from us, the people who have lost their beloved ones, they are asking forgiveness from the government. They did not do nothing to the government. What they did, they did to us. 43

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The Mthimkhulus had particular reason to suspect the sincerity of a religious motivation on Nieuwoudt’s part. Joyce Mthimkhulu recalled earlier visits when Nieuwoudt had come to the house as a police officer, but dressed so that he might be mistaken as a priest. She told Kaplan: They usually came to my house pretending to be a priest, especially Nieuwoudt. Nieuwoudt is wearing a collar and a black coat. Having a Bible. Pretending there’s a priest. With a gun. 44

Despite these misgivings, the Mthimkhulus agreed to a meeting with Nieuwoudt and to it being filmed by Kaplan. Joyce and Sipho Mthimkhulu, and Siphiwo’s half-brother Ndiphiwe Giyose, participated in the meeting. Siphiwo’s children were also present, but in the background, his daughter Aluta, and his son Sikhumbuzo. Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu had been born in January 1982 and was sixteen-years-old at the time. He had not found out that his father had been killed by the police until the TRC hearing the previous year. 45 At the meeting, Nieuwoudt tells the Mthimkhulus that he has come to seek forgiveness from the family, “for what hardship I have caused in the past, as a result of the apartheid regime.” 46 As he speaks, the inner feelings of Joyce and Sipho Mthimkhulu are suggested by their body language. Joyce looks to the side, whilst Sipho looks to the ceiling. Joyce seems uncertain what to say, almost lost for words at what she is hearing. She takes time to put on her head scarf. Her reply is dignified and cautious as she signals that she is open to an honest conversation if this is what Nieuwoudt has come for: Mister knows very well who I am. We are also pleased that you have come to sit here today and facing each other an eye to eye. 47

Nieuwoudt’s behavior at the meeting does little to suggest that he is any way remorseful for the suffering he has caused, or genuinely concerned for its impact on Joyce or others in the family. 48 He appeals to a Christian understanding of reconciliation but avoids the moral consequences that come with this. He tells Joyce: With truth and sincerity, I come here today. This is where reconciliation starts. Where the Lord is being honored, his name be glorified and we seek wisdom and knowledge from him. 49

At the same time as he claims to put his faith in God, Nieuwoudt nonetheless insists that he knows very little about the poisoning of their son, and flatly denies any personal or shared responsibility for it. He suggests that it might not even have been the police and that it could have been someone else. When he is pressed on the poisoning he responds: “I can state with clear conscience I know nothing about it. I wasn’t even the last person to release him.” 50 Likewise, despite the affidavit from Siphiwo Mthimkhulu naming Nieuwoudt as his torturer dur-

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ing his detention, Nieuwoudt denies using any physical force against him. 51 Nieuwoudt then adds: “And a matter of fact, I never eliminated Mthimkhulu, yet I’m here, and asking you people forgive me.” 52 This last point might be technically correct, if his claim that he shot Madaka but not Mthimkhulu is true, but it is an extraordinary statement to offer in the presence of grieving parents, and suggests he has no real concern for the harm he has caused. In answer to the question on when he became a Christian, Nieuwoudt replies “That was in ’72, I gave my life to God.” 53 Joyce Mthimkhulu replies that he has failed as a Christian and tells Nieuwoudt that he has left his request for forgiveness so late that it is “coming at sunset.” 54 She says: “It is late. It is not late for God, but for me you came late.” 55 Nieuwoudt presses the issues and replies that he has done his duty. He says that although it is difficult for them as a family, it is also difficult for him. 56 Sipho Mthimkhulu, who has sat quietly up to this point, tells Nieuwoudt that his wife is saying he is too late, “15 years too late.” 57 It seems clear that no one in the family wishes to offer the statement of forgiveness that Nieuwoudt had hoped for, but he continues to focus on this. Then, suddenly, Sikhumbuzo goes behind him and smashes a china vase down on Nieuwoudt’s head. 58 Nieuwoudt jumps up clutching his head and the meeting ends in confusion. A shocked Nieuwoudt is pictured with blood running down his forehead and cheek. Sikhumbuzo is hustled outside and driven away in a car. Whether or how this encounter with the family made a difference to how Nieuwoudt’s amnesty application was judged is hard to tell. As noted previously, amnesty did not require personal remorse or forgiveness, so it should not have mattered either way. Nonetheless, since Nieuwoudt clearly seemed to have no real remorse, and little sense of what forgiveness should involve, the most plausible explanation of his wish to meet the family is that he hoped he could use it to influence his amnesty. In March 2000, the TRC ruled that Nieuwoudt and the other three applicants had met the amnesty criteria required in the Mthimkhulu and Madaka case and granted them amnesty. 59 It was a controversial decision which raised questions on whether Nieuwoudt had really been fully cooperative and truthful with the process. Had he really made a full disclosure about what might have happened before their deaths? The amnesty committee decided that he had done enough to satisfy the requirement in the case, but in some ways it was a limited victory. His amnesty applications in the other four cases were each rejected. Although the prosecution and appeals process meant that he ultimately avoided prison for all but a very short period, he spent the rest of his life entangled in legal affairs, until his death from cancer in 2005, aged 54. 60

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DANIEL GROOTBOOM AND TERTIUS COETZEE Ian Gabriel’s film Forgiveness (2004) opens with Tertius Coetzee driving into the fishing village of Paternoster and asking directions to the cemetery. His first destination in Paternoster is the cemetery, where he stops at a graveside. He wipes the sand from the wooden cross to reveal the name Daniel Jakobus Grootboom, 1971–1991. It soon becomes clear that Daniel Grootboom was a student activist who Coetzee killed in custody. After checking into the Ahoy Bed and Breakfast, Coetzee meets with the local priest, Father Dalton. Dalton takes him to meet the Grootboom family, the parents, Hendrik and Magda, their daughter Sannie, and teenage son Ernest. 61 They meet outside the family home, situated by the sea and overlooking the beach. The conversation is stilted and difficult. Tertius is nervous, both Hendrik and Magda are largely silent, and Ernest and Sannie are openly hostile. 62 This early scene suggests that avoidance is the way that Hendrik and Magda have chosen for dealing with the past. Hendrik says that some things are better left in the past. It is hardly surprising that the family feel this way towards Tertius and wish to avoid talking to him. Ernest and Sannie are ready to erupt and at one point, Ernest throws the book he is writing in at Tertius. When Daniel’s death is eventually mentioned Magda drops the plate she is holding and it breaks. Sannie confronts Tertius and tells him he should leave, and Tertius accepts this and returns to the guesthouse. Tertius’ arrival in Paternoster will eventually shatter the family’s silence, as signaled by the shattered plate at the first meeting. The encounters with the family are painful experiences for all concerned, but eventually his arrival prompts the family to address issues that they need to confront. Following this initial meeting, the film immediately introduces a subplot that explores retributive violence as a common response to past wrongs. Sannie telephones Llewellyn, one of Daniel’s friends and part of the same ANC cell. She explains that Tertius Coetzee has come to Paternoster but she told him to leave. When Llewellyn hears this, he tells her to try and keep him in Paternoster. He wants her to delay him long enough for Llewellyn to drive from Johannesburg to Paternoster to confront him. Llewellyn then picks up the two other members of their former cell, Zuko and Luke, and together they start the long drive to Paternoster. Although it is not stated at this point, there is a strong suggestion that they plan to kill him. 63 This becomes even more likely as the journey continues. There is unresolved tension between the three of them, and their disagreements eventually boil over into a fist-fight, when Luke (who is white) is accused by Llewellyn of betraying Daniel. To prove he was not a collaborator Luke takes them on a long diversion to pick up a still hidden weapon. The interactions between the former activists devel-

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op alongside the main plot in Paternoster. Eventually, in the last scenes of the film the two plots will come together and meet each other head on at Daniel’s graveside. The morning after the phone call to Llewellyn, Sannie hurries to the Ahoy to try to persuade Tertius to stay. To convince him, she suggests he should come again with Father Dalton to talk with the family. Keeping Tertius in Paternoster allows the film to explore a third approach to the past. This third option offers a possible alternative between the corrosive self-destruction of avoidance and the self-defeating violence of revenge. However, it is built on the proper acknowledgment of responsibility. To work it must address moral failure around truth, denial, freedom, and guilt, without resorting to a false innocence or cheap forgiveness. The film explores these challenges through a sequence of encounters with the Grootboom family, which draws on a wider conversation with Christian language and imagery on forgiveness. The film signals its interest in Christian symbolism and thinking in a number of ways. One obvious element is the physical presence of Father Dalton during the initial encounters with the family, and in the final scene at the graveside. In addition, the film is set in the village of Paternoster, which is a fishing village 150 kilometers north of Cape Town. The name Paternoster (Pater noster, “Our Father’) is revealing. The prayer for forgiveness that is best known and most often prayed in Christian faith (Matt 6:12 and Luke 11:4), is part of the Lord’s prayer that Jesus taught his disciples to pray, which starts “Our Father” (Matt 6:9–13, Luke 11:1–4). 64 The choice of Paternoster suggests the film is metaphorically located within the Lord’s Prayer. 65 The film rejects any suggestion that forgiveness offers an easy or cheap answer to the guilt that Tertius feels, or the regrets and self-blame that other characters are carrying. Instead, it suggests that if forgiveness is to have integrity then it cannot be sought for self-advantage and that it may come at great personal cost. Forgiveness cannot rest on forgetting what happened, or pretending it did not matter and can be ignored. The film suggests that it is only when people confront wrongdoing in all its pain and complex culpability that they can find new ways to recovery, freedom, and restored life. At the outset, Tertius is in a state of physical and psychological disarray. As he drives into town he swallows pills from a jar, the camera cuts away to show the jar is just one of many on his passenger seat. Early scenes picture him taking heavy doses of pills and repeatedly applying the eye drops, but they appear to offer little relief. After this first meeting with the family, when Father Dalton drops him back to the Ahoy, Tertius falls to his knees to retch and vomit as he gets out of the car. When he washes his face in the basin in his room he looks at himself in the mirror and asks: “What did you expect, you murdering bastard?” Later that night, unable to sleep he climbs out of his

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window into the garden. He is discovered the next morning by the owner of the guest house kneeling next to a stand-pipe in the garden and half undressed. He is in a clearly disturbed state and is repeatedly whipping a piece of hose pipe against the stand-pipe and has perhaps been whipping his own back. 66 Following Sannie’s invitation, when Tertius arrives for the second meeting with the family, the atmosphere is initially even more tense than the first meeting. Ernest is furious that Sannie has invited Tertius back and just before Tertius arrives Hendrik tells Sannie to cancel the meeting. She in turn accuses her father of being embarrassed by Daniel’s political activities and asks why people think that Daniel was killed in a car hijacking. Hendrik says Daniel was meant to get an education not get himself killed. Sannie says that Hendrik blames Daniel for not fulfilling the family’s hopes, and wasting the family’s money. Hendrik slaps her face in response, and it is clear that she has touched on a sensitive issue. 67 The arrival of Tertius with Father Dalton increases the tension further. However, the mood changes a little as the family become more interested in what Tertius might reveal about Daniel’s torture and death. Hendrik asks whose idea it was to make it look like a car accident. Tertius says it was his. He tries to be honest with them and describes the brutal and prolonged torture that he used against Daniel. 68 He says that on the first day they forced Daniel to stand on a brick, and if he fell off they beat him with a piece of hose pipe. They also wrapped a wet towel around his face until he could not breathe and passed out. The next day they started to use electricity on him, including shocks to his genitals. Father Dalton suggests that Tertius spare the family the details, but Hendrik says that they wish to continue. Tertius explains that it got to the point where Daniel begged him to “just kill me.” At this point, Ernest smashes a china teapot down on Tertius’ head with full force. Tertius falls forward and there is uproar as Hendrik seeks to restrain Ernest from doing more. Tertius gets to his feet holding his bleeding head but insisting that he is alright, and that Ernest did nothing wrong. Father Dalton and Sannie take Tertius to a hospital. It turns out that despite the blood and the cut to his head the damage from the blow is not too bad and his head can be bandaged. When Ernest meets Tertius the next morning, Tertius assures him that it is okay and that he will tell Hendrik that it is not a problem. This is a pivotal moment in the film. In view of the other references to Christian imagery and symbolism it might even be read as a form of Eucharist. The pot is fractured and blood is spilt, but this leads to a new basis for his relationship with the family starting the next day, the third day of his stay in Paternoster. Tertius’ own violence and wrongdoing has been much more serious than Ernest’s impulsive attack on him, but the film uses the attack to

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suggest that in both cases the resort to violence is a false solution. 69 By not blaming Ernest, Tertius provides space for the Grootbooms to do their own reflection on what has happened. This reflection includes recognition that the wrongdoing and need for forgiveness does not stop with Tertius, they each have things that they regret with regard to Daniel. The next day, Hendrik has an apparently miraculous catch of snoek— a local fish— which up to that point had become strangely scarce in the nearby waters. The allusion to the miraculous catch in Luke 5:1–11 seems unavoidable, and the whole family are revitalized and drawn into the busy work of cleaning and salting the catch. When Tertius visits to tell Hendrik not to worry about his head injury he finds the family gutting and salting the fish. Tertius suggests that to celebrate the catch he would like to take the family out to a meal at a restaurant. This marks a significant further step in their interaction. As Hendrik and Magda get ready to go to the restaurant they talk about Daniel in a way that they appear not to have done before. Magda confesses that she once blamed Hendrik for Daniel’s death but not anymore. At the restaurant, Magda attributes the return of the snoek to the waters to Tertius’ presence. Ernest replies dismissively that it was not Tertius who did this. Magda asks who it was, and Ernest says it was the sea, whilst Sannie says it was God, “God brought the fish back.” Magda says if you believe in God then you must also believe in forgiveness. This is the first time that forgiveness has been directly named. Up to this point Magda has been almost a silent shadow figure but now she takes on more of a leadership role. She turns to Tertius and says that if he has come in search of forgiveness then he needs to ask it of Daniel not of the family. She suggests that they should all go to the cemetery with Father Dalton the next day and ask for forgiveness. The dinner ends abruptly with Ernest still furious at Tertius, but the easing of the burden on Magda and Hendrik is notable as they remain behind to enjoy the music and dance with each other. Later that night, Tertius is helping a bird free from a net when Ernest approaches him on the beach. Tertius senses that Ernest is in turmoil and the viewer knows that he is carrying a large fish knife. Tertius allows him to approach and tells Ernest that he once made a terrible choice and now it is Ernest’s turn to choose. Ernest recognizes the truth in what he says and turns away. Violence will not bring Daniel back or help the family deal with their loss. This is reinforced shortly afterwards. Sannie tells Tertius that Daniel’s friends are on their way and he should leave that night. Tertius makes it clear he won’t leave and tells her “Once you start something like this, it doesn’t end.” Sannie responds “You don’t want forgiveness, you just wish to be punished.” But he replies, “Not any more.” It is clear that his three-day stay in Paternoster has had a profound effect on him, and he is ready to face up to Daniel’s friends as well as his family.

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When Tertius meets with the family at the graveside the next morning, Magda tells Father Dalton that “Daniel always loved the Paternoster.” Dalton leads them in the Lord’s Prayer, and just as it reaches the lines on forgiveness Daniel’s three friends finally arrive. Tertius invites the three of them to join the family in saying a prayer for Daniel, and Father Dalton repeats the prayer. The film suggests that forgiveness might at last now be possible. Tertius and the family have each chosen to face the truth of their own respective failings, and to seek forgiveness for them. This is not to read the film as creating a moral equivalence between the family and Tertius, or suggesting that their actions amounted to the same. Rather, the message appears to be that everyone stands in need of forgiveness from others, and from themselves, for whatever they do to harm others and themselves. As Tertius says goodbye to the family members after the prayer, none of them speak directly of forgiveness, but it is clear that each one now feels very differently from their first meeting. As Dalton says goodbye he confesses that he misjudged Tertius when he first arrived. Anybody can claim to have forgiven himself or herself, just as anybody can claim to have received forgiveness from God. But simply making this claim does not in itself make it true or meaningful. Like the forgiveness offered by God, the ethical logic of self-forgiveness has its own demands. True self-forgiveness requires a genuine acknowledgment of wrongdoing and regret for one’s actions, along with a commitment to act differently in the future and a wish to address the damage one has caused. As the film Forgiveness suggests, ethically responsible self-forgiveness can be as difficult, or even more difficult than the forgiveness of others. As Father Dalton says, “There can be no salvation without the light of the truth.” Only a self-imposed wish to face the truth and its consequences can safeguard the ethical integrity in self-forgiveness. This seems to be the state that Tertius has reached by the end of the film as he faces Daniel’s friends. THE ART OF FORGIVENESS There are obvious similarities between the characters and plot of Forgiveness and the real-life story of the Mthimkhulu family and Nieuwoudt. At the most obvious level, the composition of the families more or less corresponds. Daniel Grootboom’s family (Magda, Hendrik, Sannie, and Ernest) in the meeting with Tertius Coetzee more or less corresponds to Siphiwo Mthimkhulu’s family (Joyce, Sipho, Aluta, and Sikhumbuzo) in the meeting with Gideon Nieuwoudt. Likewise, both encounters include the presence of a third party, the priest Dalton and the film-maker Kaplan, who have a role in arranging events and are present in the back-

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ground as observers. Furthermore, the wider context in both encounters is the TRC process around amnesty and national reconciliation, and the questions this raises for the place of personal forgiveness. Daniel Grootboom and Siphiwo Mthimkhulu are both young activists opposed to the apartheid regime who act out of strong political convictions. They both undergo extended and brutal torture, including simulated drowning, beating, and being made to stand in one spot for extended periods. Daniel Grootboom’s activism was opposed by his parents just as Siphiwo Mthimkhulu’s parents were initially opposed to his political involvement. 70 However, the film links Grootboom’s activism much more directly to violence, through his association with explosives and plans to attack a nuclear power station. This elevates the seriousness of the allegations against him. The film may have the 1982 attack on the nuclear power plant at Koeberg in mind here. 71 But Mthimkhulu had no connection to this or to anything similar. Mthimkhulu’s alleged crime was to distribute political leaflets for a banned organization. This further underlines the stark brutality of the police response, and undermines Nieuwoudt’s attempts to excuse himself. The greater severity of the allegations against Grootboom may be a purely dramatic device, or it may be intended to encourage greater sympathy for the situation Coetzee faced. At an ethical and legal level, it is always wrong for a police officer to torture or kill a prisoner, regardless of whether they have been caught with explosives or with leaflets. Nonetheless, Coetzee is presented as having been in a much more pressured position than Nieuwoudt. Likewise, the teenager Ernest Grootboom has clear similarities to the teenager Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu. Ernest strikes Coetzee with a teapot, in the same way that Sikhumbuzo strikes Nieuwoudt with a vase. 72 In both the documentary and the film this spontaneous response comes as a shock and a surprise to all concerned. It disrupts the careful and cautious conversation and brings into the open the turmoil of intense emotions that might otherwise be passed over. There is no equivalence between the sustained and systematic abuse of violent power by the state against those in custody and the spontaneous and isolated response to it depicted in the acts of Ernest or Sikhumbuzo. Nonetheless, it is a reminder that violence often gives rise to further violence if it is not addressed in other ways. Sikhumbuzo told Kaplan that he had not planned to attack Nieuwoudt. He had been in the background in the meeting and out of the picture. However, he says he got increasingly angry as he heard Nieuwoudt’s lies and was frustrated that he did not get a chance to ask Nieuwoudt his own questions. Sikhumbuzo had only become aware that the police murdered his father at the amnesty hearing the previous year. He said that Nieuwoudt kept lying to them at the meeting and he did not forgive him. 73

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Despite these similarities between the film and the actual events surrounding Siphiwo Mthimkhulu and his family, Gabriel’s film relocates and reframes the action in at least five notable ways, which promote a deeper engagement with important questions around forgiveness. First, Coetzee’s meetings with the family are all set after he has already received amnesty. Even though he has a self-interest in the meetings, there is no suspicion that the real agenda is to use the encounters to influence an amnesty decision which is pending. His self-interest in meeting the family seems to be in facing up to what he has done and taking moral responsibility for it. By the end of the film, although Coetzee no longer wishes to punish himself, he is determined to face the consequences of what he has done. He does not seek to avoid Daniel Grootboom’s friends even though he understands the potential risks. Whereas Nieuwoudt refuses to face up to his actions, Coetzee refuses to avoid them. Second, the history of the relationship is different. Coetzee has not had prior contact with the family. Coetzee did not follow the murder of Daniel Grootboom with harassment, intimidation, or mockery of the family. He did not take a legal case against them to prevent their appearance at a TRC hearing, or publicly accuse them of lying. This makes it easier to take Coetzee’s words and actions in the film at face value, rather than assume that they are simply self-serving attempts to avoid real responsibility. Third, the presence of Kaplan and the film-crew highlights that Nieuwoudt had a public audience to which he could speak and to whom he could make his case. In the film, the only other person present at the meeting is the priest, Father Dalton. The family themselves are the primary concern and there is no wider audience to which Coetzee might be tempted to play. 74 Although Father Dalton is present, his vocation as a priest implies a sense of confidentiality rather than publicity. There is no suggestion in the plot that Coetzee is trying to address anyone other than the family themselves. Fourth, although Coetzee initially expects the teapot incident to mark the end of any further conversation, he doesn’t use it to blame Ernest Grootboom or expect him to be punished. When the family are concerned about what Tertius might do next, he uses this as an opportunity to reengage with them over his own wrongdoing rather than his injury. In a key scene a short time later, when Ernest Grootboom confronts him on the beach, Coetzee accepts that Ernest could kill him if he wishes to do so, but he helps him to see that this would be a terrible mistake. It would inevitably be the ruin of his own life. Fifth, both Nieuwoudt and Coetzee explain themselves on the grounds that they were fighting a war and following orders, but Coetzee no longer sees this as a moral defense. For him, it is a reason but not an excuse. By contrast, Nieuwoudt seems to feel he was justified, even right-

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eous, in what he did. It was Nieuwoudt’s continued lies and his failure to take moral responsibility that prompted Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu’s reaction. Although Nieuwoudt never explicitly says the words, his rationalizations and behavior suggest he believes that he himself has been the victim. CONCLUSION Nieuwoudt’s crimes and his wish for cheap forgiveness make Gabriel’s film Forgiveness more controversial than it would otherwise be. Whilst the film does not seek to deal directly with the issues arising in Nieuwoudt’s crimes, or in his encounter with the Mthimkhulu family, these are nonetheless part of the background to the film and its reception. Gabriel is not seeking to make a movie about Mthimkhulu and Nieuwoudt, but he uses parts of their stories as a starting point for the film’s exploration of forgiveness. The film suggests that the wrongs of the past must be addressed, even though they cannot be undone. It presents the resort to either avoidance or violent revenge as understandable but short-sighted. Both of these avenues eventually lead to self-destruction rather than justice or liberation. Instead it suggests that the best way forward lies in painful acknowledgment, sincere regret, and meaningful accountability. The film avoids happy endings or easy answers, and raises more questions about forgiveness than it answers. But some of the easy answers that it rejects are worth noting. If forgiveness is to mean something significant and have integrity in cases of serious wrongdoing, it cannot evade issues of responsibility and acknowledgment of guilt. Forgiveness is not about denial or amnesia, or misplaced optimism. It involves facing up to the wrongdoing in the reality of its ugliness and brutality. For the family, the encounters with Coetzee are difficult and disturbing, but they eventually help to bring about new insights into their relationships with Daniel and their own damaged relationships with each other. By the end of the film the family are taking steps to embrace their lives in new ways. The ending leaves open the extent to which the Grootboom family come to “forgive” Coetzee. None of them ever say that they do. Nonetheless, it suggests that the encounters in Paternoster have been transformative and healing for both Coetzee and the family. NOTES 1. The public outcry which had followed Steve Biko’s death in 1977 prompted the Eastern Cape police to take more care to cover their tracks when there was a death in custody. Killing activists in secret and disposing of the bodies made it easier to deny involvement in their disappearance.

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2. In December 1996, Nieuwoudt also submitted an amnesty application in the Steve Biko case. This application was turned down. 3. In some of the TRC documents his surname is spelled “Niewoudt.” As with other amnesty applicants, Nieuwoudt had a more senior rank in the 1990s than he had when committing the acts for which they sought amnesty. In the cases which follow, he and others are sometimes identified by the rank that they held at the time rather than the rank they held when making their applications. 4. Nieuwoudt applied to the TRC for amnesty in five separate cases and was featured a number of times in the TRC Special Report, which was a weekly round-up on national television of the key TRC-related events from the preceding week. The TRC Special Report is now available online at http://sabctrc.saha.org.za 5. The documentary was initially titled Where the Truth Lies (1999), and this was later expanded into a longer version under the title Between Joyce and Remembrance (2004, directed by Mark J. Kaplan; Grey Matter Media Production, 2004; US release 2005); 68 minutes. Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu had been born three months before his father disappeared and his name means “Remembrance,” hence the name of the 2004 version of the documentary. 6. Forgiveness. Dir. Ian Gabriel, 2004. Produced by Giant Films and Dv8; distributed by California Newsreel. 7. Other details from the interrogation and torture of Siphiwo Mthimkhulu by Nieuwoudt are echoed in the interrogation and torture of Daniel Grootboom that Coetzee retells in the film. Whilst some of these similarities may be generic or “standard operating procedure” for a police interrogator, other details, such as Nieuwoudt’s use of a hose-pipe to beat Mthimkhulu, are more suggestive of a specific reference to Nieuwoudt. 8. There is no line at the beginning, or end, which notes “This film is based on actual events.” 9. Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act 34 of 1995. Assented to 19 July 1995; Date of Commencement 1 December 1995. Available at http:// www.justice.gov.za/legislation/acts/1995-034.pdf 10. There is a very extensive literature on the South African TRC, for example: Kader Asmal, Louise Asmal, and Ronald Suresh Roberts, Reconciliation Through Truth: A Reckoning of Apartheid’s Criminal Governance (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2nd ed. 1997 [1996]); Alex A. Boraine, Country Unmasked: Inside South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000); Antjie Krog, Country of My Skull (Johannesburg: Random House, 1998; New York: Times Books, 1999); Piet Meiring, Chronicle of the Truth Commission: A Journey Through the Past and Present: Into the Future of South Africa (Vanderbijlpark: Carpe Diem, 1999); Charles Villa-Vicencio and Wilhelm Verwoerd, eds., Looking Back and Reaching Forward: Reflections on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa (Cape Town: University of Cape Town Press; London: Zed Books, 2000). For works that address the theological dimension, see especially Russel Botman and Robin M. Petersen, eds., To Remember and to Heal: Theological and Psychological Reflections on Truth and Reconciliation (Cape Town: Human & Rousseau, 1996); Tinyiko Maluleke, “Truth, National Unity and Reconciliation in South Africa: Aspects of the Emerging Theological Agenda,” Missionalia 25.1 (April 1997), 59–86; Tinyiko Maluleke, “‘Dealing Lightly With the Wound of My People?’ The TRC Process in Theological Perspective,” Missionalia 25.3 (November 1997), 324–43. 11. For his own autobiographical account of the experience, see especially Desmond Tutu, “Foreword by Chairperson,” in Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa (TRCSA), Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa Report, vol. 1 (Cape Town: Juta and Co, 1998; London: Macmillan, 1999), 1–23. Desmond Tutu, No Future without Forgiveness (New York: Doubleday; London: Rider, 1999). 12. See Tinyiko Maluleke, “Desmond Tutu's Earliest Notions and Visions of Church, Humanity, and Society,” Ecumenical Review 67.4 (2015), 572–590; Michael Battle, Reconciliation: The Ubuntu Theology of Desmond Tutu (Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim Press, 1997).

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13. Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, A Human Being Died That Night: A South African Story of Forgiveness (Claremont, SA: David Philip, 2003); Russell Daye, Political Forgiveness: Lessons from South Africa (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2004); Megan Shore, Religion and Conflict Resolution: Christianity and South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2009). 14. The feature documentary 1994: The Bloody Miracle (2014) examines how the “Mandela miracle” might have been sabotaged and the levels of bloodshed which would have likely ensued. The film was co-directed by Bert Haitsma and Meg Rickards and produced by Boondoogle Films. 15. Wilhelm J. Verwoerd, Equity, Mercy, Forgiveness: Interpreting Amnesty within the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (Leuven; Dudley, MA: Peeters, 2007). 16. On the Christian notion of reconciliation, see John de Gruchy, Reconciliation: Restoring Justice (London: SCM Press, 2002); David Tombs, “A Public Theology of Reconciliation” in Sebastian Kim and Katie Day, eds., Companion to Public Theology (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2017), 119–49. 17. Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 218. 18. Siphiwo Mthimkhulu was born 23 March 1960 and was 21 years old when detained in 1981 and had recently turned 22 when he disappeared in April 1982. 19. Joyce N. Mthimkhulu testimony at Human Rights Violations Hearing at Port Elizabeth (26 June 1996), transcript available online at http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/ originals/hrvtrans/hrvpe2/mtimkhul.htm See also SABC Truth Commission Special Report 8 (30 June 1996) http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/tvseries/episode8.htm. 20. Earlier that day, Madaka had collected Mthimkhulu and taken him to the Livingstone hospital for a medical appointment. After the appointment, Mthimkhulu met some of his COSAS comrades, and Madaka rejoined him later. Later that night both Mthimkhulu and Madaka disappeared. 21. TRC, Vol. 1, Ch. 7 paras 26–49 (pp. 180–85). Van Rensburg had taken command over Vlakplaas in 1989. He succeeded Eugene De Kock, who in turn had succeeded Coetzee. Joyce Mthimkhulu says she read this in the newspapers, in about February 1990; HRV transcript para 27. 22. To prevent being named, Brigadier Du Preez and Major General Van Rensburg obtained a last-minute legal ruling. This set a crucial precedent for TRC hearings, because it prevented testimony at TRC hearings from naming the accused, unless the accused had been given prior notification and sufficient warning. Nieuwoudt, who was on trial for another case at the time, brought a separate legal action for a similar purpose, and obtained a similar ruling; TRC, Vol. 1, Ch. 7 paras 59–64 (pp. 186–88). See also TRC Final Report, Vol. 5, Ch. 1, para 27 (p. 7). 23. The TRC undertook to give at least 21 days’ notice to those whom a testimony intended to name. 24. The hearing also heard testimony from: Mbuyiselo Madaka (Topsy Madaka’s father); fellow activists who knew Mthimkhulu and Madaka; and Joe Mamasela, who was a prominent “askari” (police collaborator) who had worked with a police death squad at Vlakplaas. 25. See TRC Special Report Episode 8 Part 2 at http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/tvseries/ episode8.htm. A full transcript is available at http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/originals/ hrvtrans/hrvpe2/mtimkhul.htm. Antjie Krog subsequently chose a photo of Joyce Mthimkhulu holding her son’s hair as the front-cover for her widely read book on the TRC; Antjie Krog, Country of My Skull (Cape Town and New York: Random House, 1998; London: Jonathan Cape, 1999). Krog was a well-known Afrikaans poet and writer, and was covering the TRC on radio for the South African Broadcasting Company, under the name Antjie Samuel. 26. Paragraph 16 of Mthimkhulu testimony at Human Rights Violations Hearing at Port Elizabeth (26 June 1996), transcript available online at http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/ originals/hrvtrans/hrvpe2/mtimkhul.htm. See also SABC Truth Commission Special Report 8 (30 June 1996) http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/tvseries/episode8.htm at 2:20 mins.

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27. The transcript suggests that Dumisa Ntsebeza, who was leading her through the testimony process, was either surprised at Nieuwoudt’s name, or wished to be absolutely certain that there was no mistake. He asked if it was the same Nieuwoudt as had been tried in court recently and sentenced for murder. She insisted that it was, and that Nieuwoudt had worked in partnership with a more senior colleague called Roelofse. Monde Mditshwa testified that Nieuwoudt was a sergeant at the time, and Roelofse a lieutenant. 28. Transcript paragraph 28 (taken from affidavit). See also Kaplan at 14:06–14:24. Time references to the Kaplan documentary in what follows are given in minutes and seconds (separated by a colon). 29. Kaplan at 13:58–14:05. 30. Joyce describes her son’s activities as “a second poison.” Presumably this was how she thought of his politics in 1982 before she and her husband became more politicized by his death. She later explained in her testimony that at the time she was not yet politicized, and did not understand why he was involved. 31. HRV Transcript paragraph 31. 32. HRV Transcript paragraph 28. 33. TRC Special Report Episode 8 Part 2. 34. Kaplan had been arrested in Cape Town 1981 because of films he was making, and because he was offering training to communities in video-making. This was about the same time that Mthimkhulu was arrested in Port Elizabeth, and the same legislation was used to detain both of them (Section 6 of the Terrorism Act). After Kaplan’s release without charges, he read about Mthimkhulu’s poisoning, and was amazed that Mthimkhulu intended to sue the police. Kaplan was deported to Zimbabwe in August 1982 but Mthimkhulu’s courage made a big impression on him, and he had retained an interest in the case. Kaplan’s deportation interrupted the Master’s degree he had recently started at the University of Cape Town, but he continued his community filmmaking work in Zimbabwe. He subsequently studied film-making at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and returned to South Africa in the 1990s. 35. TRC Special Report Episode 8 Part 2. The HRV hearing took place less than two weeks after Nieuwoudt’s conviction in the Motherwell Four case, and before Nieuwoudt had made his amnesty application. 36. Kaplan at 21:11. 37. Amnesty ruling AC/2000/034 (2000) case 3920/96, http://www.justice.gov.za/trc/ decisions/2000/ac200034.htm. The other officers were: Nicolaas van Rensburg; Hermanus Du Plessis; and Gerrit Erasmus. 38. This was the original deadline, but it was subsequently extended. 39. The same place was used for the killing of the Cradock Three, which Nieuwoudt had also been involved in. He had also applied for amnesty in this case but it was denied. 40. Kaplan at 32:47–33:10. 41. Kaplan at 42:12–38. The documentary shows Nieuwoudt holding a Bible as he says this. Nieuwoudt had avoided extended time in prison for the Motherwell Four killings, and during his relatively brief imprisonment he claimed to have a religious conversion, which he said motivated him to meet in person with the family. 42. Kaplan at 43:32–44:02. Nieuwoudt has previously told Kaplan that he cannot really be blamed for trying to defend his country and its elected government from subversive violence. Kaplan says he saw “no sign of remorse” in Nieuwoudt; Kaplan at 43:46. 43. Kaplan at 16:39. Near the beginning of the film, Joyce Mthimkhulu says: “I have got no idea of what reconciliation is [pause] I need a teacher”; Kaplan at 0:37. 44. Kaplan at 39:25. When asked about this Nieuwoudt protests his innocence and claims she must have misunderstood. Nieuwoudt tells Kaplan: “I just want to set the record straight here. I had a rash from shaving and I had a bandage around it to cover it, and I had a black polo neck shirt on with a white jacket so it is true it could give that interpretation.” Kaplan at 39:55.

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45. Aluta and Sikhumbuzo were Siphiwo Mthimkhulu’s children by different partners. 46. Kaplan at 44:15–40. 47. Kaplan at 44:41–45:09. 48. Whilst it is possible that this might reflect how the documentary was made and the way scenes were selected and edited, Nieuwoudt’s dismissive attitude seems quite in keeping with his attitude to the TRC and in very marked contrast to Coetzee’s attitude to the meetings with the Grootbooms. At other points in the documentary Nieuwoudt boasts of his notoriety in special branch and his sense of pride as “cream of the crop” (Kaplan at 13:40). 49. Kaplan at 45:10–28. 50. Kaplan at 46:30. 51. Kaplan at 48:35–49:05. When asked who eliminated him Nieuwoudt says it was Van Rensburg. When pressed he accepts that it is true that they were in the same mission and he was an accomplice and Nieuwoudt admits that he shot Madaka. 52. Kaplan at 49:26. Nieuwoudt’s first language is Afrikaans so it may be unfair to judge him too harshly on the nuances of his English. Nonetheless, the term “you people” suggests a very insensitive and depersonalized awareness of who he is speaking with and the personal wrong that he has done to them. 53. Kaplan at 50:45. 54. Kaplan at 50:55. 55. Kaplan at 51:10. Before the meeting she asked Kaplan: “why does he want now to come and apologize? What was Nieuwoudt doing before all these years even before the TRC”; Kaplan at 42:00–11. 56. Kaplan at 52:55. 57. Kaplan at 53:06. 58. Kaplan at 53:53. 59. Amnesty ruling AC/2000/034 (2000) case 3820/96. 60. In 1996 Nieuwoudt had been prosecuted in the 1989 Motherwell Four case, and had been convicted on 14 June 1996, along with two colleagues. He was sentenced to twenty years but given leave to appeal the Motherwell Four sentence to a higher court and given bail. If his application to the TRC for amnesty in the Motherwell Four case had been successful, it would have voided the prison sentence. However, the amnesty committee denied his Motherwell Four amnesty application in 2000. Undeterred, Nieuwoudt appealed against the amnesty decision, and in 2001 the Cape High Court ordered a new hearing. Nieuwoudt was eventually re-arrested for the killings in February 2004, but was again released on bail and re-applied for amnesty. An amnesty panel was convened in 2004 to review the case. Before they could reach a decision Nieuwoudt died of cancer in August 2005, a few months before the decision to deny his amnesty was upheld. See Francis Herd, “No Reprieve for Gideon Nieuwoudt,” Mail & Guardian (1 July 2005). 61. The ages of Sannie and Ernest are not given, but Sannie appears to be about 16–20 and Ernest a few years younger. Under the apartheid system of racial categorization, the Grootboom family would be classified as colored rather than black. 62. Sannie says that they are only meeting him because Father Dalton has suggested to them that Tertius might otherwise make life difficult for them. Ernest has worked out in an exercise book what he thinks Daniel would have earned as an engineer and says that he doubts Tertius has enough to pay. When Tertius says he knows how Ernest feels, Ernest throws the exercise book at him. 63. When Sannie eventually tells Ernest that Daniel’s friends are coming she says that they plan to kill him. 64. The version in Luke is shorter than the more widely used version in Matthew, but both versions include the lines of forgiveness. 65. Other references include the St Christopher hanging from the mirror in the car Tertius drives. This is the first image to come into focus in the film. Likewise, Magda wears a cross necklace, and the graves in the cemetery are marked with crosses.

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66. Nieuwoudt used lengths of hose pipe to beat suspects during interrogation. 67. Later it is revealed that Hendrik blames himself for Daniel going to university. If he had not gone to university he would not have become involved in politics and drawn into the struggle. Hendrik’s sense of regret and self-blame has never been spoken of within the family, or shared with Sannie and Ernest. Each member of the family is struggling with unresolved feelings in different ways. Magda has barely ventured outside of the house since Daniel died. She is shown as retreating into a fantasy world of daytime TV soap operas. Ernest is angry that Daniel seemed to be treated as his parents’ favorite son and the family’s hopes were so invested in him. Sannie has her own life on hold as she stays at home with her parents. 68. Details include similarities with Nieuwoudt’s treatment of detainees in other cases revealed to the TRC: taking them to an isolated farm; taking turns at the beating and torture; having a braai (barbecue) and drinking during the interrogation. 69. Sannie sits behind Tertius in the car and helps to wipe his head. The injury seems to humanize Tertius in her eyes, and there is a suggestion that for the first time she is having doubts about inviting Daniel’s friends to come and settle the score. 70. During the hearing at the Human Rights Violation Joyce Mthhimkhulu explains that she felt that activism was a bad influence on her son. She saw it as dangerous and wanted him to avoid it. Hendrik’s opposition to Daniel’s activism (mentioned above) echoes this parental fear. 71. The power station, just outside Cape Town, was attacked in December 1982 whilst it was still being built and non-operational. 72. Presumably there is no special significance to Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu’s choice of instrument. He used the vase simply because it was available and to hand. Nonetheless, his use of such an everyday household article to strike back at Nieuwoudt highlights the asymmetry in the resources and weapons to which Nieuwoudt and he had access. Although the violence is directed against Nieuwoudt in this instance, it is Nieuwoudt who had much greater access to instruments of violence in his work. Furthermore, Nieuwoudt is still in a position of privilege and power relative to Sikhumbuzo Mthimkhulu. 73. Kaplan at 48:13 and 54:18. Kaplan fears that Sikhumbuzo will pay a high price for his outburst and these concerns seem to be justified. When Sikhumbuzo’s head teacher read of the incident in the newspaper he expelled him from the school. 74. There is, of course, a wider audience in terms of those who subsequently view the film, Forgiveness, but this is beside the point. By contrast, in contributing to the documentary, Nieuwoudt would have known that a wider audience was an integral part of the filming process.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Amnesty ruling AC/2000/034 (2000) case 3920/96, http://www.justice.gov.za/trc/ decisions/2000/ac200034.htm Asmal, Kader, Louise Asma, and Ronald Suresh Roberts. Reconciliation Through Truth: A Reckoning of Apartheid’s Criminal Governance. 2nd ed. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997. Battle, Michael. Reconciliation: The Ubuntu Theology of Desmond Tutu. Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim Press, 1997. Boraine, Alex A. Country Unmasked: Inside South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Botman, Russel, and Robin M. Petersen, eds. To Remember and to Heal: Theological and Psychological Reflections on Truth and Reconciliation. Cape Town: Human & Rousseau, 1996. Daye, Russell. Political Forgiveness: Lessons from South Africa. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2004. de Gruchy, John. Reconciliation: Restoring Justice. London: SCM Press, 2002.

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Gobodo-Madikizela, Pumla. A Human Being Died That Night: A South African Story of Forgiveness. Claremont, SA: David Philip, 2003. Herd, Francis. “No Reprieve for Gideon Nieuwoudt,” Mail & Guardian (1 July 2005). Krog, Antjie. Country of My Skull. Johannesburg: Random House, 1998; New York: Times Books, 1999. Maluleke, Tinyiko “‘Dealing Lightly With the Wound of My People?’ The TRC Process in Theological Perspective.” Missionalia 25.3 (1997), 324–43. ———. “Truth, National Unity and Reconciliation in South Africa: Aspects of the Emerging Theological Agenda.” Missionalia 25.1 (1997), 59–86. ———. “Desmond Tutu's Earliest Notions and Visions of Church, Humanity, and Society.” Ecumenical Review 67.4 (2015), 572–90. Meiring, Piet. Chronicle of the Truth Commission: A Journey Through the Past and Present: Into the Future of South Africa. Vanderbijlpark: Carpe Diem, 1999. Mthimkhulu, Joyce N. Testimony at Human Rights Violations Hearing at Port Elizabeth (26 June 1996), transcript available online at http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/ originals/hrvtrans/hrvpe2/mtimkhul.htm Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act 34 of 1995. Assented to 19 July 1995; Date of Commencement 1 December 1995. Available at http://www.justice. gov.za/legislation/acts/1995-034.pdf “SABC Truth Commission Special Report Episode 8,” http://sabctrc.saha.org.za/ tvseries/episode8.htm “SABC Truth Commission Special Report,” http://sabctrc.saha.org.za Shore, Megan. Religion and Conflict Resolution: Christianity and South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2009. Tombs, David. “A Public Theology of Reconciliation.” Pages 119–49 in Companion to Public Theology. Edited by Sebastian Kim and Katie Day. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2017. TRC, Vol. 1, Ch. 7, paras 26–49 (pp. 180–85). TRC Final Report, Vol. 5, Ch. 1, para 27 (p. 7). Tutu, Desmond. “Foreword by Chairperson.” Pages 1–23 in Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa (TRCSA), Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa Report. Vol. 1. Cape Town: Juta and Co, 1998; London: Macmillan, 1999. ———. No Future without Forgiveness. New York: Doubleday; London: Rider, 1999. Verwoerd, Wilhelm J. Equity, Mercy, Forgiveness: Interpreting Amnesty within the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Leuven; Dudley, MA: Peeters, 2007. Villa-Vicencio, Charles, and Wilhelm Verwoerd, eds. Looking Back and Reaching Forward: Reflections on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa. Cape Town: University of Cape Town Press; London: Zed Books, 2000.

THIRTEEN Sharing the Meal of Forgiveness Eucharist, Communal Boundaries, and the Dispute over Homosexual Practice Dale Campbell

This chapter will attempt to weave together several liturgical, ecclesial, and ethical threads under this volume’s focus on forgiveness. 1 An initial section will frame the Eucharist as a meal that is focused on divine, self, and interpersonal forgiveness. This will be followed by a discussion of the boundaries of any community that shares this meal, and approaches to the question of who is welcome at the Lord’s Table, advocating for a practice that aims to accomplish both hospitality and holiness. The final sections will engage with the reality of ongoing disputes within any community, and in particular the painful dispute over homo-erotic behavior, 2 finishing with an exploration of possible steps forward, using Paul’s words in Philippians 2:2–4 as a framework. FORGIVENESS AT THE TABLE The Eucharist is about forgiveness. The words of Christ are scarcely more red-letter than in Matthew’s account of the Last Supper, when he instituted the Lord’s Supper, blessing the crimson Cup of the New Covenant, which he declared to be “for the forgiveness of sins” (Matt 26:28). These words alone make the Eucharist the “Meal of Forgiveness.” Culminating both the Passover and the Day of Atonement, this Meal commemorates the Atonement of Christ, the Agnus Dei, as declared by John the Baptist (John 1:29) and enshrined in the Eucharistic prayer recited or sung by 205

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countless disciples over the centuries: “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world.” Forgiveness is about sin, and the Atonement provided for it in Jesus Christ, making him the Person of Forgiveness who gave us the Eucharist, the Meal of Forgiveness. Three dimensions of forgiveness at this meal can be seen in Paul’s instruction in 1 Corinthians 11:17–34: vertical (divine forgiveness), individual (self-forgiveness), and communal (interpersonal forgiveness). Vertically, rather than eating in honor of a high-status human guest or host, they are to eat in remembrance of Jesus, the divine and human agent of forgiveness, and the holy Host of the forgiveness meal. Individually, instead of commending themselves or judging others, they are to practice humble self-examination, appreciating and allowing themselves to claim again their forgiven status. And communally, in place of their divided and dividing eating habits, in terms of seating arrangements, the quality and quantity of food, and possibly the timing of eating, they are to practice the hospitable welcome of others as equal sharers at the table of forgiveness. The interrelatedness of divine and human forgiveness is especially significant for us. Christ’s “model prayer” (Luke 11:2–4; cf. Matt 6:9–13) places on our lips the words “forgive us our sins, as we also forgive everyone who sins against us.” In Matthew’s version, this is immediately followed by the admonition that divine forgiveness is effectually linked with interpersonal forgiveness (Matt 6:12–15). Forgiveness, it seems, can only be received if it is also given away. When individuals find their sins forgiven by God, they are enabled to forgive themselves, and thus freed to forgive others freely. A beautifully appropriate liturgical application of this is this declaration of absolution from the Anglican prayer book of Aotearoa, New Zealand: “God forgives you. Forgive Others. Forgive Yourself.” 3 This is a forgiveness meal meant to be shared. More than that, it is to be shared by communities that are unified in spite of very real and often difficult diversity, which witnesses to the one atoning act of forgiveness celebrated by the one forgiven body with many forgiven members. The desire for this kind of mutual and equal sharing of this “Meal of Forgiveness” is clearly heard in this communion hymn by A. P. Stanley: Years have passed: in every clime, Changing with the changing time, Varying through a thousand forms, Torn by factions, rocked by storms, Still the sacred table spread, Flowing cup and broken bread, With that parting word agree, “Drink and eat; remember Me.” 4

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Sharing the meal as one has hardly been the only concern in the centuries that have passed. Diverse theological and other differences have long divided the oneness of the meal. Indeed, the tearing factions and rocking storms may themselves be, for better or for worse, the result of attempts to keep the table sacred. Just as admission to the ancient Jewish Passover meal required “foreigners” to be circumcised in order to partake (Exod 12:43–49), so also the Didache reflects very early concern among Christians to protect the Eucharist from being profaned: “But let no one eat or drink of your Eucharist, unless they have been baptized into the name of the Lord; for concerning this also the Lord has said, ‘Give not that which is holy to the dogs.’” 5 The holy meal must not be diluted by unbelievers, the unbaptized, or the unholy. Within this apparently inevitable tension between the unity and purity of Christian celebrations of the Eucharist, we now turn to explore the range of approaches that have been taken as churches have wrestled with this tension. BOUNDARIES AT THE TABLE In his important volume, Embodying Forgiveness, L. Gregory Jones seeks to navigate wisely between extreme ways of enacting church discipline or what he calls “reconciling forgiveness.” 6 It will be an inevitable process in any community. Each local gathering of believers, like all visibly identifiable communities, will have values and goals, and therefore also boundaries that can be transgressed, which, Jones argues, should lead to various forms of loving discipline to preserve and enhance the life and health of the community. All local church communities will have implicitly or explicitly shared understandings of various beliefs, attitudes, or behaviors that are seen to be “sinful” and thus seen to bring some degree of harm to the shared life of the community. Accordingly, Jones describes “reconciling forgiveness” as a process that requires “prophetic criticism of all those situations and lives where communion is undermined.” 7 If the Church, the forgiven and forgiving community, is most truly and visibly itself when gathered around the “Meal of Forgiveness,” so too its general disciplinary posture is most publicly on display in its disciplinary posture towards this meal. Throughout church history, various postures of discipline at the table have been influenced in many ways by varying understandings of the boundaries of divine presence at the meal (present or absent), the boundaries of individual fittingness for participation in the meal (unworthy or worthy), and the boundaries of communal extension of the meal (closed or open). For many centuries of church history, the Thomistic doctrine of Transubstantiation, emphasizing the holy and terrifying Presence of Christ in the “Most Holy Eucharist” engendered a vision of the Eucharist as a miraculous meal for people attaining to a seemingly miraculous

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standard of holiness, and certainly not for impure sinners. Such was the reverence for the Blessed Sacrament that at times participation had to be motivated by Church law. The holiness of the meal was focused on the consecrated Bread and Cup, which demanded not only a paten and chalice made from precious and pure metals (gold or silver), but also holy and pure communicants. The “memorialism” of Swiss reformer Huldrych Zwingli focused the meal’s holiness away from what he saw as “magical” and irrational Catholic beliefs concerning the transformation of their “substance.” The communicants were the only remaining place for the holiness of the Eucharist to be seen, thus requiring them to be both rational enough to reject superstitious Catholic notions, and holy enough to take part. The result was a symbolic meal for a holy church, not for those who were “in sin.” John Wesley, however was able to maintain an appreciation of the Real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament, but also staunchly advocated for what he called “constant communion,” insisting on Eucharistic participation even for those who felt unworthy. For Wesley, both the Lord and the supper were indeed holy, not because of the worthiness of the participants, but because of the power of the supper to draw each one closer to holiness. Here we can already see something of a spectrum of table postures emerging: from “open” (with few if any conditions) at one end, “closed” (with many conditions), and the middle ground between them, which we might call “holy hospitality.” This spectrum might be outlined as in table 13.1. On the one hand is the “closed table” practice, which (in different ways in different ecclesial contexts) excludes the “sinful” from the holy table. Whether they lack visible faith in Christ, visible holiness in their manner of life, or some other factor, they are seen to be not in “good standing” with the Church, and thus also seen to be not in good standing with Christ, the head of the Church; and to be not in good standing with Christ is to be not welcome at Christ’s table. This posture draws its support from a concern to heed Paul’s instructions, both not to eat with sinful people (1 Cor 5:5, 11) and to avoid eating unworthily (1 Cor 11:27, 29). Donald Bloesch describes it as the need to withhold the bread and cup from those who continue “in the practice of some mortal sin,” thus showTable 13.1.

Specturm of Table Postures Open Table

“Holy Hospitality”

Closed Table

Central Feature

welcome

transformation

purity

Imagined Recipients

sinners

sinners and saints

saints

Status of Participants

unworthy

being made worthy

worthy

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ing their faith to be “inauthentic” until they “repent and believe anew.” 8 Here purity takes priority over unity. The holy meal would be corrupted by the inclusion of sinners. In addition to the problem of serious, ongoing or recent sin, a further reason for the “closed table” practice of some churches is difference in theological and Eucharistic understanding. For example, Protestants attending Catholic Mass may well feel themselves included when the liturgy proclaims the scriptural words of invitation from Revelation 19:9, “Blessed are those called to the Supper of the Lamb,” but however invited they feel, they will be unable to receive. 9 In its best form, this practice retains a healthy appreciation of both the healing nature of confession (whether to a priest or to one another), and the damaging effects of sin, particularly upon the consciences of those who could be caused to stumble. In its worst form, the Church and its message becomes less and less a vehicle of saving and transforming Grace, and increasingly a symbol of rigid ethical (or ecclesial) standards which must be maintained to have “authentic” faith. On the other hand is the “open table.” All who wish to participate are invited. All possible barriers to participation in the meal are removed, whether barriers of age, recent or ongoing sin, and even the presence of faith up to the point of partaking. Communities that have an “open table” hope and believe that Christ generously accepts at his table those with even the smallest portions of faith and repentance. This posture draws support from Isaiah’s generous invitation (echoed in Revelation) to all who are thirsty to come and freely eat and drink (Isa 55:1–2; cf. Rev 22:17), Paul’s insistence upon the radical welcome of one another as one people (Rom 15:7; 1 Cor 11:33), and the custom of Jesus dining with sinners (Luke 5:30). “Drink from it, all of you” says Jesus over the cup, to a group of disciples that included, among others, doubting Thomas and betraying Judas (Matt 26:27). Many of this view, like Scot McKnight, would hold that the Eucharist is not a meal so much in need of protection as it is a meal in need of missional extension. Come, we say, and see. Come and taste. Come find grace. If a person seeks for grace, this is where we want them to come. Why do we fling wide the doors? Because the Eucharist is a meal that offers atonement—with God, self, others, and the world. 10

Here the hospitable pursuit of unity takes priority over the holy protection of purity. Both a “religious” requirement for unattainable holiness and a sectarian requirement for uniform theology have no place concerning the Eucharist, and they are seen to be in direct contradiction to the shocking welcome of Christ. In its best form, this practice witnesses to the free hospitality of God to even the most broken, addicted, and weak members—even would-be members—of the family, and counters any sense that humans must—or indeed can—clean themselves up enough to satisfy God. Also, it witnesses to the crumbling of walls of denomination-

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al division in the one Body of Christ. However, in its worst form, the grace that is intended to be on display is cheapened, and the costliness of sin all but forgotten. This can especially be the case when celebrations are sloppy, ad hoc, lazy, or casual, with introductions such as the one a friend recently reported: “Oh yeah . . . there’s communion in the back . . . so if you want some . . . go grab it as we worship.” This kind of easy, convenient, and under-planned practice lacks any invitation to either privately or publicly confess sin, let alone any sense of connection to the wider Body of Christ. At all points between these extremes, attempting to hold in tension the best of both, are various expressions of a posture that might be called “holy hospitality,” where the boundary of the community is well and truly perforated. If the Holy Table of the Lord is “fenced,” its gate could not be more open (cf. John 10:7–9). Both the table and its host are holy, but through Christ theirs is a holiness that nonetheless makes holy the unholy by means of the nourishment provided through the forgiveness meal. This posture draws support from John Wesley’s famous description of the Eucharist as a “converting ordinance,” full of potential, both to refresh the lagging faith of straying disciples, and to draw unbelievers to faith, as was the case with Wesley’s own mother. 11 Baptist theologian Stanley Grenz similarly describes the way the holy meal both feeds and challenges believers. Through the repeated symbolic reminder of the good news of forgiveness in Christ, the Holy Spirit refreshes us in the midst of our failure and sin. At the same time, through our eating and drinking, the Spirit reminds us of Christ’s power available each day and thereby encourages us to appropriate that divine resource. 12

Another Baptist voice, James McClendon Jr. writes that we must navigate between the extreme of treating the eucharist (or mass) as if it were in itself sin’s objective remedy, and the extreme of demanding of those who approach the table a purity of heart and intention that is likely best found in the dull of spirit. Neither a talisman nor a trial by ordeal, the Lord’s table is a memorial of Christ who took sinners into his fellowship, but whose touch transformed them each and all. 13

This focus on transformation is seen within the Catholic church, in spite of its “closed table” practice. In his first apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”), Pope Francis criticizes the (Catholic) Church for frequently acting as “arbiters of grace rather than its facilitators,” and describes the Eucharist as “not a prize for the perfect but a powerful medicine and nourishment for the weak.” 14 Here neither purity nor unity takes precedence over the other, but rather the tension between them creates a space where the pilgrim participants are both drawn toward one another and drawn toward their holy and forgiving

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Lord. An extended quote from Scot McKnight’s recent book, A Fellowship of Differents, is a fitting summary: Jesus did not require someone to be kosher to eat at table with him. In fact, he created table fellowship for all sorts in that first fellowship of differents. If some said, you must be kosher to eat with us, Jesus said, eat with me and I will make you kosher. Furthermore, he expected those at the table to grow into holiness and love, but that came through fellowship. So too with the apostle Paul, whose house churches were filled with sinners in need of grace, which they found at the table that led them to Jesus. 15

This dynamic will be a matter not only of the policy of the table, but also the practice at the table. A reverent manner, careful wording, and a generous spirit in Eucharistic celebration will ensure both the hospitality of Christ’s holy table, and the holiness of his hospitable welcome. The total result must foster a palpable awareness of both the tragedy of sin and the triumph of grace. Again, to this end, an arresting confession of sin, paired with a liberating absolution of guilt in Christ, remain the most appropriate ways to achieve this. This vision of “holy hospitality” may be straightforward when a community or denomination has a relative consensus of what actions are sinful. But what happens when what is sinful is not a matter of shared understanding, but vigorous dispute? DISPUTE AT THE TABLE From the first to the twenty-first century, Christian communities have had ethical disputes about all kinds of behaviors, ranging from eating idol meat and head-coverings to consumption of alcohol and when entertainment takes forms that become inappropriate. One of the most pressing and painful current disputes is that over homo-erotic acts (and along with it same-sex marriage). There is no shortage of biblical, doctrinal, and pastoral perspectives on this dispute, and as Christopher Craig Brittain observes, such lines of inquiry have failed to “achieve consensus” or prevent the possibility of “serious institutional fragmentation.” 16 Commenting on this fragmentation, Fowl and Jones lament that all too often “Christian communities have responded to issues of homosexuality and the role of homosexuals in the Church by making these fellow believers into outsiders.” 17 Tragically, continued division seems certain; resulting in ongoing splintering of communities who feel unable to share the costly habits and disciplines of forgiveness, let alone share the meal of forgiveness. This painful reality of division in the present stands between the vision Jesus shared, on the one hand, of a fully shared and fully forgiven fellowship in the future, where east and west will “recline at the table with

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Abraham, Isaac and Jacob” (Matt 8:11) and, on the other hand, his institution of the meal “in remembrance” of his forgiving act in the past. Between the remembered past and the anticipated future is the experienced present, where the forgiveness that is both remembered and anticipated is to be freely given just as it is freely received. The central hindrance of this progress towards the goal and future of shared forgiveness and the forgiveness meal is the continuing presence of sin, and the struggle to acknowledge forgiveness in the “other” when they are suspected of ongoing participation with the flow of sin. 18 As we shall see below, there is great need for patient dialogue and willingness to express need of the voice of the other. Some small amount of guidance may help us avoid extremes. In the same way that “Holy Hospitality” above was something of a middle way between “open” and “closed” table posture, so also we may be able to identify two extremes to avoid in the arduous task of discerning a shared understanding of what actions are sinful, and what kinds of disciplinary actions may be taken or not. As Jones helpfully notes, communities “must guard against assuming either that all judgments are continually ‘up for grabs’ or that genuinely unsettled debates can be prematurely foreclosed through the deployment of discipline or coercion.” 19 At one extreme, discussions are “foreclosed” in either direction by those in power, such that anyone who desires more conversation, discussion, or debate feels silenced or ignored. At the other extreme, anything resembling conviction or consensus is met with resistance or suspicion. Difficult and painstaking as it may be, communities of forgiveness can strive to reach a point of confidence where it is appropriate to say, as at the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15), “it seems good to us and to the Holy Spirit.” In light of this ongoing process of discernment, we now turn to consider steps toward sharing the table, even when the dispute remains unfinished. TOGETHER AT THE TABLE? A personal experience may help us begin this section. With a high level of shared conviction, members of the church I belong to would hold a “conservative” stance towards homo-erotic practice. A number of years ago, my wife and I were seeking to support someone who was re-exploring their childhood Christian faith. Their recent experimentation (in their own words) with their sexuality meant that they felt very uncomfortable with “conservative” churches, and were instead planning on visiting a well-known church specifically for those in what is called the LGBTI (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex) or “rainbow” community. As a way of supporting this renewed interest in Christian things, we accompanied them to this service.

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The architecture was beautiful; the fellowship and greetings warm and genuine; the liturgical flow both structured and hearty (even if the sermon was, to my memory, a bit of a rant against “conservative” churches). The palpable and striking memory was of the Eucharist. Following a shared confession of sin, we were invited to feast on Christ’s body and blood, either as individuals or as couples. The person we accompanied did not hesitate to go forward, and we followed behind. I have to say that, for a “conservative,” it was a jarring experience for me. Each same-sex couple received a blessing as they received the Bread and Cup, giving it the feel of a mini-marriage ceremony. When it came time for my wife and me to partake, the person serving warmly smiled, shared the Bread and Cup, and prayed a blessing for us, just as they had for the other couples. To cap it all off, when it came time for us to leave the service, we discovered we had left our car lights on and our car would not start. With delightful warmth and humor, one of the leaders of the community rushed to help us jump-start our car. This profound experience of warm, authentic hospitality, both at and around the Eucharist, continues to remind me that those with whom I have significant disagreement are still my brothers and sisters in Christ, and exhibit the fruit of the Spirit in ways that continue to both encourage and challenge me. Can I share in the forgiveness meal with sisters and brothers who have differing convictions and practices concerning alcohol? Or what constitutes healthy entertainment? If so, then why can I not do the same in spite of “genuinely unsettled” differences over sexually related questions? We now will explore different steps forward for understanding and perhaps even reconciling the divide between communities—and tables— divided by this dispute. As a loose framework for these explorations, we will use Philippians 2:2–4, in a letter where Paul, among other things, urges Euodia and Syntyche, to end their disagreement (4:2). Whatever their dispute was about, it is a safe assumption that it was harming the community and was very likely to be affecting their Eucharistic gatherings. “Be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.” (v.2) The goal for any of these steps is nothing short of full oneness. We know from the rest of Scripture that the oneness that is desired is neither complete uniformity, nor division for just any reason, but instead an authentic unity expressed in the midst of diversity. An essential habit for both establishing and maintaining the diverse oneness Paul calls for is dialogue. Dialogue is the mutual exchange of different perspectives, which must be honestly conveyed; neither hidden nor beyond critique. Jones writes that we need the

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Dale Campbell charity that recognizes that we must struggle fully to understand the other’s speech and silence so that we do not dismiss fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, along with that firm centeredness in sound doctrine that orients all our feeling and acting, all our silence and speech, and all our suffering and living in relation to the creative and re-creative work of the God of Jesus Christ. 20

Fowl and Jones express their concern that Christians “seem unable to engage in the sort of multi-sided conversation needed to bring about faithful (albeit provisional) interpretations and performances of Scripture,” and instead advocate a conversation within the body of Christ in which there are no outsiders. To the extent that we have already made some members of the body outsiders, the body of Christ must engage in the offering and receiving of forgiveness and reconciliation. 21

Dialogue needs to create a space safe enough for both sides to express their sense of “what is at stake.” If most “traditional” communities feel that the witness of Spirit-enabled holiness is at stake, many “progressive” communities will be concerned that the witness of Spirit-blessed diversity is at stake. Both “sides” are trying in their own way, within increasingly secular contexts, to respond faithfully to the challenging reality of the swift and sharp rejection of traditional Christian teaching on homo-erotic behavior. 22 Discovering both the similarities and differences behind a mutual concern for witness will be at least one part of any journey toward oneness. As Célestin Musekura writes in Forgiving as We’ve Been Forgiven, co-written with Jones, “if the church is to be an instrument of . . . healing and reconciliation, we must first forge communities of forgiveness in tribal environments.” 23 “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.” (v.3) As we saw above, all communities necessarily have boundaries, but as Jones reminds us, “we need to be aware of the temptation to turn legitimate boundaries into human barriers, to quench the Spirit by reifying our confessional practices.” 24 Brittain highlights the need for “reflexivity,” or curving back upon oneself, perhaps especially for those with the authority or position to create or abolish boundaries in any given community. 25 Especially for such ongoing disputes, whatever boundaries of practice and discipline we arrive at, whatever boundaries are either established or abolished, it all must be done with the kind of humility that says, “we might be wrong,” which is the opposite of the (over-)confident posture Nancy Duff counters in her provocatively titled chapter, “How to Argue Moral Issues Surrounding Homosexuality When You Know You're Right.” 26 The following expression of intent from James Zahniser and

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Lisa Cagle is worth quoting at length, as it expresses well the humble posture of not only acknowledging the possibility of being wrong, but also a posture of actually needing the gifts and help of the “other”: You are our brothers and sisters in Christ, we love you unconditionally, and we welcome you into our churches, communities, and homes. We recognize that our understanding of the Bible is not complete . . . and we acknowledge that it is possible that the Holy Spirit is at work to transform our Christian ethic. . . . We need you to help us seek greater understanding, and we are willing to respect and to learn from your experience, as well as to examine our own sin and complicity in perpetuating homophobia and discrimination. Please forgive us for the ways in which we have failed you. Will you help us to learn how God works to bring about redemption and wholeness in the lives of people with homosexual desires and identities, and will you help us to learn better how to participate in such redemption? We hope that you will join us in a commitment to love one another and to follow Jesus, wherever he might lead. 27

There is a practice (too often neglected or unstructured in non-liturgical traditions) where this humility is nourished; namely confession of sin. As Bonhoeffer wrote, “In confession, the break-through to community takes place.” 28 How different the journey toward the table might be if all parties approached with the humility of a sure and certain sinner, whether right or not. One corporate confession of sin that expresses this humility with striking beauty and simplicity is found (once again) in the excellent Anglican Prayer Book of Aotearoa, New Zealand: We need your healing, merciful God: give us true repentance. Some sins are plain to us; some escape us some we cannot face. Forgive us; set us free to hear your word to us set us free to serve you. 29

The wording of this confession in particular is especially helpful within the context of the dispute over homosexuality. It is not only a possibility, but also an unavoidable reality that some sins “escape us,” as sincere believers come to different understandings of homo-erotic behavior, no matter how “plainly” some on both sides may see it. This confession makes space in the body of Christ for what there will be in any local community—namely diverse appreciations of specific sins. But these disputed sins are set alongside the ones both that are “plain to us” and those which are so painful that “we cannot face” them. Both the devastating and deceitful nature of sin is on full display in this confession of sin. Confessing sin in a way that is truly corporate, meaning a public and

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shared acknowledgment that the body of Christ (corpus Christi) consists of members who are still sinners, is an essential component of forgiveness. It assists in the work of reconciliation between different parts of the Body of Christ who both must walk toward the table through the narrow gate of humility. 30 John Colwell recently offered the following confession, hinting at our common vulnerabilities: I’ll tell you who I am. I am one (probably like you) who, unlike Peter, has denied Jesus far more than three times and who, unlike Judas, has betrayed him more than once for rather less than three pieces of silver. I am one (probably like you) whose most grievous sins have remained hidden but which remain real nonetheless. I am one (probably like you) who can only share bread and wine with a profound sense of shame, itself overwhelmed with thanksgiving for the gracious mercy that welcomes me when others, if they really know me, might shun me. 31

“Let each one of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” (v.4) We must search our hearts to see whether or not we actually want the best for the other. Hopefully the language of “enemy” is far from use in this in-house dispute, but to quote Jones again, “even if we see the other as an impenitent (or intolerant) ‘enemy,’ reconciliation requires of us the struggle to learn to wish them well even when we cannot be present to them.” 32 An alternative kind of sight or vision seems required in order to “look” out for the other as well as self. In his widely appreciated volume, Exclusion & Embrace, Miroslav Volf outlines what he calls “Double Vision,” seeing both “from here” and “from there”; which involves a) stepping outside ourselves, b) crossing a social boundary and moving into the world of the other, c) taking the other into our own world, d) repeating that process as needed, and e) acting before resolving a contradiction. 33 In some contexts, such “action before resolution” may be sharing the Eucharist while the dispute remains a live issue; perhaps especially at special inter-church or denominational gatherings or committees that meet to prayerfully engage the dispute. In other contexts, it may be more appropriate and authentic to meet for prayer or non-Eucharistic worship. Indeed, the second stage of Volf’s “Embrace” schema is the difficult, risky, and probably lonely task of “waiting” for the other to open their arms. Theologians have crafted the phrase “already but not yet” to express the tension between the present-tense reality of the kingdom of God now, and the future-tense hope for the fullness of the kingdom still to come. As two closing examples will illustrate, this tension will be present in this conversation as well. A friend recently told me of his plans to accompany his partner overseas for a family visit. His partner had already warned him that he “would not be welcome” at a particularly large family gathering. To

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bring his male partner would raise too many questions, be seen to bring too much shame upon the family, and would be “just too painful.” This is what “not yet” feels like. The final story is an example of “already.” The Gay Christian Network is comprised of both “side A” members, who take a “progressive” stance and would support same-sex relationships for gay couples, and “side B” members, who take a “conservative” stance and view homo-erotic acts as sinful, and thus advocate for abstinence for gay Christians. 34 The title of their 2015 annual conference was “Together at the Table,” and included a time of celebrating Holy Communion. These gay (and straight) brothers and sisters, members of the one, forgiven Body of Christ, put aside their very real, very personal, and very painful differences, even their sharply divergent ethical views, and shared the Meal of Forgiveness. May God give us the dual gifts of patience and holy discontent as we each individually and communally discern the way forward through repentance, humility, and yes, forgiveness, both of one another and ourselves. NOTES 1. Heartfelt gratitude to Dr. Phil Halstead for his consistent encouragement, Dr. Laurie Guy and Dr. David Crawley for their helpful and encouraging feedback on an early draft, and Ponsonby Baptist Church for being a supportive and embracing context for much personal growth during my pastoral training. 2. “Homo-erotic behavior” may be a more fitting “label” for the dispute than “homosexual practice.” 3. The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia, A New Zealand Prayer Book: He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa, rev. ed. (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1997), 731. 4. S. G. Green, ed., The Baptist Church Hymnal: Hymns, Chants, Anthems with Music (London: Psalms and Hymns Trust, 1900), 461. 5. Didache 9; quoted in Ruth A. Meyers, Missional Worship, Worshipful Mission: Gathering as God’s People, Going Out in God’s Name (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 170. 6. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 185. 7. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 165. 8. Donald G. Bloesch, The Church: Sacraments, Worship, Ministry, Mission (InterVarsity Press, 2005), 163. 9. See the Catholic Code of Canon Law 844 for carefully worded exceptions permitting (in certain specific situations) the participation of “members of Eastern Churches” or other churches “in the same condition in regard to the sacraments.” 10. Scot McKnight, A Community Called Atonement: Living Theology (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010), 154. 11. Leonard J. Vander Zee, Christ, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper: Recovering the Sacraments for Evangelical Worship (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004), 234. 12. Stanley J. Grenz, Theology for the Community of God (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994), 540. 13. James Wm McClendon Jr, Doctrine: Systematic Theology (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2011), 403 (emphasis original). 14. Pope Francis, “Evangelii Gaudium: Apostolic Exhortation on the Proclamation of the Gospel in Today’s World (24 November 2013) | Francis,” http://w2.vatican.va/

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content/francesco/en/apost_exhortations/documents/papa-francesco_esortazione-ap_ 20131124_evangelii-gaudium.html#_ftnref51, Ch. 1, V.47. 15. Scot McKnight, A Fellowship of Differents: Showing the World God’s Design for Life Together (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2015), 139. 16. Christopher Craig Brittain, “Ethnography as Ecclesial Attentiveness and Critical Reflexivity: Fieldwork and the Dispute over Homosexuality in the Episcopal Church,” in Explorations in Ecclesiology and Ethnography, ed. Christian Batalden Scharen (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 116. 17. Stephen E. Fowl and L. Gregory Jones, Reading In Communion: Scripture and Ethics in Christian Life (Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1998), 114. 18. Whether the sin be that of homo-erotic practice or being self-righteous and unloving in one’s judgment. 19. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 272. 20. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 196–97. 21. Fowl and Jones, Reading In Communion, 114. 22. See, for example, my local study where Church communication concerning “homosexuality” (along with “hell”) was the most highly disliked topic to non-religious New Zealanders. Dale Campbell, “Sin in Secular Ears: A Theo-Biblical & Sociological Exploration for Communicating the Doctrine of Sin in Aotearoa New Zealand,” Pacific Journal of Baptist Research 9, no. 2 (2014): 48–60. 23. L. Gregory Jones and Célestin Musekura, Forgiving As We’ve Been Forgiven: Community Practices for Making Peace (Grand Rapids, MI: InterVarsity Press, 2010), 111. 24. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 189. 25. Brittain, “Ethnography as Ecclesial Attentiveness and Critical Reflexivity.” 26. Nancy Duff, “How to Argue Moral Issues Surrounding Homosexuality When You Know You’re Right,” in Homosexuality and Christian Community, ed. Choon Leong Seow (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), 144–59. 27. Lisa Cagle and James H. Zahniser, “Homosexuality: Toward an Informed, Compassionate Response,” Christian Scholar’s Review 36, no. 3 (2007): 323–48. 28. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Christian Community (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1978), 112. 29. The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia, A New Zealand Prayer Book–He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa (1989: Online: http://anglicanprayerbook. nz), 730 (used with permission). 30. Geiko Müller-Fahrenholz, The Art of Forgiveness: Theological Reflections on Healing and Reconciliation (Geneva: WCC, 1997), 28; Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 184–85, 199. 31. John Colwell, “‘. . . With Mine On The Table’: Exclusion and the Faithful,” Mission Catalyst, no. 2 (2015): 13. 32. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 196. 33. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion & Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010), 250–53. 34. “The Gay Christian Network,” http://www.gaychristian.net

BIBLIOGRAPHY Bloesch, Donald G. The Church: Sacraments, Worship, Ministry, Mission. InterVarsity Press, 2005. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Christian Community. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1978. Brittain, Christopher Craig. “Ethnography as Ecclesial Attentiveness and Critical Reflexivity: Fieldwork and the Dispute over Homosexuality in the Episcopal Church.” Pages 114–37 in Explorations in Ecclesiology and Ethnography. Edited by Christian Batalden Scharen. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012. Cagle, Lisa, and James H. Zahniser. “Homosexuality: Toward an Informed, Compassionate Response.” Christian Scholar’s Review 36, no. 3 (2007): 323–48.

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Campbell, Dale. “Sin in Secular Ears: A Theo-Biblical & Sociological Exploration for Communicating the Doctrine of Sin in Aotearoa New Zealand.” Pacific Journal of Baptist Research 9, no. 2 (2014): 48–60. Colwell, John. “‘. . . With Mine On The Table’: Exclusion and the Faithful.” Mission Catalyst, no. 2 (2015): 12–13. Duff, Nancy. “How to Argue Moral Issues Surrounding Homosexuality When You Know You’re Right.” Pages 144–59 in Homosexuality and Christian Community. Edited by Choon Leong Seow. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996. Fowl, Stephen E., and L. Gregory Jones. Reading In Communion: Scripture and Ethics in Christian Life. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1998. Francis, Pope. “Evangelii Gaudium: Apostolic Exhortation on the Proclamation of the Gospel in Today’s World (24 November 2013) | Francis,” http://w2.vatican.va/ content/francesco/en/apost_exhortations/documents/papa-francesco_esortazioneap_20131124_evangelii-gaudium.html#_ftnref51 Green, S. G., ed. The Baptist Church Hymnal: Hymns, Chants, Anthems with Music. London: Psalms and Hymns Trust, 1900. Grenz, Stanley J. Theology for the Community of God. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Jones, L. Gregory, and Célestin Musekura. Forgiving As We’ve Been Forgiven: Community Practices for Making Peace. Grand Rapids, MI: InterVarsity Press, 2010. McClendon Jr, James Wm. Doctrine: Systematic Theology. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2011. McKnight, Scot. A Community Called Atonement: Living Theology. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010. ———. A Fellowship of Differents: Showing the World God’s Design for Life Together. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2015. Meyers, Ruth A. Missional Worship, Worshipful Mission: Gathering as God’s People, Going Out in God’s Name. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014. Müller-Fahrenholz, Geiko. The Art of Forgiveness: Theological Reflections on Healing and Reconciliation. Geneva: WCC, 1997. The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia. A New Zealand Prayer Book: He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa. Rev. ed. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1997. “The Gay Christian Network,” http://www.gaychristian.net Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion & Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010. Zee, Leonard J. Vander. Christ, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper: Recovering the Sacraments for Evangelical Worship. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004.

FOURTEEN Te Tiriti o Waitangi An Act of Forgiveness Alistair Reese

In this chapter I situate forgiveness within the socio-political realm. Specifically, I offer the idea that a Treaty (Te Tiriti) signed in 1840 between Māori, 1 the indigenous people of Aotearoa-New Zealand (New Zealand) and the British Crown, was an act of forgiveness and reconciliation by the local inhabitants. 2 This act has relevance nearly two centuries after its signing in ways that are not often acknowledged. Significantly, Te Tiriti, as well as mediating a just entry into the land for later settlers, somewhat counterintuitively also meets an unexpected twenty-first century identity need for this numerically dominant people group. Although Te Tiriti o Waitangi is historically and geographically unique, I suggest that some of the concepts situated within it could act as an inspiration for reconciling forgiveness in other socio-political contexts. AOTEAROA-NEW ZEALAND AS SOCIO-POLITICAL CONTEXT FOR FORGIVENESS According to the late historian Judith Binney, “[T]here have been two remembered histories of New Zealand since 1840: that of the colonizers, and that of the colonized. Their visions and goals were different, creating memories which have been patterned by varying hopes and experiences.” 3 Accordingly, I acknowledge the continuing mamae (pain) for whānau (family), hapū (extended family), and iwi (tribe), who in 1840 exercised mana whenua (ancestral rights of occupation) over almost one 221

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hundred percent of Aotearoa New Zealand, but which by 2000 had been reduced to approximately four percent. 4 This despite the assurances of the second Article of Te Tiriti that Māori, with respect to their land, had nothing to fear from the arrival of the new settlers. 5 As well as the stated reconciliatory goals above, I shall traverse three main issues. The first is the complex and at times strained relationship between Māori and Pākehā New Zealanders, 6 against the backdrop of European colonization. It is a complex and often fissured relationship that continues to suffer stress as a consequence of Aotearoa-New Zealand’s colonial past and present and therefore one that yields an ongoing need for forgiveness and reconciliation. The second issue concerns the attempts by Pākehā to renegotiate their identity and ways of belonging in the land, and the impact this has on their relationship with Māori. This quest is part of a wider identity politics conversation that has emerged since the 1970s and is one that has galvanized opinions from a wide range of perspectives. The third issue is a Christian public theology of social reconciliation and how that might intersect with the first two contextual needs and yield some reconciliatory ideas from this theological and contextual engagement. Before I engage with the substance of my argument let me make some personal clarifications. I am a New Zealander of European descent: Pākehā is my te reo (language) Māori descriptor. My eponymous ancestor, Alexander Reese, arrived in New Zealand in 1867, aboard the sailing vessel Himalaya. He was a landless 19-year-old, whose Welsh family had relocated to Glasgow a century earlier, in search of work in the Scottish steel mills. He came here like many others full of hope because of the promise of land and a new egalitarian start—eventually he became a surveyor and land owner near Pahiatua in the Wairarapa. My family are the beneficiaries of Te Tiriti and indigenous manaakitanga (hospitality). We were extended hospitality as refugees and aliens who were in many ways without hope of prosperity or meaningful identity in our homeland. My wider family have prospered here for a complexity of reasons, but much of it has also to do with being a member of a majority people, who have been able to set the nation’s political, economic, and cultural agenda. Therefore, despite the extraordinary opportunity extended to Alexander Reese and his offspring, we have in some ways misappropriated the hospitality that has been extended to us. This latent understanding coupled with a Christian conviction of justice and hope has led me on a reconciliatory journey that has consumed much of my academic research and grassroots activity for the past fifteen years. This personal background is important, if for no other reason than to identify my contextual bias in addressing the issues before me. Like many Pākehā, “my remembered history” was shaped by the monolingual and essentially monocultural educational years that re-

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flected the perspectives of my peers and forebears. However, this way of remembering was challenged in the 1970s and onwards, not only for me, but also nationally by the emergence of another account in the land that demanded attention. This version belonged to Māori, whose new-found voice claimed a place to reveal, not in fact a new story but an enduring one that had informed their claims of identity and belonging, arguably since their arrival by various waka (canoe) more than a millennium ago. One of the outcomes of this journey was my participation in various fora, where I unexpectedly encountered a counter-intuitive Pākehā perspective. My speaking to these groups about the injustices suffered by Māori, particularly their loss of land, language, and culture elicited a variety of responses such as: “Well, at least Māori know who they are, but who are we?” Alongside this existential dilemma ranged other refrains: “We are all New Zealanders” or “My family has been here for a hundred years, so I’m indigenous too!’ These perspectives, or similar, have been iterated by several influential citizens. Prominent amongst these are the views by the late New Zealand historian Michael King. King, as well as being one of the first to explore identity ideas in response to the new political and cultural landscape, proposed a series of possibilities—he argued that people like himself who were “committed New Zealanders” deserved the identity appellation, “indigenous.” These claims of indigeneity were echoed in a paper presented by the then Race Relations Minister, Trevor Mallard, We are all New Zealanders Now in July, 2004. His presentation, which cited King, was a response to the Nationhood speech by the then leader of the National Party, Donald Brash to the Orewa Rotary Club in January 2004. 7 While Brash did not state explicitly that Pākehā were indigenous, his speech which challenged the idea of an indigenous special status for Māori equated to a similar outcome. These claims of indigeneity “for all” might also be summarized in the seemingly reasonable and often heard phrase “We are all New Zealanders” which in turn might be progressed to “We are all indigenous!” These refrains have been picked up by others since then and continue to surface during debates over identity and belonging. In response to these claims, I shall make a series of important observations to the overall identity and reconciliation discussion. These include some introductory thoughts about the generic quest for identity and belonging. THE QUEST FOR IDENTITY AND BELONGING Social geographer Anne Buttimer argues that location is important to identity. She maintains that, “people’s sense of both personal and cultural identity is intimately bound up with place . . . and that the ‘loss of home’ or ‘losing one’s place’ may often trigger an identity crisis.” 8 Her insights

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are important, not only in her linking of identity to place, but especially her observation that a “dislocation,” real or imagined, from these “places” may produce an identity crisis, perhaps echoing what has happened to Pākehā since the 1970s. In a similar vein, British sociologist Jeffrey Weeks notes that, “[I]dentity is about belonging . . . At its most basic, it gives you a sense of personal location, the stable core of your individuality.” 9 Thus identity is intricately linked to belonging and is understood as being crucial to human well-being, or as Weeks describes it, to our “social core.” These observations suggest that the post-1970 identity reconfigurations by Pākehā are not in themselves misplaced but are both natural and important for psychological and social well-being. What is of concern, however, is the way in which such socially constructed identities may impact upon others, for as Miroslav Volf has articulated, the “will for identity” is “universal,” but in his view, it is also the “fuel” for many of the world’s conflicts. 10 This is a correlation, he says, that “demands” us “to place identity and otherness at the center of theological reflection on social realities.” 11 As many acknowledge, much identity construction is also about creating a “cohesive narrative” about self, and within that narrative, “there is always ‘claims making.’” 12 In other words, these social identities are in many ways narratival creations, which are “neither passive nor merely descriptive, but carry ideological prescriptions.” 13 Such narratives, and by implication their associated identities, are neither value-free nor exist in a social vacuum, but the identities they create are ontological or existential realities that in some contexts may contradict or compete with the social narratives and identities held by others. In many ways, it is these narratives or “back stories” which inform cultural identities which need to be understood and analyzed if we are to mitigate their potential to “fuel conflict.” How might the indigenous claims of King and others contribute to ethnic tension or possible conflict? Certainly, if viewed via the old adage of “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me,” then the use of such appellations as “indigenous” is harmless, and whatever Māori are called or whatever Pākehā choose to call themselves becomes irrelevant. However, given the impact of colonialism the project of “naming” becomes highly relevant. The use of the term indigenous and the subtler phrase “we are all New Zealanders” by Pākehā, while satisfying their existential need to belong, has an equalizing effect upon Māori—one that subsumes them within a convenient national narrative and undermines the uniqueness of their identity and any associated rights which should be accorded them either under common law or the Treaty of Waitangi. This equalizing move carries echoes of previous colonial practice and provokes some post-colonial scholars to suggest that “old habits die hard.” 14 Cultural historian Peter Gibbons warns,

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“[C]olonization is not just an early morning fog that dissipates midmorning as the bright sun of national identity comes out.” 15 He argues that colonization is not a “finished event” but that colonizing tendencies are apparent especially within the wider “New Zealand as nation” discourse. He proposes that while there is a geographical entity which is called New Zealand, in almost every other way the term is a “discursive construction,” as is the related “national identity” or “New Zealand identity.” 16 Thus identifiers such as “New Zealand” and “New Zealander,” are social constructions which carry and signal certain cultural, historical, and political assumptions. Within these seemingly innocuous assumptions, New Zealand postcolonial scholar, Stephen Turner has identified what he terms a “three-fold deficit.” 17 Firstly, he proposes that the Pākehā quest displays an “existential deficit” demonstrated by their claims of “indigeneity”; secondly, a historiographical deficit or “historical amnesia” based upon a short view of history and thirdly, a “Waitangi deficit” because their re-visioning of the New Zealand identity and belonging landscape does not take into account the Pākehā responsibility to Te Tiriti. 18 While he and other postcolonial scholars accept the legitimacy of the Pākehā quest in general, their consensus was that, overall, the representative Pākehā claims took insufficient consideration of the status of Māori as tangata whenua (indigenous) and all that such status represents culturally and politically. 19 In summary, they argue that this elision of difference, amounts to a denial of history and a propensity to continue the colonizing tendencies of the past. It is a conclusion that I largely agree with! RECONCILIATION IN AOTEAROA-NEW ZEALAND If the outline above defines the problem at hand, summarized as, “the quest for Pākehā identity and belonging,” what is the reconciliatory way forward? In other words, how can Pākehā belong and create an identity without repeating the colonizing tendencies of a settler people? And secondly, what can a Christian understanding of reconciliation contribute to this conversation? The Christian gospel has a language, an ethos, and indeed a consequence that lends itself, not only to the realm of individual soteriology, but also to the socio-political realm. However, when talking about colonization this brings to the surface issues of credibility because of the entanglements of the missionary project with the impetus of Empire. However, on this point Rowan Williams offers: The Church is . . . the trustee of a vision that is radical and universal, the vision of a social order that is without fear, oppression, the violence of exclusion and the search for scapegoats . . . The Church cannot begin to claim that it consistently lives by this; its failure is all too visible,

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Alistair Reese century-by-century. But its credibility does not hang on its unbroken success; only on its continued willingness to be judged by what it announces and points to, the non-competitive, non-violent order of God’s realm, centered upon Jesus and accessible through commitment to him. 20

In Aotearoa-New Zealand, the church’s “trusteeship” of this radical Christian vision, particularly in relationship to colonialism is an uneven one. Since the first Christian sermon was preached in Northland in 1814, there have been many outstanding examples of Christian peace-making endeavor. According to some church historians, it was the presentation of the gospel as a “way of peace” that attracted many Māori to the missionary message. 21 With respect to inter-hapū (tribal) warfare, the blood of Jesus spoke a better word than the blood of Abel or the blood of utu (revenge). In the early part of the 19th century, church reconciliatory and peace-making efforts were concentrated upon Māori inter-tribal warfare and the impact of colonialism. Consequently, many representations were made on behalf of Māori to governments, both in Wellington and London, over unjust land dealings and the Crown policy of raupatu (land confiscation). Also, Waitangi historian Claudia Orange has noted that without the mediation of the missionaries, the 1840 Treaty would never have been signed. 22 However, between 1860 and 1980 the church voice was largely silent on issues of colonization as arguably its concern turned from an emphasis upon indigenous mission to a pastoral concern for settlers. 23 Since the 1980s however, the church’s prophetic voice has become more evident, notably in the sphere of race relations and the political and economic plight of Māori. 24 In summary, I suggest that as the church we have a postcolonial voice, albeit a somewhat tarnished one, and one that needs work. If social reconciliation is a dimension of the missio Dei and implicitly a reflection of divine wisdom, what then is the shape of the reconciliatory ideas that we can offer to the New Zealand task I have outlined? Before responding to that I should like to offer some alternatives to our commonly adopted reconciliatory approach, which may be helpful to our reconciling mission. Traditionally, Christians when seeking to offer solutions of reconciliation into the public sphere, have adopted what I term an “ethical approach.” These include strategies that offer variations of behavioral change within the rubrics of justice, truth-telling, forgiveness, and repentance, to mention some of the more common components. For example, in Miroslav Volf’s much heralded work, Exclusion and Embrace, he adopted a stratagem which he termed as a preference for “social agency” over “social arrangements.” To cite Volf, this means “reflecting not on how societies ought to be arranged, in order to accommodate individuals and groups with diverse identities living together . . . but [we should]

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reflect on the kind of selves we need to be in order to live in harmony with others.” 25 Or to put that more simply, he argues for an emphasis on ethical behavior over societal structures, specifically a cruciform ethic of preference for the other. In some of my earlier work on the New Zealand context I adopted such an approach. 26 This strategy included the need for the church in New Zealand to acknowledge its involvement in the colonial project and support this acknowledgment with acts of repentance. These actions included the need for bi-cultural ecclesial structures, the return of land, and the encouragement of te reo Māori me ona tikanga (Māori language and culture). While this popular approach has much to recommend it and as a human project reflects the divine wisdom, it does not however, represent an exhaustive view of the biblical examples of reconciliation. This traditional approach to socio-political reconciliation for example, does not utilize the divine approach as revealed in the structural foundations of the God-in-Christ reconciling strategy, that is “God’s-wise” approach to the reconciliation of the cosmos. For example, in 2 Corinthians 5:18, Paul states, “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (NIV). Paul makes it clear that reconciliation is essentially a divine work. According to John Webster this means that, “Human moral action is subordinate to divine saving action . . . and therefore the sociology of morals is strictly subservient to moral ontology.” 27 Extrapolating from this, human reconciling activity is neither autonomous or in any sense a creative or constitutive force within Christ’s “once-for-all” reconciliation. Rather, there is what Stuart Noble describes as an “ontological connection between the movement of God towards the world and the action of human beings.” 28 In other words, divine reconciliation is an objective reality before it is a subjective human activity. Dietrich Bonhoeffer is helpful: Christ represents both an ontological and existential reality. From God’s perspective, the reconciliation of God and his creation is an ontological reality. We then experience the existential transformation towards Christ through meditation on the Incarnation, Crucifixion and Resurrection where this ontological reality becomes known to us. If Christ represents the truly human, a Christian ethic then asks, “how this reality of God and of the world that is given in Christ becomes real in our world?” 29

Webster and others are right in drawing our attention to the sheer gratuity of God’s act of reconciliation and the ontological reality that results from God’s work. However, despite their desire to clearly identify precise demarcations between human and divine action, even Webster acknowledges the “problems” and “incompleteness” of this stance. 30 For example, having stressed the priority of God within reconciliation he

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neglects to explicate in any substantial way how this “works within the human sphere,” and in my view underestimates the human involvement in cosmic reconciliation, or our “ministry of reconciliation.” Bonhoeffer, for his part, identifies several forms of human activity as a result of Christ’s reconciliation work, human activity which clearly shows the place of human agency in the work of human reconciliation. The points raised by Webster, Bonhoeffer, and others are salient. Reconciliation as presented especially by Paul, reveals a “state” or “condition” of restored relationship that has already been achieved. While there is an eschatological tension to this reality, the language that Paul uses presupposes that from a divine perspective it has already been accomplished. I refer to this state as a new cosmological reality—or as others have described it, the eschatological perspective of God’s assured future. It is this reality that lays the foundation for a concomitant or appropriate reconciliation ethic—an ethic based upon the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and the facilitation of the Holy Spirit. 31 What is clear is that without this Christological grounding of an objective or ontological reality, there would be no ultimate hope for human efforts of reconciliation. However, humanity is entrusted with a life that is consistent with “the definitive reconciliation of the world already achieved in Christ.” 32 This accomplishment of Christ is one of the key differences between a Christian perspective of reconciliation and other religious or secular views. By this, Christian reconciliation becomes more than an exhortation to an ethic of self-improvement or the creation of alternative communities by human effort alone. However, this attention to the ontological reality of divine reconciliation is incomplete if we do not extrapolate its significance for the restoration of human relationships. While it is important to acknowledge that the cosmos, via the work of Christ, has been reconciled and understand on one hand, as Webster described it, “human action is not constitutive of the event of reconciliation . . . [and] in this sense, the event of reconciliation is closed.” 33 It is important on the other hand to acknowledge, to use Webster’s words again, “that the event is not closed in the sense that it eliminates all subsequent reconciling activity . . . for it is an event of which one of the agents is the Holy Spirit. And this expansion takes place as the risen Christ in the Spirit’s power, generates . . . human acts.” 34 Webster’s “subsequent reconciling activity” via the agency of the Holy Spirit, speaks of the human domain and our anthropological status of imago Dei and the associated stewardship mandate within the missio Dei. Understood in this way, Christ’s objective, reconciliation is foundational for our understanding of social reconciliation. However, not only does humanity live within the divine ontological reality of reconciliation it also has a responsibility and ability to create its own reconciled “states” or “ontologies.” In other words, if the human involvement in the missio Dei is the reconciling work of restoring social relationships, then this will

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reflect, albeit imperfectly, the reconciling wisdom of God, both structurally and ethically. This acknowledgment of human involvement under the conditions of the reconciling work of Christ leads me to an important question. If divine reconciliation is primary and ontological, how has God achieved this? The answer is simply by the use of covenant. Here covenant operates as a pre-structural ontological mechanism—in other words cosmic reconciliation as a reality is achieved via a covenant of grace. Or to integrate the ideas of David F. Ford 35 and Miroslav Volf, 36 the “wise loving embrace of God” through covenantal commitment creates the ontological reality that we have been talking about. It is “being in covenant” with God—this new relational cosmic arrangement—that provides a “reconciled identity” and a “place of belonging” for the people of God, as well as a restoration of the entire created order. Those within the covenant “are reconciled’—their relationship with God and creation is restored. As a unique organizing mechanism, covenant provides an ontological reality, which is not primarily dependent upon the vagaries of human effort, but nevertheless always has an implied normative ethical dimension. To reiterate, Paul presents reconciliation as an ontological reality framed within the mechanism of covenant. In some ways, this relates to the “structural what” of reconciliation as opposed to the “ethical how.” 37 Two Pauline passages particularly support the view that reconciliation is objectively founded in God’s covenantal dealings with humanity, and that such covenantal dealings call forth human response. The first relates to the reconciliation between Jew and Gentile in Ephesians 2 and the second is the marriage example of 1 Corinthians 7. The Ephesian example is primarily soteriological with clear sociological implications and the Corinthian example is sociological with implications for soteriological understandings. I shall leave aside the Ephesians 2 example because it is well known. Except to say that the key here is that the inclusion of both Jew and Gentile in Christ as a “new creation” was a work of grace based upon the work of Christ and not an achievement via ethical practice. Paul did not exhort Jew and Gentile “to get on better with each other” as a means towards reconciliation—he acknowledged God’s structural or objective change that facilitated a new relationship. 38 His exhortation to Jewish and Gentile Christians to live in peace, proceeded out of the possibility that a state of shalom or reconciliation had already been achieved, via the structural change wrought through Christ. MARRIAGE AND RECONCILIATION Now to the 1 Corinthians 7 marriage example, where Paul uses the Greek term katallagētō—a usage which I propose brings further clarity to our discussion on ontology and ethics. This passage, as I have explained

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above, is the only explicit katallasō or reconciliation passage that is apparently “non-soteriological.” “To the married I give this command—not I but the Lord—that the wife should not separate from her husband. But if she does, she must remain unmarried or else be reconciled (katallagētō) to her husband. And a husband must not divorce his wife” (1 Cor 7:10–11). Here Paul employs a term that is used in the Greek marriage records of the time—a quasi-legal designation that describes the reunion of a husband and wife after a separation or divorce. The context of Paul’s usage is a passage where he is addressing the issue of marriage and separation in the Corinthian church. Simply put, Paul exhorts wives and husbands not to divorce. However, speaking to the woman, Paul says that if for some reason the need to divorce arises they should stay single or otherwise “be reconciled to her husband.” The choice is between divorcing and consequently in Paul’s view remaining single, or if the woman wants to be married she needs to return to “be reconciled” to her husband. What does this reconciliation consist of? Paul gives no detail of the process. However, this silence together with our understanding of the term as used within Greek marriage records of the time to describe the “state” of a reunited couple as “reconciled,” leaves us with the possibility that Paul understands that a type of reconciliation is achieved by returning to the marriage covenant. In other words, Paul gives no instructions to the wife, as to the reconciliatory mechanics apart from the injunction, “be reconciled to her husband.” Here consistent with the Greek terminology of the time, a “state of reconciliation” is achieved by returning to the marriage covenant. In Paul’s view, reconciliation is achieved by remaining with or returning to an ontological reality formed via covenant. This is not to suggest that Paul imagines there is no concomitant ethic, either reconciliatory or otherwise, within the marriage relationship—that is clear by his treatment of marriage in other contexts. However, it is possible to argue that within Paul’s mind returning to the covenant of marriage represents what I shall term, a “first order objective state of reconciliation” that is not achieved by “ethical behavior” but that a “second order state of reconciliation” within marriage is achieved by an appropriate interpersonal ethic. An important thing to note here is that, mirroring the divine model, an “objective state” of reconciliation within marriage is achieved within covenant. Within Paul’s vision, which is also a generic New Testament understanding, there is the implication that the wisdom revealed by God in Christ provides both the model and the means for social reconciliation. This is a covenantal “grace-ful” and pneumatalogically enabled state and imperative, which sees humans as both subjective and objective participants. In other words, humans within the covenant are both reconciled objects as part of the already reconciled cosmos, and also subjective agents as ambassadors of the reconciling impetus. God provides, via the

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work of Christ and the Spirit, not only the ultimate telos of reconciliation, but an adaptable and “wise” model and means for the ongoing reconciling needs of creation. To summarize, we can present social reconciliation as a subset within the divine reconciling trajectory that when outworked in the public sphere will carry the characteristics of the divine model. These characteristics will reflect both the objective and subjective qualities of the reconciling work of God in Christ. Social reconciliation then is in some sense analogous to the divine model and that human reconciling efforts are a participation in the divine reconciling process, or as Volf phrases it: “God’s reception of hostile humanity into divine community is a model of how human beings should relate to each other.” 39 RECONCILIATION STRATEGY However, if we only present reconciliation as essentially a two-dimensional concept, comprising an objective state and a corresponding ethical imperative, this summary ignores an important dimension: the application of these characteristics into the social or political context. With acknowledgment to Gordon Fee, I term this the “S/spiritual 40 strategy” of reconciliation, to indicate divine and human agency. This is an important but often underestimated aspect of the reconciliatory task. It is essentially this process that “contextualizes” the divine reconciliatory wisdom for each local requirement. This is socio-political reconciliation as art or craft, an activity, to cite Walter Brueggemann that often draws upon our “prophetic imagination.” 41 If as we acknowledge, reconciliation as presented by Paul, is God’swise response to a fissured cosmos, comprising ontology and ethics, then I propose that the application is contextually variable—a context which includes the various needs of the people involved. Crucially, this context including those needs, are “understood” by the Spirit. He in turn is able to interpret to the offended and the offenders, to the ministers and priests of reconciliation, a divine spiritual wisdom, one which will not contradict how God in Christ has reconciled the world to himself. It is this wisdom that will ultimately be contextualized into the local situation. A recent experience reinforced this idea of reconciliation as “craft” or “art.” In some ways it is analogous to the craft of mahi raranga (weaving). I was involved in a meeting at a Pā (Māori village) discussing a particular national reconciliation project. As is the tradition we began the meeting with prayer or karakia. The group consisted of two Pākehā and five Māori kaumatua and kuia (male and female elders). One kuia was weaving a kete (basket) during the meeting, and she was having difficulty fitting some of the strands into place. Simultaneously, in our discussion, we were struggling over the right terminology to describe an event we were planning.

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The discussion was more than semantic, because the terms being proposed represented particular perspectives regarding past offenses perpetrated by the Crown. After much discussion, a term was agreed upon, one which was able to carry the reality of the pain that was still being felt because of injustice, but which was also able to indicate the peoples’ desire for forgiveness and reconciliation. Significantly, at that precise time, the kuia had a “breakthrough” with her weaving. Almost at the instance of our “reconciliation breakthrough” the kuia was able to make a particular flax frond fit into her overall kete design. 42 The symbolism of the weaving breakthrough was immediately understood and commented upon by the other Māori in the group. In the instance of the kete weaving, the kuia’s struggle with where to place the particular flax fronds symbolized our own reconciliatory struggle. While on one level the kuia’s struggle was a technical challenge, symbolically, this frond represented the place of “truth-telling” in our overall reconciliation strategy. The frond placed in the wrong place would result in a misshapen kete. The lack of truth-telling within our reconciliation event would represent a misshapen or incomplete reconciliation. In the mahi raranga of my example, the kuia would never claim to be acting “alone” but in the presence of Te Atua (God), she utilized the materials of her craft and followed a pattern handed down through generations and was able to finally produce a work of art. 43 As a leading Māori weaving exponent Erenora Puketapu-Hetet has said: Māori weaving is full of symbolism and hidden meanings, embodied with the spiritual values and beliefs of the Māori people. Weaving is more than just a product of manual skills. From the simple rourou (food basket) to the prestigious kahu kiwi (kiwi feather cloak), weaving is endowed with the very essence of the spiritual values of Māori people. The ancient Polynesian belief is that the artist is a vehicle through whom the gods create. 44

The reference by Puketapu-Hetet to “the artist is a vehicle” suggests that mahi raranga is more a spiritual art than a technologically derived science. I offer that the same is true for the art of social reconciliation. To conclude, I acknowledge that there is a certain artificiality in the distinction between arrangement and agency, or structure and ethics, for the two are in some sense inseparable, both theoretically and practically. However, I propose that the clarification remains an important one to make, if for no other reason than to draw our attention to reconciliation as having two such integral and interdependent components. AN ATTEMPT TO WEAVE I shall now attempt to “weave” the above, that is the problem of the identity and belonging needs of Pākehā, and the pressure this need

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places upon our relationship with Māori together with what I have proposed about social reconciliation. I have identified that careless identity claims can in turn usurp Māori identity and exacerbate an already fractured relationship. I have also argued that the Pākehā ontological dilemma displays a “three-fold deficit.” That is an “existential deficit” demonstrated by claims of “indigeneity,” a “historiographical deficit” or “historical amnesia,” a convenient forgetting of the past, and a “Waitangi deficit” because of an either explicit or implicit denial of Te Tiriti. I have also proposed that despite the use by theologians and practitioners of an “ethical” or “agency” approach to the restoration of relationships there exists within the divine reconciling of the cosmos another model for our toolkit. These include a structural or “social arrangement” approach. Finally, I have argued that reconciling strategies should be prayerfully considered—as an acknowledgment of the pneumatological involvement. Social reconciliation lies within the trajectory of God towards a reconciled cosmos, humanity is a part of that trajectory, both as object and subject and in a mysterious way is invited to participate within that divine mission. Now with regard to the New Zealand context, I hold that the reconciliatory identity needs of Pākehā might be best met, in the first instance, by recourse to a structural approach that is via a “social arrangement”; in part because identity has more to do with ontology than economy. That is, our primary identities are more to do with “who we are” than “what we do.” Ironically, I believe it is Te Tiriti o Waitangi which offers the most promising mechanism for socio-political reconciliation between Māori and Pākehā. Contrary to the perception of many, Te Tiriti is not only for Māori but for Pākehā too. For as Judge Eddie Durie stated in 1989: We must also not forget that the Treaty is not just a Bill of Rights for Māori. It is a Bill of Rights for Pākehā too. It is the Treaty that gives Pākehā the right to be here. Without the Treaty there would be no lawful authority for the Pākehā presence in this part of the South Pacific . . . .We must remember that if we [Māori] are the tangata whenua, the original people then the Pākehā are the Tangata Tiriti, those who belong to the land by right of that Treaty. 45

I also propose that our Christian understandings of covenant can add something to the treaty discourse. What is Te Tiriti? It is many things, but at its core it is an imperfect but binding covenantal agreement that offers an opportunity for social cohesion within a postcolonial context. 46 The claim for Te Tiriti’s covenantal status is based upon three strands. Firstly, in its historical usage by Māori and the Crown, particularly in the nineteenth century. Secondly, theologically, Te Tiriti displays covenantal characteristics. Thirdly, legally Te Tiriti fits within the covenantal parameters assumed by international legal entities with regard to treaty arrangements between people groups.

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Te Tiriti provided for Pākehā an initial entrance into a forgiven and reconciled relationship with Māori as well as providing an identity and place of belonging. It still holds that possibility. Te Tiriti not only defines the Māori-Pākehā relationship, but objectively reconciles it and is able to continue to provide a reconciling location. Drawing an analogy from how God has reconciled the world to himself in Christ, and from the political treaties of the Old Testament and beyond, those who belong to the covenant/treaty, enjoy a treaty identity, and a concomitant union with the other covenantal partner. In this way, Te Tiriti not only reinforces the identity of Māori as tangata whenua, but it also provides a location, or tūrangawaewae (place to stand) that serves as an identifier for Pākehā. I offer that this identity, of tangata tiriti, is both autonomous and yet also mutually constituted with Māori who as tangata whenua enjoy their own unique autonomy as delineated within Te Tiriti. I have described the divine model (and by analogy, social reconciliation) as a grace-ful ontological reality—whereby God, as the “offended” party has provided for the “offender” an opportunity of reconciliation. The emphasis here is upon reconciliation as a “gift.” At the heart of divine reconciliation lies the concept of grace or gift—and the understanding that ultimately reconciliation cannot be earned. It can be received via repentance, and honored by an appropriate ethical behavior, but that behavior, from a Christian perspective does not in itself merit the reconciliation. Te Tiriti can be viewed in a similar way. In the first instance, it was a grace-ful reconciliatory mechanism, offered by Māori to the Crown—and by extension to Pākehā. In the Aotearoa-New Zealand context, the European settlers were the “offending interlopers” and yet Māori from a position of strength offered to Pākehā, via Te Tiriti, a “place of belonging” that achieved a “state of peace” or reconciliation. I suggest that in this way Māori personified Volf’s metaphor of reconciliation as an “embrace.” In his words, this reconciling embrace is “the will to give ourselves to others and ‘welcome’ them, to readjust our identities to make space for them.” 47 While, in a technical sense, it might be argued that the articles of Te Tiriti, which guaranteed certain rights to Māori, including rights of British citizenship, are indications of Crown favor to Māori, and an indication that it was the Crown that created Te Tiriti, I argue that these rights were in reality a reciprocation of a prior Māori hospitality. In essence, the Crown articulated, with the help of the missionaries, in nineteenth-century European form, a political document that encapsulated the Māori will—a will that included the “forgiveness” of the European intrusion and offered a just means for the new settlers to enter and dwell in the land. Pākehā, then, did not earn the right to be here, but received the right from Māori, via the gift of Te Tiriti. However, to borrow from Bonhoeffer, this gift is not necessarily “cheap,” 48 but deserves an appropriate

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ethical honoring—a type of honoring that becomes clearer when the Treaty is understood within a covenantal framework. Secondly, as I indicated above, Te Tiriti as it stands now continues to provide a reconciled identity and place of belonging for all settlers. However, like all covenants, it has been and can continue to be broken. The first place that the covenant can be broken is in the heart and mind, because Te Tiriti is primarily a relational commitment. My concern here is with Pākehā as people and not so much as governments, so I shall not repeat the issues of Crown betrayal, but as Stephen Turner has said, “the basis for the authority of the New Zealand government today is the sheer weight of white settlement.” 49 Simply, then, a governmental betrayal is a Pākehā betrayal. However, returning to Te Tiriti as a Pākehā heart issue— I offer that we first “break the covenant” when we are “unfaithful” to it in our heart and minds. This manifests in various ways, but ultimately ends in a denial of covenantal obligations. For Māori, the repercussions of this Pākehā denial have been the loss of their identity, culture, language, and lands. For those who break the covenant by whatever means, if we draw on our Pauline model of 1 Corinthians, must be reconciled. Reconciliation, in the first instance, means simply to return to the covenant/Tiriti. A rejection by Pākehā of the covenant/Tiriti in whatever way, equates to being in a state of non-reconciliation with Māori, and without recourse to their foundational source of reconciled identity and belonging. Those Pākehā, who in their hearts and minds acknowledge Te Tiriti, in my view enjoy a covenantal relationship of reconciliation with Māori, which then points towards an ethical lifestyle of covenantal commitment, not dissimilar to the covenant of marriage. To conclude then, for Pākehā settlers, both old and new, Te Tiriti formalizes their relationship with Māori. In the first instance it was a historical act of reconciliation, and it remains as such. However, not only does it afford a state of reconciliation with Māori, it also provides a location of identity and belonging. In the way that Te Tiriti affirms the identity and belonging of Māori as tangata whenua, it also, in a sense, initiates the identity and belonging of Pākehā hence: tangata tiriti. This designation stands in juxtaposition to Māori as “the first or host people” or tangata whenua, and just as that nomenclature helps to define Māori, tangata tiriti helps to define Pākehā, especially as it links them to their tūrangawaewae. I propose then that the term tangata tiriti is a reconciled cognomen, and similarly to the term Pākehā provides an identity that is derived via a relationship with Māori. However, it also carries the advantage that it provides an identity that recognizes the covenantal social arrangement with their Tiriti partner. Viewed in this light, Waitangi (water of tears) the geographical location of the signing of Te Tiriti, can be seen not only as a place of tears, but it can also be viewed as some have

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described it, as Te Tatau Pounamu (Greenstone Door)—a doorway to forgiveness and reconciliation. 50 NOTES 1. Māori are a Polynesian people who according to most traditions migrated in large numbers to New Zealand around 1300 AD from various South Pacific locations following the discovery of these islands by their ocean voyaging ancestors in 900 AD. 2. I acknowledge there are two versions of the Treaty/Tiriti—an English version and a Māori version. Henceforth, I shall use the term Te Tiriti, as a means of abbreviation and to signify, in accordance with international protocol what is known as Contra proferentem. This is an internationally recognized doctrine of interpretation that provides that in the instance of ambiguity the acknowledged meaning is that which is against the drafter of the document. In the instance of the Waitangi Treaty then, the “preferred meaning” is that which is understood by Māori. 3. Judith Binney, “Māori Oral Narratives, Pākehā Written Texts: Two Forms of Telling History,” in The Shaping of History, Essays from the New Zealand Journal of History, ed. Judith Binney (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2002), 3. 4. “Māori Land Loss, 1860–2000,” http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/media/interactive/ māori-land-1860-2000 5. Article 2 of Treaty of Waitangi: Her Majesty the Queen of England confirms and guarantees to the Chiefs and Tribes of New Zealand and to the respective families and individuals thereof the full exclusive and undisturbed possession of their Lands and Estates Forests Fisheries and other properties which they may collectively or individually possess so long as it is their wish and desire to retain the same in their possession. 6. Pākehā is the name given by Māori to the early British settlers—its precise meaning is contested. 7. Donald Brash, Nationhood Speech to Orewa Rotary Club, http:// www.national.org.nz/speech_article.aspx?Article 8. Anne Buttimer, “Home, Reach and the Sense of Place,” in The Human Experience of Space and Place, eds. Anne Buttimer and David Seamon (London: Croom Helm, 1980), 166–187. 9. Jeffrey Weeks cited in Tracey McIntosh, “Maori Identities: Fixed, Fluid, Forced,” in New Zealand Identities: Departures and Destinations, eds. James H. Liu, Tim McCreanor, Tracey McIntosh, and Teresia Teaiwa (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2005), 38. 10. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 17. 11. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 17. 12. Tracey McIntosh, “Māori Identities: Fixed, Fluid, Forced,” in New Zealand Identities Departures and Destinations, eds. James H. Liu, Tim McCreanor, Tracey McIntosh, and Teresia Teaiwa (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2005), 38. 13. McIntosh, “Māori Identities,” 14. 14. Peter Gibbons, “Cultural Colonization and National Identity,” New Zealand Journal of History, 36.1 (2002): 5. 15. Gibbons, “Cultural Colonization and National Identity,” 5. 16. Gibbons, “Cultural Colonization and National Identity,” 5. 17. Stephen Turner, “The Indigenous Commons,” http://gold.ac.uk/culturalstudies/calendar/?id=5436. 18. Turner, “The Indigenous Commons.” 19. See, for example, various works by Ani Mikaere and Avril Bell. 20. Rowan Williams, Faith Communities in a Civil Society—Christian Perspectives, http://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles. 21. See Keith Newman’s Bible and Treaty: Missionaries Among the Māori—A New Perspective, (Auckland: Penguin, 2010).

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22. Claudia Orange, The Treaty of Waitangi, (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 1987), 57. 23. See Alistair Reese, “Truth, Reconciliation and Naboth’s Vineyard: Towards Reconciliation in Aotearoa New Zealand” (MPhil Thesis, University of Cambridge, 2007). 24. For example, “The Church Leaders’s Statement for 1990,” http://www.casi.org. nz/statements, and the “Hikoi of Hope,” organized by the Anglican Church of Aotearoa-New Zealand. 25. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 20–21. 26. See Reese, “Truth, Repentance and Naboth’s Vineyard.” 27. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 113. 28. Stuart J. Noble, “Christ and Conflict: Towards a Theology of Reconciliation with Reference to Northern Ireland” (MPhil Thesis, University of St Andrews, 2006), 52. 29. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Call for a New Ethic” in http://www. humanismandculture.com/dietrich-bonhoeffers-call-for-a-new-ethic. 30. John Webster, “Ethics of Reconciliation,” in The Theology of Reconciliation, ed. Colin E. Gunton (London: T & T Clark, 2003), 111. 31. Corneliu Constantineanu, The Social Significance of Reconciliation in Paul’s Theology: Narrative Readings in Romans, (London: T & T Clark, 2010), 179. 32. Constantineanu, The Social Significance of Reconciliation in Paul’s Theology, 179 33. Webster, “Ethics,” 122. 34. Webster, “Ethics,” 122. 35. David F. Ford, The Drama of Living: Becoming Wise in the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2014). 36. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace. 37. Although the occurrences of the term “reconciliation” are relatively few in Paul’s letters many scholars agree that the concept does much to shape his overall theology. See for example, R. P. Martin’s, Reconciliation: A Study of Paul’s Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989) and N. T. Wright’s, Paul and the Faithfulness of God (London: SPCK, 2013). 38. Todd Speidell, “Incarnational Social Ethics,” in Incarnational Ministry: The Presence of Christ in Church, Society and Family: Essays in Honor of Ray S Anderson, eds. Christian D. Kettler and Todd Speidell (Colorado Springs: Helmers and Howard, 1990), 146. 39. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 100. 40. This is a mix of two words with captial “S” indicating the Holy Spirit and lower case “s” indicating the human spirit. This is a convention I have adopted from Gordon D. Fee in his God’s Empowering Presence: The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul, (Massachusetts: Hendricksen, 1994). 41. Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination, (Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 2001). 42. A kete is constructed by the intricate weaving together of flax fronds or leaves. 43. The kuia of this example acknowledged this help in a prayer or karakia by giving thanks to God for enabling her to complete the process. 44. Erenora Puketapu-Hetet, Māori Weaving (Auckland: Longman Paul, 1989), 2. 45. New Zealand Herald, 6 February 1989, cited in The Treaty of Waitangi Companion: Māori and Pākehā from Tasman to Today, ed. Vincent O’Malley (Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2010). 46. The term “postcolonial” is used in a political sense rather than a chronological sense—it implies a commitment towards a politics of decolonization in all spheres. 47. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 29. 48. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, (New York: Touchstone Publishers, 1995), 45. 49. Stephen Turner, “Settlement as Forgetting,” in Quicksands: Foundational Histories in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand, eds. Klaus Neumann, Nicholas Thomas, and Hilary Ericksen (Sydney: UNSW Press, 1999), 29.

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50. In 1934, when Governor General, Lord Bledisloe gifted Waitangi back to the nation he stated: “Let Waitangi be to us all a Tatau Pounamu, a symbol of peace and unity.” This is a reference to the traditional use of Te Tatau Pounamu (Greenstone Door) to represent reconciliation in the Māori world.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Binney, Judith. “Māori Oral Narratives, Pākehā Written Texts: Two Forms of Telling History.” Pages 2–14 in The Shaping of History, Essays from the New Zealand Journal of History. Edited by Judith Binney. Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2002. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. “Call for a New Ethic.” http://www.humanismandculture.com/ dietrich-bonhoeffers-call-for-a-new-ethic. ———. The Cost of Discipleship. New York: Touchstone Publishers, 1995. Brash, Donald. “Nationhood Speech to Orewa Rotary Club.” http://www.national.org. nz/speech_article.aspx?Article. Brueggemann, Walter. The Prophetic Imagination. Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 2001. Buttimer, Anne. “Home, Reach and the Sense of Place.” Pages 166–87 in The Human Experience of Space and Place. Edited by Anne Buttimer and David Seamon. London: Croom Helm, 1980. Constantineanu, Corneliu. The Social Significance of Reconciliation in Paul’s Theology: Narrative Readings in Romans. London: T & T Clark, 2010. Fee, Gordon D. God’s Empowering Presence: The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul. Peabody, MA: Hendricksen, 1994. Ford, David F. The Drama of Living: Becoming Wise in the Spirit. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2014. Gibbons, Peter. “Cultural Colonization and National Identity.” New Zealand Journal of History, 36.1 (2002): 5. “Māori Land Loss, 1860–2000.” New Zealand History. http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/ media/interactive/māori-land-1860-2000 Martin, R. P. Reconciliation: A Study of Paul’s Theology. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989. McIntosh, Tracey. “Māori Identities: Fixed, Fluid, Forced.” Pages 38–51 in New Zealand Identities: Departures and Destinations. Edited by James H. Liu, Tim McCreanor, Tracey McIntosh, and Teresia Teaiwa. Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2005. Newman, Keith. Bible and Treaty: Missionaries Among the Māori—A New Perspective Auckland: Penguin, 2010. Noble, Stuart J. “Christ and Conflict: Towards a Theology of Reconciliation with Reference to Northern Ireland.” MPhil Thesis, University of St Andrews, 2006. O’Malley, Vincent. (ed.) The Treaty of Waitangi Companion: Māori and Pākehā from Tasman to Today. Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2010. Orange, Claudia. The Treaty of Waitangi. Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 1987. Puketapu-Hetet, Erenora. Māori Weaving. Auckland: Longman Paul, 1989. Reese, Alistair. “Truth, Reconciliation and Naboth’s Vineyard: Towards Reconciliation in Aotearoa New Zealand.” MPhil Thesis, University of Cambridge, 2007. Speidell, Todd. “Incarnational Social Ethics.” Pages 140–52 in Incarnational Ministry: The Presence of Christ in Church, Society and Family: Essays in Honor of Ray S Anderson. Edited by Christian D. Kettler and Todd Speidell. Colorado Springs: Helmers and Howard, 1990. Turner, Stephen. “Settlement as Forgetting.” Pages 20–38 in Quicksands: Foundational Histories in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand. Edited by Klaus Neumann, Nicholas Thomas, and Hilary Ericksen. Sydney: UNSW Press, 1999. ———. “The Indigenous Commons.” http://gold.ac.uk/cultural-studies/calendar/?id= 5436. Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996. Webster, John. “Ethics of Reconciliation,” Pages 109–24 in The Theology of Reconciliation. Edited by Colin E. Gunton. London: T & T Clark, 2003.

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Williams, Rowan. “Faith Communities in a Civil Society—Christian Perspectives.” http://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles. Wright, N. T. Paul and the Faithfulness of God. London: SPCK, 2013.

FIFTEEN From Whiteness Towards Witness Revelation and Repentance as Unbelonging to Empire Andrew Picard

Inquiries into the intersections of theology, whiteness, and race are difficult, not least because theology has been complicit in the development of the modern racial imagination and its sedimented power structures and injustices. 1 Many of the inquiries into theology, whiteness, and race come from those who suffer under the admixture of these collusions and seek to awaken theology to its complicity with racism, whiteness, and injustice. It is much less common for white theologians to think theologically about their whiteness; for the privileged to discuss their privilege; or the powerful to reflect on their employment of power because whiteness, privilege, and power remain invisible to those who wield them. This chapter examines the intersections of theology, whiteness, and race as one whose power and privilege are oftentimes veiled and invisible. Awakening to the confluences of power inherent in theology and whiteness is like awakening from sleep: waking up is not immediate and it means thinking in the midst of slumber, knowing in the midst of unknowing, and learning in the midst of unlearning. 2 It is a postcolonial journey of forgiveness through theological self-criticism in the posture of repentance from sin for the sake of the gospel and the other: from whiteness towards faithful witness. In my own context, this means theological reflection on my inheritance of power and privilege as a Pākehā 3 in Aotearoa New Zealand, which comes at the expense of injustices towards Māori. 4 The first section employs personal narrative and history to explore how racism is inherited and enacted in my own context. This, in 241

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turn, leads to an examination of whiteness and the impact of whiteness upon theology. The second section reads the book of Revelation “as a Laodicean” who is in danger of colluding with beastly imperial power and must heed God’s call to “come out of her.” Included in the call to “come out” is the call to “come” into a new way of being, the way of the Lamb and faithful witness to the Lamb. It is in the context of the journey out of empire and into the way of the Lamb that we can begin to see the contours of a journey from whiteness towards faithful witness. RACISM AND THE SETTLER IMAGINATION In New Zealand’s first Parliament, the member for Motueka and Massacre Bay stood to ask a pointed question: “[was it] the intention of the Government to take any and what steps with reference to the grants of certain lands in the district of Motueka, in the province of Nelson, by his Excellency Sir George Grey to the Bishop of New Zealand, for an industrial school?” 5 The question was pointed because the land he was referring to, known as the Whakarewa Estate, comprised 160 acres of Crown land and 918 acres of Native Reserve land. The Native Reserve land had been given to the Bishop with little knowledge or consent from local Māori, or the Native Trust board who had a fiduciary responsibility to administer the land for the betterment of the beneficial Māori owners. The Native Reserve land was part of the tenths reserve system that the New Zealand Company, the company recognized by the Colonial Office as the Government instrument of colonization in New Zealand, developed as a revision of the waste lands theory for the advancement of Māori. 6 The tenths reserve policy intended to avoid the degrading and segregationist outcomes of earlier Native reservation policies in other colonies and ensure Māori would be an integral part of the proposed settlements. 7 A “portion of land equal to one-tenth of the whole” was to be reserved from the waste lands by the Company and held in trust as an inalienable estate for the future benefit of the chiefs, their families, and heirs, forever. 8 In the New Zealand Company’s vision, the tenths reservations would include urban, suburban, and rural sections, set amongst the settler population, so that “the inferior race” would be preserved from their “state of barbarism” through contact with “civilized men.” 9 The tenths reserve policy assumed the legitimacy of the waste lands theory, which held that Māori only had rights to the lands that they lived on and cultivated according to Pākehā ideals. The rest, which was not occupied or cultivated according to Pākehā ideals, was regarded as waste land that the Government bought cheaply and sold to settlers for huge profits. 10 The profit from the waste lands was then used to fund infrastructure and further immigration, such that “Māori were subsidizing the costs of their colonization.” 11

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The demise of the New Zealand Company in 1850 resulted in the Crown assuming responsibility for the Company’s debts and work, including the promised tenths reserve. In spite of the intentions, the Crown failed to protect the original tenths reserve land in the province of Nelson and Te Tau Ihu Māori were alienated from their land and its benefits. The ongoing process of “adjustments,” reclassifications, public works reclamations, and breaches of the tenths policy alienated Māori from their land in order to satisfy settler demands for land. 12 Government criteria for land tenure meant that Māori were denied personal agency and control of their tenths land and its benefits. Management of the tenths reserve land was given to the Nelson Trust Fund Board, which was made up of Pākehā governors who upheld the interests of Pākehā settlers without consultation with the beneficial Māori owners. 13 The colonial powers did not consider it important to give Māori selfdetermination in relation to their land. Henry Sewell served on the Waste Lands Sub-Committee with the member from Motueka and Massacre Bay and became the architect of the Native Reserves Act, 1856. Sewell stated in his diary that even the reserves really belonged to the Crown, and they would make decisions for the benefit of Māori, “just as if they were infants or lunatics, not having legal capacities.” 14 The racist assumptions of decision makers resulted in the uneconomic use of Māori tenths land for settler interests. Land was offered at an extraordinarily low rate in perpetual leases of twenty-one years that turned the resource into peppercorn rentals. 15 Proceeds from the trust monies were utilized to fund Government infrastructure, projects, administration costs, and salaries instead of the betterment of the beneficial Māori owners. 16 As the Waitangi Tribunal 17 has noted, the Crown’s failure to preserve the tenths reserves, and its mismanagement of the estate, neglected the rights and protections of Nelson Māori as promised in the Treaty of Waitangi. 18 Clementine Fraser states, “In Nelson . . . the Company succeeded in bequeathing to local iwi and the Crown a legacy of lasting confusion over tenths reserves.” 19 More directly, the Waitangi Tribunal concludes that the breaches of the provisions and principles of the Treaty of Waitangi have resulted in the Māori of Te Tau Ihu suffering prejudice to a considerable degree. 20 Waste Lands: The Sacred Trust of Settler Desire The member for Motueka and Massacre Bay was interested in land, and representing the interests of his Pākehā constituents regarding land. He maintained that the question of the waste lands was “beyond all comparison the most important that can occupy the attention of the House.” 21 They were “an almost sacred trust committed to the people of this colony,” and he believed the Government had a crucial role to ensure they were not held in the monopolies of a handful of aristocrats who

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currently occupied them. Instead they were for “the thousands of my fellow-subjects, the sons and daughters of toil and misery who shall hereafter seek in these islands a resting-place and a home.” 22 In Parliament, the member agitated for the control of the waste lands to move from Provincial Councils to central government so that they were removed from local prejudices and interests. The land was not to be exploited by speculators and absentee owners but available for the working settlers, “the men of nerves and sinews, of the strong arm, and the stout heart, to turn that soil, Midas-like, to gold.” 23 He was also elected as a trustee on the Nelson Trust Fund Board and as the Motueka representative on the Nelson Provincial Council. 24 In response to his nomination for the Provincial Council, he stated that the disposal of the waste lands of the province continued to be the most important subject. 25 As he was later to recount, his concern was to enable “really working settlers to obtain land upon the easiest possible terms and to protect them from monopoly.” 26 The member’s interest in land led him to serve on some important sub-committees, such as the committee for settling the New Zealand Company’s debt, the Waste Lands Bill, the Nelson Trust Funds Bill, and he introduced the Native Reserves Bill. The Native Reserves Bill, which later became the Native Reserves Act 1856, vested administration of the reserves land into the hands of the Governor who was empowered to appoint commissioners to manage the lands for the benefit “of the said aboriginal inhabitants over which lands the Native title shall have been extinguished.” 27 Ralph Johnson, in his research on the trust administration of Māori reserves, notes that “the Act made allowance for the permanent alienation of Māori reserve lands with the Governor’s assent.” 28 The committees on which the member served were part of the colonial political machinery that placed the management and administration of Māori reserve lands into the hands of Pākehā landed gentry who used European legal systems to serve settler interests in land acquisition. Upon his return home from Parliament, residents of Motueka held a dinner in honor of the member for Motueka and Massacre Bay. At the dinner, the member recounted the tumultuous events of New Zealand’s first endeavor to form a responsible Government, and his own maneuvers to stifle all attempts to transplant the aristocracies from the Mother Country. The member pronounced that he sought not to set class against class, interest against interest, or race against race, but advance the interests of all his constituents. This was met with loud “hear, hear and cheers” from the audience. 29 The dinner guests at Motueka hoped that the member would live long to represent Motuekans. 30 Unfortunately, this did not come to fruition as the member died of a heart condition just two days after the dissolution of the first Parliament. 31 Despite his intention not to set race against race, the member’s concern for working Pākehā settlers to obtain land easily did set race against race. His advocacy for the needs and rights of working Pākehā settlers

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was matched by his silence about the needs and rights of Motueka and Massacre Bay Māori. The concerns and interests of the Māori constituents of Motueka and Massacre Bay, and their ongoing exploitation, remained invisible to him. Recent research into the conditions of Pākehā whiteness and racism note the invisibility of white privilege and power, especially to those who inherit and employ them. 32 The invisibility of Pākehā power and privilege is a central aspect of racism and whiteness which we will explore in this chapter. The Whakarewa Estates: Church and State Abuses When he asked for a ruling on the Whakarewa land grant, the member for Motueka and Massacre Bay presented a petition from the Nelson Provincial Council to Parliament, protesting Governor Grey’s grant to the Bishop. Whilst the petition did protest the misappropriation of Māori land, the real emphasis of the protest was the gift of 1100 acres of the most valuable land in Motueka to sectarian interests. The Council’s concluding commentary to the petition lay the stress of their concern on an endowment of large tracts of prime public land and private reserves to one church body. This was deemed a serious infringement of religious equality. However, the injustice of Māori losing the little reserves they had left did not feature in the commentary. 33 In response to the member’s question regarding Whakarewa, the house stated that the Government had no intention of interfering with the grants, and “[if] they were illegal, the Supreme Court would be the proper place to try the question.” 34 Following some discussion, the question was “allowed to drop for the present.” 35 The issue of the land lost at Whakarewa was allowed to drop for more than a century, despite relentless protests by Māori and many settlers. 36 When a Commission of Inquiry was appointed in 1869, Māori approached the church seeking the return of the lands. The patronizing reply of the Bishop of Nelson was, I have received your words. They are not new. I have heard it all before. Your lands if you cultivate them produce to you corn and potatoes, Whakarewa produces a school for you. Use the school and the master, for yourselves and for your children, and you will not want more land . . . Every one must have a school and must learn, and you would have to pay for a school if the land did not pay for it. You would be twice as rich as you are, if you used your school . . . . I am content, I am sure it is good for you as it is. All Pakehas pay for their school, Whakarewa pays for you—do not pull two ways, we are in a double canoe and must be well fastened together.” 37

The church’s intention was to lease the surplus land that was granted so that they could fund the school. Initially, Māori were allowed to remain on the land to help break it in. Once this was completed, they were

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asked to leave the land that the Government had reserved for them, to make way for European lessees. 38 The Native School failed. Local Māori did not want to send their children there because Whakarewa exploited their children for farm labor instead of education; they did not want their children boarding away from home in Motueka; and, more importantly, local Māori did not want to send their children to that school and give tacit acquiescence to the process of land alienation. 39 Yet still the church continued to refuse to return the land. Māori petitions and deputations to the Government about Whakarewa continued unabated for over 100 years. In the 1980s, the church tried to sell the land of the Whakarewa Estates, causing intense reaction from Māori and many Pākehā. Finally, in 1993, after a one hundred and thirty-seven-year battle, the land was finally returned to its rightful Māori owners. 40 I recount this story because it raises issues of systemic Pākehā racism and whiteness that are both ecclesial and personal. It is an ecclesial story that unmasks the church’s entrenchment in, and perpetuation of, colonial powers. It is also a personal story because I am a direct descendant of Alfred Christopher Picard, the member for Motueka and Massacre Bay. As a church theologian and a direct descendant of Alfred Christopher Picard, this narrative, and the wider historical realities of colonization, raise questions about my own inheritance of, participation in, and perpetuation of racism. Such questions are difficult as well as deeply disturbing. They are deeply disturbing because they engender feelings of shame, guilt, and exposure. And, such questions are difficult because my own privilege blinds me to the issues. This chapter does not seek to induce white guilt and shame, although these are not discounted, but attempts to encourage and engage theological self-criticism on whiteness within the context of repentance. Racism and the Invisibility of Whiteness in Aotearoa New Zealand Pākehā identity is aligned with the dominance and pervasive invisibility of whiteness. Margaret Mitcalfe notes that the “dominance of whiteness, in western discursive environments and in the subject positions they offer to whites, particularly through mainstream media, is often invisible to white people, such as Pākehā.” 41 In the environment of whiteness, Pākehā identity is often elusive and difficult to know because “the power of being Pākehā eludes Pākehā awareness.” 42 When the power of whiteness is unveiled, the white majority often denies the consequences, but these remain obvious to all other minorities. Even those of the Pākehā majority who, through education or relationships, are aware of issues of racism and Māori disadvantage, struggle to acknowledge the corollary of Pākehā privilege. 43 The lack of engagement with, and acknowledgment of, the issues of social power and privilege reinforce ra-

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cism as much as individual acts of prejudice. 44 Knowledge and acknowledgment of the disadvantages that Māori face is important, but there remains an equally important task of engagement and acknowledgment of the advantages that Pākehā enjoy through the hidden power of whiteness. 45 The myth of the natural inferiority of Māori was deeply ingrained in the racial condition in which I grew up. Ani Mikaere, a Māori lawyer and philosopher, contends that such oppressor-generated myths are necessary for the colonizers to uphold a particular image of the colonized and give conceptual justification for their conduct towards indigenous people. The myth of the natural inferiority of Māori results in the formal and informal denigration and exculturation of Māori language, culture, customs, and fields of knowledge across New Zealand society. 46 In the racial context of Pākehā whiteness, the myth of the natural inferiority of Māori and the natural superiority of Pākehā surrounds me, but remains invisible to me. Growing up, I imbibed and perpetuated the myth of the natural inferiority of Māori through casually racist jokes, poems, songs, and comments from friends, family, and teachers. When I played cricket, there were kangaroo court fine sessions after the game in which Māori players were automatically fined $2 and told “you know why.” The implied reason was that they were Māori playing in a colonial sport that has broadly remained the domain of settler mythologies. 47 As a young boy, I learnt racist poems, one of which remains with me and captures the racist assumptions of white privilege that formed my social imaginary: I wish I was a Māori Oh what a lovely life. Ten kids on social welfare And a big fat lazy wife. I'd live in state-owned houses No mortgages to pay. A goat to keep the grass down And in the pub all day . . . 48

When I read this racist poem in a class that I teach on culture, I ask students if they have heard it before. Invariably, I find that there is at least one person who is familiar with it. One Samoan student told me that he heard the poem retold by an elder in his church during a church eldership meeting in which he was the only non-white. As these examples show, colonization is not merely a historical reality, but a contemporary reality that is enshrined in the sedimented structures of power and the unjust dynamics of settler relations with indigenous peoples. 49 The myth of the natural inferiority of Māori is a powerful, pervasive, and prevailing myth that continues to shape Aotearoa New Zealand. It not only constructs Māori as naturally inferior, it constructs Pākehā as the dominant identity and the measure of normativity. In history, the ideo-

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logical dominance of Pākehā was aligned with institutional dominance in Government, education, church, and society to enshrine systemic white privilege. Systemic whiteness rewards white ideologies and values so that white people enjoy social, cultural, and institutional advantages that others do not have. This privilege gives white people significant social capital, which opens up to yet further privilege. 50 Systemic whiteness extends beyond individuals to include systems and structures, such as the church and the discipline of theology. Postcolonialism and Whiteness Attempts at theological self-criticism bring with them postcolonial possibilities as well as colonial risks. One such colonial risk is the attempt to self-exonerate from the status of colonizer by distancing oneself from “them” or “those” Pākehā “over there” or “back then.” Strategies of selfredemption are avoidance mechanisms through which settler subjects employ their privilege to distance themselves from complicity in the colonial project. 51 The desire for self-redemption continues the process of colonization which objectify Māori for Pākehā ends. Quick recourses to redemption attempt to reclothe one’s nakedness and avoid the uncomfortable subject position of privilege in the systemic inequalities of the colonial project. Avril Bell notes that it is too soon for redemption when the inequalities of the colonial project are still so glaringly obvious in socio-economic, health, and incarceration statistics, as well as the underrepresentation of Māori in various forms of political participation. More importantly for this chapter, Bell argues, “[it] is too soon for redemption when settler peoples have not faced up to their own positions of privilege and dominance and how these have been secured at the expense of indigenous peoples.” 52 Bell’s comments about the colonizing risks embedded within postcolonial possibilities highlight the need for conceptual clarity when employing the term postcolonialism. Postcolonialism does not denote a subject position after colonization, but amidst colonization. Margaret Mitcalfe, in her exploration of postcolonial Pākehā identity, suggests that postcolonialism is an ethical and political—and theological—“acknowledgement of and concern about the ongoing consequences of colonization.” 53 Therefore, thinking theologically in the midst of colonization is not merely the responsibility of minority people to pursue through their own private labors in indigenous theological studies. Whilst it is crucially important to empower indigenous theological inquiry by indigenous people, the weight of the task of postcolonial reflection should not be carried solely by indigenous theologians. The questions raised by postcolonial criticisms strike at the heart of theology and require shared responsibility, deep collaboration, and courageous listening by all who seek to address the ongoing legacy of racism in the church. 54 Addressing the legacy of racism in the church calls theologians

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of dominant cultures to address their own racism in the posture of repentance. Repentance stands at the heart of forgiveness, especially for those, such as myself, who have inherited, participated in, and perpetuated racism. The extent of my own entanglement with racist systems and structures is not obvious to me and it requires careful and thoughtful examination in the mode of repentance as resistance from privilege, power, and mastery. As Mark Brett highlights in his work on postcolonial theology, the starting point is “the advocacy of practices of repentance that not only confess to the collusion of Christianity and colonialism but, as a consequence, resolutely resist new temptations to exercise mastery over others.” 55 THEOLOGY AND REPENTANCE AS UNBELONGING James Cone speaks to the dominant white voice in theology and asks, “why do white theologians ignore racism?” 56 Cone contends that few white theologians bother to address the moral evil of racism, and the relative silence of theologians on the topic stands in contrast to other disciplines. In his study of race, J. Kameron Carter notes that there are diverse and important engagements with race and racism across various disciplines, and yet “one is hard-pressed to find an adequate theological account of the modern problem of race.” 57 The relative silence of mainstream theology on the topic of race is even more urgent once we acknowledge the church’s complicity in contemporary issues of racism. Willie Jennings alerts us to the church’s sordidly complicated history with race and highlights the church’s difficulty to confront, discuss, and think through the issues of race. “The central reason for our difficulty is that the Western Church is yet to grasp fully its deep involvement in the formation of the modern racial condition.” 58 The church is deeply complicit in the colonial project, and its accounts of land, race, and anthropology gave theological legitimation to the shape of the colonial social imagination. 59 The church must not only contend with its complicity in racism, it must also contend with its theological generation and legitimation of a racist social imagination. Jennings maintains that the racial imagination, as it developed in colonial Christianity, upheld a hermeneutical strategy that encouraged the church to read reality “as an Israelite” and view indigenous people “as Gentiles.” 60 Brett, drawing on Jennings’ work, shows how this hermeneutical strategy positioned the colonial world as Israel, conquering the new world, with tragic consequences. 61 By indwelling the subject position of Israelites, the church lost the opportunity to read reality as Gentiles and learn to receive from indigenous peoples. Instead, the church’s hermeneutical strategy locked these rela-

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tionships into an unequal power dynamic in which the new world was known by ordering it according to the old world. 62 In its expansion into unknown lands, the church sought to bring the unknown world inside the known world in such a way that salvation rendered the particularity of indigenous identities irrelevant in the context of whiteness. “These aspects of their identity were rendered irrelevant through a perspective on the gospel that announced them as God’s property and bound them to an identification matrix that flowed from sinner to saint, reprobate to elect, and irredeemable to redeemed.” 63 As part of the racial designation in colonial expansion, lighter skin was deemed more attractive than darker skin which made way for comparative analysis of human difference that rendered people of the new world inferior to those of the old world. 64 Colonial readings of Genesis gave theological sanction to the doctrine of terra nullius and colonial assumptions about waste lands. 65 The colonial imagination assumed that humans were impermanent individuals whose identity was separable from land, people, place, customs, and language, and therefore able to be transplanted elsewhere. 66 Land was viewed as an inanimate object, unrelated to people’s identities and histories, passively awaiting the productive energies of settler enterprise. Any contemporary theological engagement with the issues of racism must begin with the acknowledgment that theology’s accounts of race, humanity, land, and creation, exploited Scripture in service of colonial power. These theologies, and their social consequences, remain part of the racist legacy of colonialism that needs to be overcome by the renewal of theology itself. 67 Yet, how does theology renew itself when theology’s own complicity and collusion with racism remains veiled? Sarah Coakley has recently turned her attention to the question of race and theology. Coakley offers an interdisciplinary methodological approach that awakens the church to examine its own veiled racism. Such an interdisciplinary approach is necessary when theology examines the intersectional entanglements of complex issues such as gender and race. 68 Racism is a complex and covert topic for the church, and it needs to investigate every level and type of human evidence so that the church may begin to “plumb the depths of its own ‘darkness.’” 69 Coakley seeks a theological answer to the racial problem of theology’s own making. “What has been unconsciously created here by Christian culture (“race” in modern Christian mode) must somehow now be undone by Christianity.” 70 Such a methodological journey is an attempt by the church to know in the dark; to know in the midst of its own darkness and sin. The journey is a purgative and painful one; an exodus journey out of one’s own racism and imperialism. Unlike quests for self-redemption and self-purgation, knowing in the dark is not an individualized attempt to absolve oneself from the status of colonizer. Instead, it is motivated externally by the divine command

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for the church to repent and learn to bear faithful witness to God. In examining whiteness and racism, the following section engages the book of Revelation and its demand that the privileged and powerful repent and unbelong to imperialism for the sake of their loyalty to Jesus Christ. Revelation’s command for faithfulness requires repentance through unbelonging to imperialism, and it offers a theological framework to explore the postcolonial journey from whiteness towards witness. FROM WHITENESS TOWARDS WITNESS: REVELATION AND REPENTANCE AS RESISTANCE AND UNBELONGING TO EMPIRE Revelation is resistance literature. Richard Bauckham contends that Revelation is the most powerful piece of political resistance literature from the period of the early Empire. 71 Likewise, David deSilva maintains that it is “a first-century specimen of (post)colonial resistance literature” that presents a “counterhegemonic discourse” to the violent silencing of hidden and neglected voices. 72 John most likely writes from the island of Patmos where he is relegated by the Roman Empire for promoting seditious superstitions. 73 John writes to seven churches in Asia Minor to persuade them to remain loyal to Jesus Christ in the midst of the Roman Empire. The faithful witness of Christians is under threat by the dual forces of persecution from and seduction to the Roman Empire. John articulates a call to loyalty to Jesus Christ in the face of Roman imperialism and its demands to allegiance. In doing so, John employs an antiimperial strategy of resistance and endurance as a form of worship to Jesus Christ in the midst of the empire because he sees a fundamental clash between the claims of Rome and the claims of the Christian faith. 74 In his apocalypse, John seeks “to foster critical distance from Roman imperial ideology and from the economic, social, and political practices of Roman imperialism.” 75 Revelation offers a form of “deviant knowledge,” 76 which subverts the claims of Roman imperialism by satirizing the everyday symbols, signs, codes, rituals and social structures of Roman imperial mythology in the light of Jesus Christ. 77 Revelation’s unveiling of the empire enables its readers to see beyond the Roman imperial propaganda by setting ordinary life in the Roman Empire in relation to the ultimate reality of God and the Lamb. 78 As resistance literature, Revelation is written from the underside of history. John writes from the perspective of banishment to an audience where many are suffering under imperial oppression as a result of their witness to Christ and refusal to acknowledge the claims of the empire. Whilst persecution is not widespread, Antipas has been killed, the martyrs are crying out, and there is threat of further violence. 79 Allan Boesak maintains that those who do not know suffering through oppression will struggle to understand the prophet’s message from Patmos. 80 It is those

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who suffer and struggle for justice from oppressive powers who can feel John’s anger and understand the book’s call to active resistance and demands for change. Revelation reveals God to be the God of the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed, who takes up their cause to redeem them from oppression and violence. 81 The unjust suffering of “God’s little people” 82 does not escape God’s eye, and God will hold the destroyers of the earth to account and vanquish their violent hegemonies. Boesak is certainly correct to suggest that Revelation is written by and for those suffering under oppression. Revelation is written to those who are suffering under the weight of oppression, but, as Harry Maier rightly notes, “this is only half of Revelation’s story.” 83 Revelation is also written to those who are self-satisfied and successful as a result of colluding with the empire. “The line separating the idolatrous from the faithful is drawn not around the churches but through their center.” 84 Two of the churches receive condemnation in place of commendation, and three more of the churches receive warning and rebuke from the risen Christ. These churches receive criticism and commands to repent and be faithful witnesses who are loyal to Christ. It is this critical discourse that opens up a space for the church to know in the dark; the journey of critical selfreflection in the midst of one’s own sin. Knowing in the dark is the purgative journey of self-critique, realignment, and disinclination from the advantages of privilege and power for the sake of loyalty to Christ. 85 Reading as Laodiceans The context from which we read Revelation determines its message not only because where we stand determines what we see, but also because reading as a Laodicean is different from reading as a Philadelphian. 86 Laodiceans read as those who are in danger of colluding with beastly powers and losing their witness to Christ. Maier reflects on his own subject position and its advantages and concludes that as a first-world male of privilege, he must read as a Laodicean. 87 In the following section, we will employ Maier’s hermeneutic of “reading as a Laodicean,” which resonates with Jennings’ call to read reality “as Gentiles.” Reading as Laodiceans allows us to examine Revelation’s call to repentance through resistance and unbelonging to empire. This hermeneutical strategy opens biblical vistas on the persistent journey of repentance that is necessary if one’s collusions with imperial systems are to be unveiled and exposed by the light of Christ. Revelation’s command for God’s people to “come out” of Babylon (18:4) is set in the context of the judgment and destruction of Rome and its imperial systems. As such, it offers some insights for postcolonial repentance and unbelonging to imperialism that destabilizes whiteness and offers an anti-imperial identity formed in the wilderness by “Lamb Power.”

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Reading as a Laodicean means reading as one who is in danger of colluding with beastly powers, and recognizing that this danger, like whiteness, remains invisible to us. Laodiceans declare that they are rich and “have become wealthy” and do not need anything (3:17). John only uses πλουτέω (rich) and its cognates (3:17, 18; 18:3, 15, 19) in relation to the wealth of the Laodiceans and the wealth of the merchants of Rome. This suggests that, like the merchants of Rome (18:3, 15, 19), the Laodiceans have become wealthy as a result of partaking in the Roman commercial system. 88 The Laodiceans’ self-satisfied declaration of independence, “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing” (3:17), mirrors Rome’s threefold self-glorification in which she says in her heart, “I rule as a queen, I am no widow, and I will never see grief” (18:7). 89 However, the Laodicean enchantment with Roman imperialism is veiled to their eyes, and it is Christ who reveals the true reality of the world around them and their position within it (“you do not realize,” 3:17). As Craig Koester suggests, “Christ knows the Laodiceans, but they do not know themselves.” 90 Instead of being rich, prosperous, and in need of nothing, Christ reveals that the Laodiceans are in fact wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked (3:17). Their self-deception is exposed and the shame of their nakedness is publicly pronounced to the six sister churches when the apocalypse is read aloud. 91 As the true and faithful witness, Jesus Christ strips bare the Laodicean blindness to privilege, and reveals a crisis in the church’s witness. Christ threatens to spew the Laodiceans out, and demands that they be earnest and repent from their accommodation to imperialism and cleave to him. Reading as a Laodicean requires us to listen to the truth that God and others tell about us so that we may repent and give our allegiance to Jesus Christ. Christ strips the Laodiceans naked, and their repentance does not come in the form of self-redemptive attempts to reclothe themselves through minimization or self-exoneration. Attempts to reclothe nakedness, whether Laodicean self-reliance or postcolonial self-exoneration, are avoidance mechanisms that shelter us from Christ’s call to repent and give allegiance to him alone. 92 The Laodiceans must repent and find their true wealth and identity in Jesus Christ. It is by repenting and turning to Christ that Laodiceans are given sight to see reality rightly and heed the call for repentance (3:18). Christ’s command to repent is not that of an aloof overlord, but comes from his holy love: “I reprove and discipline those whom I love” (3:19). Christ positions himself as a visitor outside the Laodicean congregation who seeks hospitality and the renewal of relationship with his people. It is by repenting and giving their loyalty to Christ that the Laodiceans will conquer and share in the promise of seeing God face to face. 93 Seeing God face to face requires that the Laodiceans “come out” of Babylon (Rome) and “come into” the New Jerusalem.

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A Tale of Two Cities: Fact-Checking Roman Imperialism John tells a tale of two cities to repel readers away from Babylon (Rome) and attract them to the New Jerusalem. John signals their literary and symbolic pairing by paralleling the angelic introductions and their distinct character (see table 15.1)—one is a great prostitute and the other is a bride, the wife of the Lamb. 94 In John’s rhetorical strategy, the pairing employs symbolic opposites and strong binaries to challenge the dominant discourse of the Roman Empire and break the church’s enchantment with Roman ideology. 95 Readers are invited to compare the two cities and take heed of John’s disruption of Rome’s utopian civic ideals. 96

Table 15.1.

Two Women in Revelation

Babylon

New Jerusalem

Καὶ ἦλθεν εἷς ἐκ τῶν ἑπτὰ ἀγγέλων τῶν ἐχόντων τὰς ἑπτὰ φιάλας καὶ ἐλάλησεν μετʼ ἐμοῦ λέγων· δεῦρο, δείξω σοι τὸ κρίμα τῆς πόρνης τῆς μεγάλης τῆς καθημένης ἐπὶ ὑδάτων πολλῶν

Καὶ ἦλθεν εἷς ἐκ τῶν ἑπτὰ ἀγγέλων τῶν ἐχόντων τὰς ἑπτὰ φιάλας τῶν γεμόντων τῶν ἑπτὰ πληγῶν τῶν ἐσχάτων καὶ ἐλάλησεν μετʼ ἐμοῦ λέγων· δεῦρο, δείξω σοι τὴν νύμφην τὴν γυναῖκα τοῦ ἀρνίου.

Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, “Come, I will show you the judgment of the great whore who is seated on many waters.” (17:1)

Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues came and said to me, “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb.” (21:9)

Babylon’s splendor from exploiting the nations (17:4; 18:12–13, 16).

Her splendor is the glory of God (21:11–21).

Babylon deceives and corrupts the nations (17:2; 18:3, 23; 19:2).

The nations walk by her light, which is the glory of God (21:24).

Babylon rules over the kings of the earth (17:18).

The kings of the earth bring their glory into her (21:24).

Babylon’s luxurious wealth is extorted from all the nations (18:12–17).

People bring the glory and honor of the nations into her (21:26).

Babylon is a city of abominations, impurities and deceptions (17:4, 5; 18:23).

A city where uncleanness, abomination and falsehood are excluded (21:27).

Babylon’s wine makes the nations drunk (17:2; 18:3).

The water of life and the tree of life for the healing of the nations (21:6; 22:1–2).

Babylon known for the blood of slaughter (17:6; 18:24).

Known for life and healing (22:1–2).

God’s people are called to come out of Babylon (18:4).

God’s people are called to enter into the New Jerusalem (22:14).

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Rome imagines herself to be the eternal city and she is depicted on coins and statues as a goddess, Roma Aeterna. A first century Roman coin shows Rome as a noblewoman draped in battle dress, holding a Roman short sword whilst reclining on the seven hills of Rome with her foot stretched out over the Tiber River. “Her appearance is one of strength and sobriety.” 97 In Revelation 17, John’s exposé reveals Roman self-imagery to be fake news that peddles alternative facts. Instead of being a noblewoman, Rome is exposed as an indulgent harlot, dressed in opulent clothes and jewelry that her clients have given to her. Instead of reclining over the seven hills, she rides upon the back of the beastly powers of imperialism that dominate the world. She appears in a drunken stupor from her bloodlust, and the sword in her hand is replaced by a golden cup that is not filled with fine wine, but the vile sewage of her violence and immorality. 98 She is not the eternal city and benefactor of Roman imperial privileges, she is “Babylon the Great, mother of whores and of earth’s abominations” (17:5). 99 John’s exposé of Rome is an attempt to evoke revulsion amongst those who were enchanted by her spell. She is the manifestation of the great city of Babylon, which violently lorded over its kingdoms, destroyed Jerusalem, and captured its citizens into exile. Revelation 18 is set in the context of a divine courtroom in which God judges Rome for her hegemonic inequities and systemic injustices. The judgment encompasses all the political, social, and economic oppression, violence, and slavery that results from her imperialistic obsession for power, luxury, and wealth. 100 Those who partner with and prosper from Rome’s oppressive regime, the kings and merchants of the earth and the shipmasters, seafarers, and sailors, mourn at her funeral, whilst God commands God’s people to “come out of her” (18:4). If God’s people are to unbelong to Babylon, they need somewhere to go, another city to belong to. 101 The New Jerusalem is what Babylon is not―the true city of God. John’s tale of two cities contrasts Babylon with the New Jerusalem to shape the commitments of his readers by evoking revulsion from Rome and appeal to the New Jerusalem. The New Jerusalem draws upon biblical imagery as well as Graeco-Roman civic ideals to give a positive incentive for God’s people to remain faithful to the Lamb, as it is this city that holds the future promise of life with God. 102 This city is founded upon a different power structure than Rome; it is governed by God and the slain, but living, Lamb. However, the Laodiceans cannot geographically relocate to the New Jerusalem, and it remains an eschatological hope that reorients their current reality. The command for the Lamb’s followers to “come out” reverberates the exodus motif that John utilizes in Revelation. It is a call to unbelong to Roman imperialism and reorient towards the New Jerusalem; God’s true city and true reality. It is a call for Laodiceans to follow the Lamb on an exodus journey out of the empire. But, it is a

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journey out that goes nowhere, as it is a spiritual journey of repentance that remains within the heart of the empire. An Exodus Out of Empire Revelation’s exodus calls Laodiceans to repentance through unbelonging to imperialism. Barbara Rossing contends that the exodus motif provides an important hermeneutical key for interpreting Revelation. Like the Israelites, God calls the church to come out of empire and injustice, and just as Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, the Lamb leads the church on a journey of unbelonging to empire and violence. 103 “The Lamb is leading us on an exodus out of the heart of empire, out of the heart of addiction to violence, greed, fear, an unjust lifestyle or whatever holds each of us most captive.” 104 The exodus journey is a journey of unbelonging to imperialism. It is a journey out of the heart of the empire, but it is a journey that goes nowhere. The church does not physically leave Babylon and take up residence in an alternative location because the journey towards the New Jerusalem is spiritual and political, not geographical. 105 Revelation does not offer its readers an alternative location out of the empire, it offers an alternative orientation within the empire―living by “Lamb Power” instead of imperial power. For Laodiceans, it is through this purgative journey that they begin, as Coakley suggests, to know in the dark. The exodus out of empire is a purgative journey in which the hidden and veiled collusions with imperialism are exposed, and the Lamb leads the Laodiceans on a journey towards faithful witness. This journey of faithful witness goes into a wilderness that is found at the heart of the empire when the Laodiceans are faithful to Christ. In Revelation 12, John sets the church’s resistance against imperialism in cosmic light as resistance against satanic forces which seek to devour God’s people. On earth, the people of God struggle against the dragon who is cast to earth after it is defeated by God’s angelic army. The dragon is God’s foe and the nemesis of the people of God. But the dragon is a vanquished foe who, despite appearances on earth, has already been defeated. The decisive battle has already been won through the Lamb’s victory on the cross, and the dragon’s persecution of the church is that of a spiteful conquered foe whose time is short. John depicts the people of God as a cosmic Queen (12:1-2) whose current reality belies her identity. On earth, she is pursued by the dragon into the wilderness; on earth she is a refugee Queen. 106 Like Israel in the wilderness, the refugee Queen is beset by trials, suffering, and persecution, and prone to seductions. 107 But God prepares, nourishes, and protects her in the wilderness for a time, times, and half a time (three and a half years). John’s references to three and a half derive from Daniel 7:25 and 12:7, and, in John’s symbolic universe, denote a

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broken seven―a period of persecution. James Resseguie suggests that three and a half is an in-between space like the wilderness space between captivity in Egypt and arrival in the promised land. Wilderness space is neither here (Babylon) nor there (New Jerusalem), it is in-between time. 108 In this in-between wilderness time, the refugee Queen conquers Satan by the blood of the Lamb and the word of her testimony. The victory of the refugee Queen comes through her faithful witness to the way of the Lamb that resists the temptation to conquer by any means other than the cross of Christ. From Whiteness Towards Faithful Witness: Conquering by Lamb Power Victory in Revelation involves unbelonging to imperialism and belonging to the Lamb and the way of the Lamb. Each of the churches are offered a pathway to victory through faithfulness to the Lamb against the empire and the promise of sharing in God’s kingdom (2:7; 2:11; 2:17; 2:28; 3:5; 3:12; 3:21). It is through radical faithfulness to the Lamb that the church is promised victory, but it is a victory shaped after the way of Lamb Power and not the way of imperial power. Revelation, as Barbara Rossing argues, offers contrasting theologies of victory―victory by imperial power is set against victory by Lamb Power. John contrasts the Roman ideology of conquest with the victory of the Lamb to critique Roman imperialism and offer a faithful form of overcoming (see table 15.2). Rome’s imperial ideology not only celebrated victory, it worshipped victory. 109 Rome personified Victory as a winged goddess (Victoria in Latin, or Nikē in Greek), and emblazoned her on Roman coins, statues, flags, and friezes. These forms of imperial propaganda remind the population of Rome’s military dominance that extends Roman rule and makes peace (Pax Romana) and prosperity possible. However, John exposes these sanitized images and shows that Rome’s victories are a result of its penchant for violence and greed. In Revelation 6, the first of the seven seals are opened and the cosmic harmony seen in heaven in Revelation 4 and 5 is shattered by the introduction of four horsemen who unleash their hellish thirst for conquest upon the earth. 110 The first rider comes out “conquering, and to conquer” (ἐξῆλθεν νικῶν καὶ ἵνα νικήσῃ (6:2)). This rider is followed by three other riders whose colors and actions reveal the logical direction that imperial conquests head: conquest, war, economic inequality and famine, and death. The four horsemen, David Barr reminds us, are not merely a commentary on the Roman Empire, but “a logical sequence, often repeated in history even up to our own time.” 111 The rider of the white horse in 6:2 is a counterfeit parody of Christ the true conqueror in 19:11, and he wreaks havoc upon the earth through his thirst for imperial conquest. This counterfeit form of victory is exposed in Revelation 19:11–16, when the

258 Table 15.2.

Andrew Picard Victory in Revelation

Victory through Imperial Power

Victory through Lamb Power

Its rider had a bow; a crown was given to him, and he came out conquering and to conquer (ἐξῆλθεν νικῶν καὶ ἵνα νικήσῃ (6:2)).

Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered (ἐνίκησεν), so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals (5:5).

When they have finished their testimony, the beast that comes up from the bottomless pit will make war on them and conquer (νικήσει) them and kill them (11:7).

But they have conquered (ἐνίκησαν) him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they did not cling to life even in the face of death (12:11).

Also it was allowed to make war on the saints and to conquer (νικῆσαι) them (13:7).

And I saw what appeared to be a sea of glass mixed with fire, and those who had conquered (νικῶντας) the beast and its image and the number of its name, standing beside the sea of glass with harps of God in their hands (15:2). These are united in yielding their power and authority to the beast; they will make war on the Lamb, and the Lamb will conquer (νικήσει) them, for he is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those with him are called and chosen and faithful (17:13–14). Those who conquer (ὁ νικῶν) will inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children (21:7).

Lamb appears in true victory. The Lamb appears as the antithesis of Roman imperial conquest. He wears robes that are dyed in blood before any battle has begun, and the blood is not the blood of slaughter but his own blood which was shed to win the decisive victory on the cross. “Revelation is more a book about terror defeated than terror inflicted.” 112 Revelation demythologizes the imagery of holy war and remythologizes the image of the warrior through the image of the suffering Savior “so that the death of the warrior and not some later battle is the crucial event.” 113 Christ is not replicating Roman patterns of victory, because his victory is of a different kind. 114 The rider of the second horse appears in red and takes peace from the earth. Red symbolizes the color of slaughter and the image exposes the fraudulent ideals of the Pax Romana. The imperialistic thirst for conquest, no matter which era, leads to war and slaughter. The third rider appears in black holding commercial scales to weigh the exorbitant costs of grain that result from famine. The unjust economic forces mean that a person’s daily wage is committed solely to food. The final rider appears in pale

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green and represents death. Whilst the wealthy may avoid the full impact of grain shortage, the outbreak of infectious diseases would strike all classes. 115 The vision of the chaos of imperial conquest employs divine passives (6:2, 4, 8) to give an insight into what would happen if God lifted his loving hand from creation and allowed these forces to go the way they are determined to go. 116 For the complacent Laodiceans, this would unsettle their security in the reigning economic and social order. In place of conquest through imperial violence, John gives the churches an alternative vision of conquering―the way of Lamb Power. In the heavenly vision of chapters 4 and 5, John weeps when no one is found worthy of opening the scroll of God’s salvation and judgment. He is told not to weep, but to “behold” that the messianic Davidic King, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered (ἐνίκησεν (5:5)). However, when John turns and looks he finds a Lamb that has been slaughtered. What John sees interprets what he hears; the mighty conqueror is the slain Lamb. 117 The divine hero is depicted as a vulnerable victim of imperial conquest who overcomes imperialism by a different form of conquering. The Roman ideology of victory through violence is now subverted by the true victory of the Lamb on the cross. “Christ is worthy because he conquers in a completely different way from the powers of this world.” 118 The Lamb’s victory comes through faithfulness to God that refuses to participate in beastly imperial powers, even to the point of death by beastly violence. The cross is a victory of Lamb Power over imperial power because Christ refuses to employ imperial power and its recourse to violence. Lamb theology permeates the message of Revelation, and the followers of the Lamb are also called to conquer by their faithful witness to Christ’s victory and Lamb Power. 119 The exodus from empire is a fundamental struggle for Laodiceans to resist and reject imperial power and embrace Lamb Power for the sake of faithful witness to God. Faithful Witness as Truth Telling: Active Resistance for Laodiceans Faithful witness is the church’s calling, a political and theological calling and gift. The church is called to tell the truth about the empire and the world’s true reality by giving faithful testimony about Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the true and faithful witness who goes ahead of the church to tell the truth about the empire and all reality. Where the beasts of chapters 11 and 13 “make war and conquer” (13:7), the followers of the Lamb overcome these aggressions by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony (12:11). 120 The image of witness comes from the courtroom context, and conveys the idea of putting imperialism and its injustices on trial and telling the truth about it. 121 Witness is a form of active resistance that ensures the call to patient endurance is not understood as passivity. 122 John’s witness

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code exhorts the churches to resist the seduction of the empire, tell the truth about the empire, and worship Jesus Christ the Lord. 123 If witness is active resistance and truth telling about imperialism, then it includes the courage for Laodiceans to tell the truth about themselves and their collusions with imperialism as a form of active resistance. Telling the truth about ourselves is not an innate ability, as Laodiceans are unable to tell the truth about themselves. Instead, it is a painful gift given by Christ as the call to repentance through active resistance and unbelonging to imperialism and its privileges. In order to tell the truth and actively resist imperialism, Laodiceans will need to listen carefully to what God and others have to say about us. In her research on postcolonial Pākehā identity, Mitcalfe shows that awareness of privilege and resistance are an important part of the repertoire her participants employed in identification. 124 However, distancing from privilege is not as simple as it may seem. Whilst some Pākehā are able to note the existence of white privilege, it remains more difficult to note how we as individuals are privileged by whiteness. 125 One significant strategy that enables us to see our own privilege and begin to resist the temptations to mastery is by waking up to history. It is through careful and detailed engagement with reality that Laodiceans begin to hear what God and others might have to say about us. It is through waking up to history that we begin to learn some of the depths and contours of our entanglements with imperialistic systems like racism. Waking up to history is a deliberate strategy of resistance from the colonizer’s call to “forgive and forget” in order that we might move forward as “one big, happy, amnesic family.” 126 The call to forgetfulness, or mis-remembering, is an enactment of white privilege that seeks to whitewash history and perpetuate myths that ease the Laodicean conscience. Before anyone can proffer the illusion of forgetfulness, something must be rightly remembered and acknowledged. Ani Mikaere rightly states that such forgetfulness and mis-remembering dishonors those who have resisted imperialism and suffered under its oppression. 127 As the Waitangi Tribunal has stated, attempts to remove prejudice and prevent the recurrence of oppression require a reconciliation achieved in fact and not fiction. 128 Waking up to history situates Pākehā in the particular context of Aotearoa, and accepts the identity that is given by Māori. Pākehā are only Pākehā as a result of their relation to Māori, and acceptance of this identifier includes a refusal to embrace an abstract and homogenized European identity. 129 Europeans living in Melbourne, New York, or London do not consider themselves to be Pākehā, and there is nowhere else in the world to be Pākehā but in Aotearoa New Zealand and in relation to Māori. Yet the identity of Pākehā is a colonizing identity, and waking up to history positions Pākehā repentance, unbelonging, and witness in the context of the specific issues and structures of unjust power and privilege

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in Aotearoa New Zealand. This accords with the exodus journey that Laodiceans are offered by the Lamb―an exodus out of imperialism that remains within the heart of the empire. The exodus out of imperialism does not permit Pākehā to escape the empire, but demands a deeper engagement with our darkness in the midst of the empire. The exodus journey in the heart of the empire prevents Pākehā whiteness from escaping the specific collusions and privileges in which it is entangled. It is an exodus that goes nowhere. Instead of escape, Pākehā whiteness is offered an alternative orientation within imperialism, not an alternative location. The exodus journey offers Laodiceans the purgative possibilities of the wilderness, the in-between time, where we learn to know in the dark. It is as we learn to face the details of our own darkness and racism that we can begin to resist its temptations to mastery and repent from our collusions with its power and privilege. Faithful witness is found in the wilderness, a place of purification, nurture, and protection. The exodus out of empire is not found in escaping reality but by deep engagement with reality, so that we can learn the truth about it in relation to God and one another, no matter how disturbing that may be. It is in the wilderness, in the darkness, that we learn to tell the truth about ourselves, the empire, and God. As we embrace the wilderness that is found in leaving imperialism’s privilege and power, we embrace the call to move from whiteness towards faithful witness to Christ. NOTES 1. Willie James Jennings, The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010). See also Willie James Jennings, “Theology and Race,” in The Routledge Companion to Modern Christian Thought, eds. Chad Meister and James Beilby (London and New York: Routledge, 2013), 783–94. 2. For an extended account of apophatic relationality and unknowingness, see Andrew Picard, “‘On the Way’ and ‘In the Fray’ in Aotearoa: A Pākehā’s Covenantal Reflections from a Treaty People,” Pacific Journal of Baptist Research 11 (2016): 54–57. 3. Pākehā refers to a person of European descent living in Aotearoa. Māori Dictionary, “Pākehā,” http://maoridictionary.co.nz. 4. Māori refers to an indigenous person of Aotearoa New Zealand. Māori Dictionary, “Māori,” http://maoridictionary.co.nz. 5. New Zealand Parliamentary Debates: Legislative Council and the House of Representatives, 1854 and 1855, Thursday July 27, 249. 6. Hilary and John Mitchell, Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka: A History of Māori of Nelson and Marlborough. Volume 1: Te Tangata me Te Whenua – The People and the Land (Wellington: Huia, 2004), 376. The 918 acres was made up of 429 acres from the Tenths Reserves and 489 acres from the Occupied Reserves. 7. R. L. Jellicoe, “Report on Native Reserves in Wellington and Nelson under the Control of the Native Trustee,” in Appendices to the Journals of the House of Representatives (AJHR), 26 March 1929, G-1, 5. See also R. L. Jellicoe, The New Zealand Company’s Native Reserves. Compiled from Parliamentary Papers, Departmental Documents, and other Authentic Sources of Information (Wellington: Government Printer, 1930), 8–9 and Wai 785, Vol. 2, 794.

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8. “New Zealand Company Instructions to Colonel Wakefield, Principal Agent of the Company,” May 1839, cited in Ralph Johnson, “The Trust Administration of Māori Reserves, 1840–1913,” in Waitangi Tribunal Rangahaua Whanui Series, August 1997, 2. 9. R. L. Jellicoe, “Report on Native Reserves in Wellington and Nelson under the Control of the Native Trustee,” G-1, 5. 10. Ralph Johnson, “The Trust Administration of Māori Reserves, 1840–1913,” 18–21. See also, Te Tau Ihu O Te Waka a Maui: Report on Northern South Island Claims, Volume One. (Wai 785), Waitangi Tribunal Report, 2008, 260–304. 11. Wai 785, Vol. 1, 380. 12. Wai 785, Vol. 2, 800. 13. Wai 785, Vol. 2, 870–98. 14. Henry Sewell, The Journal of Henry Sewell, 1853–7, Volume 1, ed. W. David McIntyre (Christchurch: Whitcoulls Publishers, 1980), 229. 15. Wai 785, Vol. 2, 833. 16. For detailed accounts of the relentless misappropriation of Te Tau Ihu Māori land and interests, see Wai 785, Vol. 1 and 2; Clementine Fraser, “Nelson Tenths and Motueka Occupation Reserves, 1840s–1970s.” Report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal, 2000; Ralph Johnson, “The Trust Administration of Māori Reserves, 1840–1913”; and Hilary and John Mitchell, Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka. 17. The Waitangi Tribunal is a permanent commission of inquiry that was set up by the Treaty of Waitangi Act 1975 to investigate and make recommendations on claims brought by Māori relating to Crown actions which breach the promises made in the Treaty of Waitangi. For more, see https://www.waitangitribunal.govt.nz/ 18. Wai 785, Vol. 2, 840. The Treaty of Waitangi (Te Tiriti o Waitangi) is New Zealand’s founding document. It is an agreement for a partnership between Māori and the Crown that protected Māori interests, provided for British settlement, and established a Government to maintain peace and order in Aotearoa New Zealand. 19. Fraser, “Nelson Tenths and Motueka Occupation Reserves, 1840s–1970s,” 3. 20. Wai 785, Vol. 2, 1034. 21. “House of Representatives: Thursday June 29, 1854,” Daily Southern Cross, Vol. XI, Issue 733, 7 July 1854, 3. 22. “House of Representatives: Thursday June 29, 1854,” Daily Southern Cross, Vol. XI, Issue 733, 7 July 1854, 3. 23. “House of Representatives: Thursday June 29, 1854,” Daily Southern Cross, Vol. XI, Issue 733, 7 July 1854, 3. 24. Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 30 June 1855, 2. 25. Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 30 June 1855, 2. 26. “Dinner to A. C. Picard ESQ., and Mr Charles Parker,” The Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 21 October 1854, 4. 27. New Zealand Native Reserves Act 1856 (19 and 20 Victoriae 1856 No 10), http:// www.nzlii.org/nz/legis/hist_act/nznra185619a20v1856n10420. 28. Ralph Johnson, “The Trust Administration of Māori Reserves, 1840–1913,” 26. 29. “Dinner to A. C. Picard ESQ., and Mr Charles Parker,” 4. 30. “Dinner to A. C. Picard ESQ., and Mr Charles Parker,” 4. 31. “On the Death of A. C. Picard, ESQ.,” The Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 26 September 1855, 2. 32. Claire Gray, Nabila Jaber, and Jim Anglem, “Pākehā Identity: What Does It Mean to be White?” Sites 10 (2013): 82–106. See also Rosanne Majory Black, “Treaty People Recognising and Marking Pākehā Culture in Aotearoa New Zealand” (PhD diss., The University of Waikato, 2010), 58–73. 33. “Petition of the Provincial Council of Nelson Praying that Grants of Land to the Bishop of New Zealand for Industrial Schools may be Set Aside,” VPHR, 1854 Session I. Newspaper reports on the member’s presentation of the petition also lay the stress upon a “serious infraction of the principle of religious equality.” The New Zealander, Saturday July 22, 1854, 2.

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34. The Nelson Examiner and the New Zealand Chronicle, XIII, Issue 662, 30 August 1854, 3. 35. The Nelson Examiner and the New Zealand Chronicle, XIII, Issue 662, 30 August 1854, 3. 36. Hilary and John Mitchell, Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka, 379–80. 37. Bishop of Nelson to “Māories of Motueka,” 29 May 1869. Cited in Hilary and John Mitchell, Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka, 381–82. 38. Wai 785, Vol 2, 810–11. 39. Hilary and John Mitchell, Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka, 383. 40. Hilary and John Mitchell, Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka, 383–84. 41. Margaret Ann Mitcalfe, “Understandings of Being Pākehā: Explorating the Perspectives of Six Pākehā Who Have Studied in Māori Cultural Learning Contexts” (Master of Management diss., Massey University, 2008), 13. 42. Mitcalfe, “Understandings of Being Pākehā,” 14. 43. Gray, Jaber, and Anglem, “Pākehā Identity,” 83. 44. Gray, Jaber, and Anglem, “Pākehā Identity,” 83. 45. Gray, Jaber, and Anglem, “Pākehā Identity,” 99. 46. Ani Mikaere, “Kairangi: Expanding a Māori Conception of Excellence” in He Takuhanga Whakaaro: Conference Proceedings for Tuia Te Ako 2013, 69, https:// akoaotearoa.ac.nz/download/ng/file/group-4188/tuia-te-ako-2013proceedings.pdf. 47. See Greg Ryan, “Few and Far Between: Māori and Pacific Contributions to New Zealand Cricket,” Sport in Society 10 (2007): 71–87. 48. The poem is rarely found in print, but a full version exists in the comments of the Whale Oil blog, http://www.whaleoil.co.nz/2013/11/called-tough-guy-wantslighter-sentence-maori. 49. Avril Bell, Relating Indigenous and Settler Identities: Beyond Domination (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 11–12. 50. Gray, Jaber, and Anglem, “Pākehā Identity,” 85. 51. Avril Bell, “Decolonizing Conviviality and ‘Becoming Ordinary’: Cross-Cultural Face-to-Face Encounters in Aotearoa New Zealand,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 39 (2016): 1174. 52. Bell, “Decolonizing Conviviality and ‘Becoming Ordinary’,” 1175. 53. Mitcalfe, “Understandings of Being Pākehā,” 38. 54. Willie James Jennings, “The Change We Need: Race and Ethnicity in Theological Education,” Theological Education 49/1 (2014): 41. 55. Mark G. Brett, Political Trauma and Healing: Biblical Ethics for a Postcolonial World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016), 27. 56. James Cone, “Theology’s Great Sin: Silence in the Face of White Supremacy,” in The Cambridge Companion to Black Theology, eds. Dwight N. Hopkins and Edward P. Antonio (Cambridge: CUP, 2012), 145. 57. J. Kameron Carter, Race: A Theological Account (New York: OUP, 2008), 3. 58. Willie James Jennings, “Being Baptized: Race,” in The Blackwell Companion to Christian Ethics, 2nd ed., eds. Stanley Hauerwas and Samuel Wells (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2011), 277. 59. See Willie James Jennings, The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010). 60. Jennings, The Christian Imagination, 96–98. 61. Mark Brett contends that systematic theology is the major theological discipline that is yet to be significantly impacted by postcolonial criticisms. Mark G. Brett, Political Trauma and Healing: Biblical Ethics for a Postcolonial World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016), 8. 62. Jennings, “Being Baptized: Race,” 280. 63. Jennings, “Being Baptized: Race,” 278. 64. Jennings, “Being Baptized: Race,” 279. 65. Brett, Political Trauma and Healing, 50–51. 66. Jennings, “Being Baptized: Race,” 278–79.

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67. Mark G. Brett, Decolonizing God: The Bible in Tides of Empire (Sheffield: Sheffield Pheonix Press, 2008), 30. 68. Sarah Coakley, “Knowing in the Dark: Sin, Race and the Quest for Salvation. Part 1: Transforming Theological Anthropology in a Théologie Totale,” The Princeton Seminary Bulletin 32 (2015): 117. 69. Coakley, “Knowing in the Dark,” 112. 70. Coakley, “Knowing in the Dark,” 112. 71. Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: CUP, 1993), 38. 72. David A. deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 321. See also Michael J. Gorman, Reading Revelation Responsibly. Uncivil Worship and Witness: Following the Lamb into the New Creation (Eugene: Cascade Books, 2011), 24–25. 73. Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2014), 239–43. 74. Greg Carey, “Symptoms of Resistance in the Book of Revelation,” in The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation, ed. David L. Barr (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006), 173. 75. deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 90. 76. Harry O. Maier, Apocalypse Recalled: The Book of Revelation After Christendom (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 34. 77. Steven J. Friesen, “Myth and Symbolic Resistance in Revelation 13,” Journal of Biblical Literature 123 (2004): 285–86. See also Koester, Revelation, 104–105. 78. David Barr, Tales of the End: A Narrative Commentary on the Book of Revelation (Santa Rosa: Polebridge Press, 1998), 66–67. 79. Koester, Revelation, 96–98. See also Brian Blount, Revelation: A Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 41–42 and deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 50–58. 80. Allan Boesak, Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse from a South African Perspective (Philadelphia: Westminster John Knox Press, 1987), 38. 81. Blount, Revelation, 1–3. 82. Boesak, Comfort and Protest, 49. 83. Harry O. Maier, “Coming Out of Babylon: A First-World Reading of Revelation amongst Immigrants,” in From Every People and Nation: The Book of Revelation in Intercultural Perspective, ed. David Rhoads (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005), 70. 84. Maier, “Coming Out of Babylon,” 71. 85. deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 189–92. 86. Maier, Apocalypse Recalled, 33. 87. Maier, Apocalypse Recalled, 38. 88. Koester, Revelation, 101. 89. Koester, Revelation, 345–46. 90. Koester, Revelation, 346. 91. deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 189. 92. deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 190–91. 93. Koester, Revelation, 347–48. 94. See Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, 131–32; Maier, “Coming Out of Babylon,” 75–76; Edith M. Humphrey, “A Tale of Two Cities and (At Least) Three Women: Transformation, Continuity, and Contrast in the Apocalypse,” in Reading the Book of Revelation: A Resource for Students ed. David L. Barr (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 89–96; deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 292–94; and Koester, Revelation, 828. 95. Barbara R. Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities: Whore, Bride, and Empire in the Apocalypse (Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1999). See also Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, 126–32. 96. Maier, “Coming Out of Babylon,” 75–76. 97. Koester, Revelation, 685.

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98. Koester, Revelation, 685. 99. Feminist scholars have noted the female images of Revelation can fuel the worst misogynistic fantasies and gender stereotypes of women. Barbara Rossing makes the important point that Rome is an empire, not a woman and the personification of cities as female figures stems from the Greek noun for city (πόλις) being feminine. “What is highlighted throughout this entire scene is the economic and political critique of Rome, not a critique of women.” Barbara R. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed: The Message of Hope in the Book of Revelation (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2004), 132–33. 100. Koester, Revelation, 711–14. 101. Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, 129. 102. Koester, Revelation, 828. 103. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 124. See also Laurie Guy, “Back to the Future: The Millenium and the Exodus in Revelation 20,” Evangelical Quarterly 86 (2014): 227–38. 104. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 142. 105. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 143. 106. Humphrey, “A Tale of Two Cities and (At Least) Three Women,” 85–88. 107. Humphrey, “A Tale of Two Cities and (At Least) Three Women,” 91. 108. James L. Resseguie, The Revelation of John: A Narrative Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009), 30. 109. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 104–108. See also Steven J. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford: OUP, 2001), 167–79. 110. Koester, Revelation, 405. 111. Barr, Tales of the End, 82. 112. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 119. 113. David Barr, “The Lamb Who Looks like a Dragon? Characterizing Jesus in John’s Apocalypse,” in The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation (Atlanta: SBL, 2006), 213. For an extended review of Revelation’s subversion of violence see David Barr, “Towards an Ethical Reading of the Apocalypse,” in Society of Biblical Literature 1997 Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 358–73 and David Barr, “Doing Violence: Moral Issues in Reading John’s Apocalypse,” in Reading the Book of Revelation: A Resource for Students, ed. David L. Barr (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 97–108. 114. Koester, Revelation, 763. 115. Koester, Revelation, 408. 116. John employs a variety of divine passives (6:2; 6:4; 6:8) to show that their authority is not their own, and to warn of the chaos that would unfold if God lifted his loving hand from creation and allowed these forces to go the way they are determined to go. Koester, Revelation, 397. For a discussion of the likely economic scenario that John outlines, see Blount, Revelation, 127–30. 117. Revelation plays on “hearing” and “seeing.” For example, John hears of 144,000 Israelites being redeemed, but when he “looked” there was a great multitude from every nation, all tribes and peoples and languages (7:1–9). See Maier, Apocalypse Recalled, 91–122. On the significance of the Lamb imagery as a counterpoint to the Lion imagery, see Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 110–11. 118. Resseguie, The Revelation of John, 118. 119. Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, 88–94. 120. The aorist use of νικάω (“have conquered”) in 12:11 repeats its only other occurence in 5:5 to describe the completed conquest of the Lamb. Blount, Revelation, 238. 121. Rossing, The Rapture Exposed, 119–20. 122. Blount rightly notes that given John’s context of imprisonment, the death of Antipas and the martyrs crying out is a call to active resistance. Brian K. Blount, “The Witness of Active Resistance: The Ethics of Revelation in African American Perspective,” in From Every People and Nation: The Book of Revelation in Intercultural Perspective (ed. David Rhoads; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005), 40. 123. Blount, Revelation, 106. 124. Mitcalfe, “Understandings of Being Pākehā,” 72–81.

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125. Gray, Jaber, and Anglem, “Pākehā Identity,” 92. 126. Ani Mikaere, “Are We All New Zealanders Now? A Māori Response to the Pākehā Quest for Indigeneity,” in Colonising Myths—Māori Realities: He Rukuruku Whakaaro (Wellington, Huia, 2011), 106. 127. Mikaere, “Are We All New Zealanders Now?” 106. 128. Waitangi Tribunal, The Taranaki Report: Kaupapa Tuatahi: Wai 143 (Wellington: GP Publications, 1996), 315. 129. As Alister Reese has noted in this volume, Pākehā is a Te Reo descriptor and raises the reality that Pākehā are only this particular identity as a result of their relation to Māori. See Alister Reese, “Te Tiriti o Waitangi: An Act of Forgiveness.”

BIBLIOGRAPHY Anonymous poem, “I Wish I Was a Maori,” http://www.whaleoil.co.nz/2013/11/ called-tough-guy-wants-lighter-sentence-maori. Anonymous report, “Dinner to A. C. Picard ESQ., and Mr Charles Parker,” The Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 21 October 1854, 4. Annonymous report, “House of Representatives.” Page 3 in Daily Southern Cross, Vol. XI, Issue 733, 7 July 1854. Anonymous report, “House of Representatives.” Page 3 in The Nelson Examiner and the New Zealand Chronicle, XIII, Issue 662, 30 August 1854. Barr, David. “Towards an Ethical Reading of the Apocalypse.” Pages 358–73 in Society of Biblical Literature 1997 Seminar Papers. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997. ———. Tales of the End: A Narrative Commentary on the Book of Revelation. Santa Rosa: Polebridge Press, 1998. ———. “Doing Violence: Moral Issues in Reading John’s Apocalypse.” Pages 97–108 in Reading the Book of Revelation: A Resource for Students. Edited by David L. Barr. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. ———. “The Lamb Who Looks like a Dragon? Characterizing Jesus in John’s Apocalypse.” Pages 205–20 in The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation. Edited by David L. Barr. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006. Bauckham, Richard. The Theology of the Book of Revelation. Cambridge: CUP, 1993. Bell, Avril. Relating Indigenous and Settler Identities: Beyond Domination. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. ———. “Decolonizing Conviviality and ‘Becoming Ordinary’: Cross-Cultural Face-toFace Encounters in Aotearoa New Zealand.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 39 (2016): 1170–86. Black, Rosanne Majory. “Treaty People Recognising and Marking Pākehā Culture in Aotearoa New Zealand.” PhD diss., The University of Waikato, 2010. Blount, Brian K. “The Witness of Active Resistance: The Ethics of Revelation in African American Perspective.” Pages 28–46 in From Every People and Nation: The Book of Revelation in Intercultural Perspective. Edited by David Rhoads. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005. ———. Revelation: A Commentary. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Boesak, Allan. Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse from a South African Perspective. Philadelphia: Westminster John Knox Press, 1987. Brett, Mark G. Decolonizing God: The Bible in Tides of Empire. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008. ———. Political Trauma and Healing: Biblical Ethics for a Postcolonial World. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016. Carey, Greg. “Symptoms of Resistance in the Book of Revelation.” Pages 169–78 in The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation. Edited by David L. Barr. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006. Carter, J. Kameron. Race: A Theological Account. New York: OUP, 2008.

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Coakley, Sarah. “Knowing in the Dark: Sin, Race and the Quest for Salvation. Part 1: Transforming Theological Anthropology in a Théologie Totale.” The Princeton Seminary Bulletin 32 (2015): 108–122. Cone, James. “Theology’s Great Sin: Silence in the Face of White Supremacy,” Pages 143–155 in The Cambridge Companion to Black Theology. Edited by Dwight N. Hopkins and Edward P. Antonio. Cambridge: CUP, 2012. deSilva, David A. Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Fraser, Clementine. Nelson Tenths and Motueka Occupation Reserves, 1840s-1970s. Research Report Commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal, 2000, Wai 785 A79, Northern South Island Inquiry. Friesen, Steven J. “Myth and Symbolic Resistance in Revelation 13.” Journal of Biblical Literature 123 (2004): 285–86. Friesen, Steven J. Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins. Oxford: OUP, 2001. Gorman, Michael J. Reading Revelation Responsibly. Uncivil Worship and Witness: Following the Lamb into the New Creation. Eugene: Cascade Books, 2011. Gray, Claire, Nabila Jaber, and Jim Anglem, “Pākehā Identity: What Does It Mean to be White?” Sites 10 (2013): 82–106. Guy, Laurie. “Back to the Future: The Millenium and the Exodus in Revelation 20.” Evangelical Quarterly 86 (2014): 227–38. Humphrey, Edith M. “A Tale of Two Cities and (At Least) Three Women: Transformation, Continuity, and Contrast in the Apocalypse.” Pages 89–96 in Reading the Book of Revelation: A Resource for Students. Edited by David L. Barr. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. Jellicoe, R. L. “Report on Native Reserves in Wellington and Nelson under the Control of the Native Trustee” in Appendices to the Journals of the House of Representatives, 26 March 1929, G-1, 5. ———. The New Zealand Company’s Native Reserves. Compiled from Parliamentary Papers, Departmental Documents, and other Authentic Sources of Information. Wellington: Government Printer, 1930. Jennings, Willie James. The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010. ———. “Being Baptized: Race.” Pages 277–289 in The Blackwell Companion to Christian Ethics, 2nd ed. Edited by Stanley Hauerwas and Samuel Wells. Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2011. ———. “Theology and Race.” Pages 783–94 in The Routledge Companion to Modern Christian Thought. Edited by Chad Meister and James Beilby. London and New York: Routledge, 2013. ———. “The Change We Need: Race and Ethnicity in Theological Education.” Theological Education 49/1 (2014): 35–42. J. L. R. “On the Death of A. C. Picard, ESQ.,” The Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 26 September 1855, 2. Johnson, Ralph, The Trust Administration of Maori Reserves, 1840–1913. Waitangi Tribunal Rangahaua Whanui Series. Wellington: Waitangi Tribunal, 1997. Koester, Craig R. Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2014. Maier, Harry O. Apocalypse Recalled: The Book of Revelation After Christendom. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002. ———. “Coming Out of Babylon: A First-World Reading of Revelation amongst Immigrants.” Pages 62–81 in From Every People and Nation: The Book of Revelation in Intercultural Perspective. Edited by David Rhoads. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005. Māori Dictionary. http://maoridictionary.co.nz McIntyre, David W., ed. The Journal of Henry Sewell, 1853–7, Volume 1. Christchurch: Whitcoulls Publishers, 1980.

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Mikaere, Ani “Are We All New Zealanders Now? A Māori Response to the Pākehā Quest for Indigeneity.” Pages 97–119 in Colonising Myths—Māori Realities: He Rukuruku Whakaaro. Wellington, Huia, 2011. ———. “Kairangi: Expanding a Māori Conception of Excellence.” Pages 68–78 in He Takuhanga Whakaaro: Conference Proceedings for Tuia Te Ako 2013. https://akoaotearoa. ac.nz/download/ng/file/group-4188/tuia-te-ako-2013proceedings.pdf. Mitcalfe, Margaret Ann. “Understandings of Being Pākehā: Explorating the Perspectives of Six Pākehā Who Have Studied in Māori Cultural Learning Contexts.” Master of Management diss., Massey University, 2008. Mitchell, Hilary, and John Mitchell. Te Tau Ihu o Te Waka: A History of Māori of Nelson and Marlborough. Volume 1: Te Tangata me Te Whenua – The People and the Land. Wellington: Huia, 2004. Nelson Provincial Council, “Petition of the Provincial Council of Nelson Praying that Grants of Land to the Bishop of New Zealand for Industrial Schools may be Set Aside.” 8.2 in Votes and Proceedings of the House of Representatives, 1854 Session I. New Zealand Government, “New Zealand Native Reserves Act 1856 (19 and 20 Victoriae 1856 No 10),” http://www.nzlii.org/nz/legis/hist_act/nznra185619a20v1856 n10420. Picard, A. C. “To Mr. Richard Sutcliffe, and the Other Gentlemen Signing the Requisition.” Page 2 in Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 30 June 1855. Picard, Andrew. “‘On the Way’ and ‘In the Fray’ in Aotearoa: A Pākehā’s Covenantal Reflections from a Treaty People.” Pacific Journal of Baptist Research 11 (2016): 54–57. Resseguie, James L. The Revelation of John: A Narrative Commentary. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009. Rossing, Barbara R. The Choice Between Two Cities: Whore, Bride, and Empire in the Apocalypse. Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1999. ———. The Rapture Exposed: The Message of Hope in the Book of Revelation. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2004. Ryan, Greg. “Few and Far Between: Māori and Pacific Contributions to New Zealand Cricket.” Sport in Society 10 (2007): 71–87. “Waitangi Tribunal.” https://www.waitangitribunal.govt.nz Waitangi Tribunal, Te Tau Ihu O Te Waka a Maui: Report on Northern South Island Claims. Volumes One, Two, and Three: Wai 785. Wellington: Waitangi Tribunal Report, 2008. Waitangi Tribunal, The Taranaki Report: Kaupapa Tuatahi: Wai 143. Wellington: GP Publications, 1996.

SIXTEEN Journeying through Forgiveness When It Really Hurts Philip Halstead

“Nearly everyone has wronged another. Who among us has not longed to be forgiven? Nearly everyone has suffered the bitter injustice of wrongdoing. Who has not struggled to forgive?” 1 Given the starkness and veracity of facts and questions like these, there is clearly a pressing need for us to become more skilled in the art of forgiveness. But are we? Does the average churchgoer know about the potential benefits of authentic forgiveness and the insidious perils of pseudo forgiveness? Do churches have ready access to proven processes of forgiveness that can help parishioners to work through barriers to forgiveness? And perhaps most pointedly, do people know how to journey through forgiveness when it really hurts? In response to these questions, this chapter provides an overview of The Forgiveness Matters Course, a theologically and psychologically validated course that has successfully been used to assist large numbers of people to forgive a wide variety of wounds. 2 Each course is typically run over eight, weekly 90-minute sessions and has eight to ten group members. 3 Accordingly, the chapter first lays a pastoral foundation for forgiveness. Building on this, the HEART forgiveness schema, which forms the spine of the course, is then discussed. This is followed by a case study that illustrates a course participant’s engagement with the course content and resulting transformation. The implications of this work conclude the chapter. My motivation for creating the course stemmed from several factors. One was intensely personal: in many ways my father was an extraordi269

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narily fine man who loved me deeply. However, his non-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder and my inability to process the negative effects of it, contributed to much pain and chaos in my life. It was only after years of help from my wife, a therapist, God, and others along with much prayer and study that I eventually came to a place of forgiveness and healing. One result of this hard-earned liberty was that I wanted to share my learning and inner processes with others. A second overlapping factor was my desire to make the potential benefits of forgiveness such as improved mental, 4 relational, 5 physical, 6 and spiritual health, 7 readily accessible to interested parties. A third was my ever-growing realization that vast numbers of people suffer under the damaging effects of unprocessed wounds. And a fourth was the paucity of validated church-based forgiveness courses that can facilitate such assistance and transformations. 8 These results and desires led to further studies and the creation of The Forgiveness Matters Course, which I describe in the next section of this chapter. As you read about the course, I invite you to apply the content to your own forgiveness issues. ESTABLISHING A PASTORAL FOUNDATION FOR FORGIVENESS One of the first points made in the early stages of The Forgiveness Matters Course is that forgiveness rarely, if ever, occurs in a vacuum. It typically has many antecedents. Even on the joyous occasions when we discover that forgiveness has taken place, such as when we wake up in the morning and realize that our pain and/or hatred towards our violators has miraculously disappeared, we can usually uncover evidence of prior input and effort. One cluster of points that enhance forgiveness entails pastoral caregivers creating welcoming, respectful, and safe environments. In The Forgiveness Matters Course setting, this involved activities like crafting handouts, preparing meeting spaces, explaining confidentiality protocols with the participants, ensuring that no one feels cornered, and outlining the course’s explorative motif. 9 In other settings, the work of creating spaces that allow for the deep work of forgiveness to occur will clearly need to be contextualized. In every context, pastoral caregivers can proclaim that the Bible is replete with evidence that God is a forgiving God. In the Old Testament forgiveness is grounded in the character of God as being gracious (e.g., Neh 9:17; Ps 103:12; Dan 9:9). 10 The key Hebrew words used to depict forgiveness—kāpar (to make atonement for, to cover; e.g., Deut 21:8), sālāh (recognizing that goodness and forgiveness dwell in God and accordingly petitioning God to pardon sins; e.g., 1 Kgs 8:30), and nāśā (to lift or carry the guilt of sin away from sinners; e.g., Exod 28:43)—are all under-

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pinned by grace. 11 Grace is also reflected in the extraordinary lengths that God goes to in order to encourage us to repent; in fact, no matter where or how we sin, God seems to search for sinners and extend the possibility of forgiveness to us in the hope that broken connections and fellowship may be restored. Examples include God’s pursuit of Adam and Eve (Gen 3), God’s interactions with Cain (Gen 4), and the oft-maligned sacrificial system described in Leviticus, which was established to give perpetrators of sin the opportunity to reconnect with God and others. 12 The primary point that is being made here is that God is eager and able to forgive sin. 13 Caregivers who take these infectious truths to heart will invariably impart them to the people in their care and in this way inspire some of them to seek forgiveness from God. Similarly, in the New Testament God forgives sins through Christ (e.g., Acts 5:31). One of the principal Greek verbs for the word forgive is charizomai, which means to grant as a favor and/or to deal graciously with. Charizomai stems from the same root as charis, grace, and reveals that forgiveness rests “on the atoning work of Christ. That is to say, it is an act of sheer grace.” 14 Put differently, the sinless Christ via his death and resurrection achieved for humanity what was and is totally beyond human reach—atonement for our sins (Rom 5:8; 2 Cor 5:21). A second key Greek word for forgiveness is aphiēmi. It also conveys the message of grace and essentially means to release, discharge, send away, and/or cancel a debt. Examples include the well-known parable of the unforgiving servant (Matt 18:23–35) and the petition in the Lord’s Prayer to “forgive us our debts” (Matt 6:12; Luke 11.4). 15 The thought here is that when caregivers experience Jesus’ ability to atone for their own sins they will be better able to hold this same hope for wounded persons who for various reasons are unable to hold the hope for restoration through forgiveness for themselves. Relatedly, caregivers will convey to care seekers that the real wonder of forgiveness is the relational miracle of encountering the author of forgiveness. Liberty, physical healing, and other blessings that often accompany forgiveness, wonderful as they are, are more accurately construed as secondary benefits to that of experiencing closeness and union with Jesus. Scripture also highlights that the Holy Spirit “makes Christ’s forgiveness audible to each of us in our particularity.” 16 It was the Spirit, for instance, who prepared and sent Peter to Cornelius’ house and miraculously confirmed Peter’s message of forgiveness to all who had gathered there (Acts 10:43–44) and it is the Spirit who convicts us of our guilt pertaining to sin (John 16:8–9). The Spirit also helps us to appropriate forgiveness through insights gained from other means such as dreams and supernatural occurrences. 17 The character, practices, and experiences of a pastoral caregiver can also advance (or impede) the prospect of forgiveness occurring in others. Consider, for example, the discipline or practice of confession. If caregiv-

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ers prove themselves to be genuine and trustworthy, we will be far more likely to confess our sins to them and concomitantly experience forgiveness. Of course, the obverse is also true. If caregivers are not safe, if they do not engender trust, we will be less likely to confess our sins to them and as a result our opportunities to experience forgiveness will be diminished. Equally, the caregivers’ prayers, love, and attitudes towards injured people, as well as the authenticity of their own forgiveness journeys, can enhance or inhibit the prospects of others engaging successfully with forgiveness. The possibility of forgiveness taking place can also be boosted by exploring some common myths and misbeliefs connected with forgiveness. Deconstructing these concepts can liberate people from erroneous beliefs that they hold and introduce them to alternative views that serve as harbingers for genuine forgiveness and healing. The following examples illustrate this. Forgiveness does not equate to the denial of offenses. Denial implies that injuries were insignificant or that they did not occur. Forgiveness, on the contrary, pays attention and respect to the reality, significance, and depth of our injuries. Stated differently, sins and their ramifications need to be named and wounded persons ought to be able to say, “I have been wronged, it hurts, and I wish to do something about this.” 18 If this does not happen there is essentially nothing to forgive. Correspondingly, despite the seemingly ubiquitous cry to “forgive and forget,” forgiveness does not require persons to forget that they have been wounded. In fact, to forget the violations and injustices we have experienced is typically impossible and potentially dangerous, as it may compromise our safety and rob us and others of valuable learning and healing experiences. Of course, this is not to diminish the fact that forgiveness sometimes causes people to remember offenses differently (e.g., with less animosity) and re-story their lives. 19 Probing the relationship between anger and forgiveness can also advance the probability of forgiveness, given that anger is both a common and an appropriate response to being injured. Insightfully, Enright and Fitzgibbons contend that there are three basic human responses to anger; namely, people can deny its existence, express it, and/or process it via forgiveness. 20 An advantage of the latter option is that persons can learn to view their anger as a helpful ally that can identify violations and thereby serve as a stepping stone towards forgiveness; and surely, to attend to anger via forgiveness is a better option than fearing, suppressing, and/or expressing it inappropriately. The notions of justice and forgiveness are also discrete concepts that frequently elicit consternation when they are incorrectly linked. This may be due to some of us desiring revenge. Or, it may reflect our attempts to balance values like responsibility, justice, and fairness with qualities like empathy, compassion, and mercy. Consequently, it can be helpful to in-

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vestigate each of these principles separately and/or explore ways to hold a healthy tension between these seemingly contradictory notions. It may also help us to become familiar with the requirements of the law and set aside our thirst for retribution until we have journeyed further along the path of forgiveness. Some form of an accountability arrangement may assist us to navigate more successfully through these turbulent waters. To forgive a person does not mean that you must trust the forgiven person. Trust is a fragile and hard-earned quality that is built on solid evidence such as congruency between people’s inner and outer worlds, loving actions, and predictability over time. Forgiveness does not change this. If pastoral caregivers were to claim otherwise, if they were to exhort abused parishioners to trust apologetic offenders before they had proven the authenticity of their repentance, it would be tantamount to a crime. One reason for this is that ill-founded trust can lead to the repetition of crimes. Another is that it cheapens the currency of forgiveness in the church and the public domain. A similar myth is that forgiveness demands that wounded people must be reconciled with their violators. This assertion is not to detract from the theological claim that reconciliation can be viewed as an optimum outcome of forgiveness, 21 but it is to accentuate that forgivers oftentimes cannot be reconciled in the here-and-now to wrongdoers who are unrepentant, untrustworthy, unsafe, pathological, or unknown. Equally, to argue that forgiveness is only complete when a broken relationship is mended is to inflict further burdens on the wounded. Upon being exposed to concepts and distinctions like the ones described above, numerous people have been liberated to forgive and/or become more open to explore forgiveness. Key reasons for this include that their pain, suffering, and/or hesitancy to forgive has been validated and that they had acquired more differentiated insights and points of reference for their actions. Breakthroughs also occur when people are introduced to different definitions of forgiveness. A personal favorite is Miroslav Volf’s, “Forgiveness is the boundary between exclusion and embrace.” 22 One of the many advantages of this definition is that the word exclusion sheds light on how sins and offenses exclude persons from God, life, others, and themselves to various degrees; whereas, the word embrace speaks of being able to enjoy God, life, others, and oneself. Forgiveness makes this metamorphosis possible. William P. Young offers another salient description of forgiveness in his best-selling book, The Shack. Here, God says to Mack, who is grieving the tragic abduction and murder of his young daughter, “Forgiveness is not about forgetting, Mack. It is about letting go of another person’s throat.” 23 This rendering of forgiveness points to the tragic toll that the desire for revenge can extract from hurting victims who are unable or unwilling to release their violators via forgiveness.

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Introducing people to different paths of forgiveness can also enhance the likelihood of forgiveness. Education on the topics described in this chapter can be construed as one mode. Another is simply to cover over (i.e., to disregard and/or let go of) the offenses of others (e.g., 1 Pet 4:8), which is the very essence of forgiveness (e.g., Ps 32:1) and love (e.g., Prov 10:12). Covering over offenses is also perhaps the most appropriate response for forgiving so-called minor wrongdoings. Telling one’s story to trusted others is a further potential track to forgiveness, as it aids storytellers (and listeners) to forsake denial, own the reality of their wounds, make meaning, and become known. Prayers of forgiveness can liberate people, too. Such supplications may range from a one-off prayer to pleas that are repeated and/or shouted for days, weeks, months, or longer until they become a reality. A fifth way to augment the prospect of forgiveness to transpire is to create space for persons to encounter the triune God, in whom Christian forgiveness is founded. Practices such as worship, sharing communion, reading the Gospels, and confessing and receiving forgiveness for our own sins can lead to such revolutionary encounters. By connecting with God in these ways, hurting persons may feel empowered to proceed with their forgiveness work. Jesus puts it this way: “Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven, hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little” (Luke 7:47). Pastoral workers ought to be energized by the insights described above. They signal that the healing and re-creating that forgiveness can engender is not a case of God working in some esoteric fashion; rather, it is a case of forgiveness being available to everyone. They motivate because they reveal that the more caregivers experience and understand the nature and principles of forgiveness the better abled they are to aid others through their forgiveness processes. Having said that, despite the efficacy of the forgiveness strategies discussed to this point to engender forgiveness, many individuals testify that they require additional assistance to forgive people who have deeply wounded them. In instances like these it can be extremely advantageous to work through the HEART forgiveness schema, which comprises the second and largest section of The Forgiveness Matters Course. This process might enable them to forgive the big issues in life. Once again, I invite you to apply the material to your personal story and read the following in a reflective manner. THE HEART FORGIVENESS SCHEMA Jesus exhorts us to forgive from our hearts (Matt 18:35). This appeal accentuates that genuine forgiveness engages our heads (i.e., our cognitions and volitions) as well as our emotions. 24 Stated in the language of

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neuroscience, true and enduring forgiveness requires the involvement of both our left- and right-brains. 25 The acronym HEART and the concepts and steps associated with this process—to heed, explore, acknowledge, review, and target (see below)—facilitate this real kind of forgiveness. Heed Your Wounds The reason for encouraging us to heed our wounds is to help us comprehend more accurately the reality, effects, and ramifications of our violators’ offenses at both cognitive and affective levels, so that, in time, we might be better able to forgive from our hearts. A range of methods can be employed to enable this. One example involves sharing our stories and/or listening to other individuals’ experiences of being hurt. A second entails exploring the concepts of psychological and emotional offenses (e.g., being unfairly criticized), physical offenses (e.g., being beaten), sexual offenses (e.g., being leered at), and spiritual offenses (e.g., being harshly disciplined by authority figures in God’s name) if it is adjudged that such investigations would be useful and safe. 26 And a third example encompasses investigating the notions of sins of omission and commission. 27 Since the pathway to authentic forgiveness and healing typically passes through and not around our wounds, it can also be extremely helpful to contemplate Enright and Fitzgibbons’ seven levels of pain that stem from being hurt by others. These include anger, shame, depleted emotional reserves, repetitive thoughts about the injuries, the torment of comparison, changed circumstances, and altered world views. 28 However, before some of us will be able to engage with these potentially illuminating concepts, we may first need to confront the psychological defenses 29 that we have constructed in order to survive the wounds we have sustained such as denying their existence or vowing, “I’ll never trust an authority figure again.” Symington argues that people’s emotional treatment of others can be enormously damaging. 30 An exploration of this level of wounding in the context of forgiveness can be extremely informative. To explore these emotional dynamics in depth, Volf’s masterful portrayal of sin as exclusion is especially clarifying. 31 Volf uses four memorable phrases to explain the concept—namely, exclusion as elimination (e.g., perpetrators deny people the right to pursue their God-given destinies), 32 exclusion as assimilation (e.g., offenders coerce persons to give up their identities in order to fit into their group), exclusion as domination (e.g., wrongdoers assign victims “the status of inferior beings” 33), and exclusion as abandonment (e.g., violators view individuals as superfluous to their requirements and consequently forsake them). A benefit of viewing offenders through these lenses is that it enables us to ascertain (albeit perhaps only speculatively) the attitudes behind our perpetrators’ sins. This new in-

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sight can validate our felt yet possibly unacknowledged experiences, which, in turn, can assist us to heed our wounds at liberating depths. A remarkably helpful method of assisting wounded people to heed their wounds is to use Pennebaker’s strategy of writing about one’s experience of being wounded for 20 minutes per day for four consecutive days. 34 We may write on Day One, for instance, “God, when I think of what my teacher did . . .” and then proceed to pour out whatever emerges. The next day we might journal about some of the effects of the offenses and Day Three’s focus might be on the attitude of the teacher. On Day Four, we could revisit and expand upon some of the themes that had already emerged. What matters the most here is not the order in which we engage with our wounds, or even the how of the engagement, 35 but that we heed and express our wounds at cognitive and affectual levels. Explore Why People May Have Wounded You The E stage of the HEART forgiveness schema invites us to explore the factors that might have influenced people to hurt us. Examples abound. Consider the common experience of exhaustion. Depleted by incessant external and internal demands, ill health, a dearth of support, and/or a lack of sleep, who has not advertently or inadvertently wounded another? Similarly, the pressures and expectations of society, church, family, and intrapsychic realities may fatigue people and concomitantly influence them to exert control over us in harmful ways. Ignorance is a further example. So too is the fact that many violators have themselves been earlier injured by others and where these wounds have remained unprocessed the likelihood of these persons injuring innocent others increases. It is important to note that there can be both advantages and disadvantages in probing the possible reasons behind other people’s offenses. Since this is the case, this second stage of the HEART forgiveness schema is entirely optional. Benefits include unearthing information that may elicit insight, understanding, compassion, and empathy, and/or that helps to quell some of the nagging “why questions” we carry such as, “Why did she/he do this to me?” Breakthroughs of this nature may, in turn, serve as springboards towards forgiveness. A clear drawback of undertaking such explorations is that they invite hurting persons to enter the mindsets of their violators and clearly this could lead to further violations in some contexts. Another potential stumbling block is where socalled mitigating circumstances are discovered that tempt us to excuse the people who have harmed us. Such whitewashing can be tragic, because as stated above, unless a person can say “I have been wronged, it hurts, and I wish to do something about this” 36 there is essentially nothing to forgive and no healing to be gained.

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Where our investigations of the factors that might have influenced others to hurt us have left us uncertain concerning the culpability of our violators, Plantinga suggests several ways forward. 37 One is to remember that it might be only a matter of conjecture to reason that our wrongdoers were not to some degree culpable. Another is to ask ourselves whether our offenders’ actions or omissions caused harm? A third is to consider whether self-deception or ill-founded accusations are worse? Plantinga argues that in each of these instances it is better for us to process our wounds and one way of doing this is via the HEART forgiveness schema. By using this process, impasses are overcome, Jesus’ call to forgive is followed, and the wounded remain open to experience healing through the process of forgiveness. Acknowledging Key Christian Traditions That Inform Your Understanding of Forgiveness The next phase of the HEART forgiveness schema encourages us to engage with four key categories of forgiveness—namely, those of transpersonal, self, intrapersonal, and interpersonal forgiveness. As will be explained, it is best (though not mandatory) to study these factors sequentially and to keep in mind that they are interconnected and not isolated concepts. Transpersonal forgiveness involves us seeking forgiveness from God for our sins against God and others. It is founded on the good news that God is quick to forgive repentant people. It spotlights the sad news that many of us hurt others in response to being wounded. What we need to keep in mind is the fact that when we hurt someone else we also hurt God (Num 5:6; 2 Sam 12:13). Thus, even when we are working through the HEART schema to process the wounds that we have received from others, it is likely that we will also need to seek forgiveness from God for the ways that we have hurt God and others in reaction to being wounded. A cartoon I once saw illustrates well the overflow effect of being wounded. The first frame portrayed an employer yelling at a male employee; next, the employee is at home bellowing at his wife; then, the wife screams at the children; this is followed by the son kicking the family dog; and the final frame depicts the dog biting a cat. Hurt people hurt people. Ostensibly each person in this scenario has cause to repent and forgive. To do this they may draw strength from the reality that “God’s forgiveness is a regenerative experience that transforms a forgiven person into a forgiving person.” 38 Stated differently, we should open our hearts to God when working through the HEART forgiveness schema, because when God convicts us of our sins, it can be construed as an invitation from God to repent and experience God’s forgiveness and embrace. John and Mark Sandford put

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it this way: “To repent is to be sorry for the hurt we have caused the Lord and others by what has lodged in our hearts and by what we have done [or not done]; it is being willing to die to what we have been, and allowing God to change us into what He wants us to be.” 39 Self-forgiveness is the next category of forgiveness that we are invited to explore. It involves us forgiving ourselves for our own sins. The following illustrative questions reflect that the concept is common to everyone. “Has anyone not berated themselves over their past wrongs?” “Has anyone not had to grapple with issues of shame and other self-condemning thoughts and emotions?” And, “Has anyone not longed to be able to move beyond such predicaments?” To forgive ourselves for our own sins of commission or omission can be exceedingly difficult. Enright and The Human Development Study Group reason that it requires “a willingness to abandon self-resentment in the face of one’s acknowledged wrong, whilst fostering compassion, generosity, and love towards oneself.” 40 It entails new learning, accepting our humanity, and demonstrating tangible and sustained change over time. It also involves replacing fruits of unforgiveness (e.g., perfectionism and self-condemnation) with those of forgiveness (e.g., love and grace). But how might this be achieved? One path could be for selfforgivers to process their own sins through the HEART forgiveness schema. Another route necessitates that we offer to ourselves what we would extend to others via interpersonal forgiveness. And a third overlapping means could be to obtain professional help. A second way of comprehending self-forgiveness is to view it as a method of helping us to receive God’s forgiveness. 41 Accordingly, Countryman reasons self-forgiveness begins when we acknowledge the wrongs we have committed against ourselves and others. It continues with repentance, which Countryman maintains equates to us obtaining new minds, or the mind of God. This new outlook assists us to embrace God’s forgiveness and as this forgiveness unfurls we take responsibility for our sins and turn our past wrongs into catalysts for redemptive acts. 42 The underlying premise of steps like these, in Stanley’s view, is that God completely forgave us for all our sins when we accepted Christ as our Savior. Thus, self-forgiveness restores our sense of fellowship with God; it does not restore the actual fellowship, because it was never broken. Stated differently, when Christians sin their relationship with God may be strained, but their status as family members is never threatened. 43 Clearly, there are very real dangers with pseudo self-forgiveness such as when I sin against you, spontaneously forgive myself, wander off blithely, and leave you reeling. In other words, quasi self-forgiveness facilitates sinful practices, lets violators off the hook, and enables wrongdoers to remain immune to the damage they have caused others. This is unacceptable. Perhaps this helps to explain why the concept is not overt-

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ly named in the Bible. (It is, however, implicitly addressed in many biblical passages such as Matt 5:44 and 19:19.) Intrapersonal forgiveness is the third category of forgiveness that persons working through the HEART forgiveness schema are encouraged to engage with. It involves us forgiving the people who have hurt us within our own minds and emotions. It does not require us to communicate with our violators in any manner. There are several ways that intrapersonal forgiveness can occur. It may involve us gaining new insights about forgiveness that lead to breakthroughs, praying prayers of forgiveness (Mark 11:25), covering others’ sins with love (1 Pet 4:8), “letting go of past hurt and bitterness,” 44 and/or processing our wounds via forgiveness modalities such as the HEART forgiveness schema. MacArthur believes that this internal type of forgiveness is what the Bible refers to most often when it calls people to forgive others; for after all, “the heavy emphasis on forgiveness in Scripture is not meant to make us more confrontational, but quite the opposite.” 45 To deepen our understanding of intrapersonal forgiveness it is often helpful to look at the concept through the lens of human development. From our earliest days, we internalize images of our primary caregivers (and other key people) along with their positive and negative characteristics. This means that the helpful and unhelpful attributes of these individuals such as aspects of their attitudes, emotions, tempers, and so forth have all contributed to the formation of the templates through which we view life. 46 One consequence of this internalizing process is that our views of ourselves, others, and life are invariably skewed. Another is that when a person hurts us in the present we may react against (a) the pain of the wounds that have just been inflicted; (b) the person who has just hurt us as she or he is in the given moment; and (c) any related unprocessed historical images, memories, or emotions connected with that person and/or that are evoked by the offense. This latter point accentuates the interconnectedness of our inner worlds; for example, my unprocessed anger towards Person A may be aroused when Person B hurts me. In such instances, intrapersonal forgiveness can not only help us to forgive the person who has hurt us, but also heal the related images that we carry around inside our psyches. Another benefit of intrapersonal forgiveness is that it provides a safe path for us to forgive abusive, unrepentant, absent, deceased, and/or unknown violators. Similarly, it enables us to forgive within the parameters of our memories, which means that gains of forgiveness can be obtained even when our recollections of specific offenses are not entirely accurate. Further, intrapersonal forgiveness frees us to express forgiveness in non-verbal ways and thereby avoid the risks or misunderstandings that might occur through spoken forgiveness.

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Interpersonal forgiveness—that is, forgiving others in an overt fashion—is the final component of forgiveness that is explored in this section of the HEART forgiveness schema. I have intentionally not addressed it until this point even though it is regularly the mode of forgiveness that people are most familiar with in churches. The primary reason for this delay is to encourage us to work through the points outlined above before we consider approaching others. Stated differently, if wounded people, prior to confronting their violators, were first to contemplate the foundations of forgiveness, heed their wounds, explore why others may have hurt them, seek forgiveness from God, work through their self-forgiveness issues, and forgive their violators intra-personally, their attitudes towards the people who have hurt them would at the very least be less antagonistic. An obvious benefit of such attitudinal shifts is that the prospect of effective communication and interpersonal forgiveness taking place would be greatly heightened. Opinion is divided over the question of whether wounded individuals need to confront the people who have hurt them about their offenses. Proponents of direct communication remind us that Jesus spoke of going to those who have wronged us to point out their wrongs (e.g., Matt 18:15) and that therefore not to go is an act of disobedience. 47 They also argue that confronting wrongdoers enables stories to be told, misunderstandings to be resolved, pain to be mitigated, and healing to be advanced. Moreover, Nathan’s dealings with King David in 2 Samuel 11–12 illustrate that overt challenges can lead to repentance and the seeking of forgiveness. Clearly, these are good outcomes. However, opponents of mandatory going point out that frank challenges do not always bear good fruit, as innumerable people’s experiences testify to including the example of John the Baptist, who ended up having his head cut off because of spotlighting Herod’s sin (Matt 14: 1–11). Many of the arguments for intrapersonal forgiveness support a non-confrontational stance, too, such as the impossibility of confronting unknown and deceased wrongdoers, the folly of challenging pathological assailants, and the priority of taking responsibility for one’s own attitudes and issues. Jesus can also be cited to support this position. For example, his call to forgive in Mark 11:25 leaves no time for wounded people to go to those who have hurt them. When opinion is divided, when prescriptive edicts are contested, I deem it is best to present both sides of the argument to interested parties and to support them in their decision-making processes. In the instances where individuals determine to go and confront their violators it is important as a pastoral caregiver to assist them to prepare for the meetings. This may involve encouraging persons to address their internal issues first (as per above), use appropriate non-defensive language, role-play the likely dialogues, and pray. Caregivers may also need to help people consider the optimum location and timing of the meetings and release

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any expectations they carry concerning how individuals may or may not change in response to their challenges. Review Any Questions and Dilemmas You Have The penultimate stage of the HEART forgiveness schema invites us to review the questions and dilemmas that arise for us on our forgiveness journeys. These issues need to be addressed if we are to continue successfully with our forgiveness work. Some of us, for example, may feel overwhelmed as we try to forgive. This could be due to us gaining greater clarity concerning the motives behind or the effects of our violators’ offenses. (Of course, this new awareness may also help us to heed our experiences more effectively, which will advance our forgiveness.) Or, it may be a case of our life circumstances changing during our forgiveness endeavors, such as when a family member becomes ill and needs our care, which could result in us having less time and energy to give to our forgiveness work. In situations like these, it can be helpful to inform forgivers that it is not uncommon for persons to encounter obstacles on their forgiveness journeys and that we, their caregivers, are committed to supporting them in their ongoing work. Conversely, it might be expedient to assure people that it is permissible and oftentimes prudent to set aside one’s forgiveness work for a season. This may help the forgivers to learn new coping strategies such as mindfulness techniques 48 that assist them to process fluctuating cortisol and adrenaline levels and to develop stronger support networks. The hope is that plans like these will, in time, enable people to proceed with their more specific forgiveness work. A second obstacle that especially churchgoing forgivers need to contend with is the belief that we should leave the past behind and press forward. Scriptures like Luke 9:62 and Philippians 3:13 are frequently cited to bolster this claim as are maxims along the lines of “your past was dealt with when you became a Christian,” “navel-gazing is counter-productive,” and “you ought to forget the past and get on with your life.” To counter erroneous charges like these it can be helpful to stress that the chief point of these verses is to exhort us to pursue Jesus above all else; thus, we ought to address and not deny the issues that hold us back and prevent us from seeking after Jesus wholeheartedly. 49 Similarly, to argue that our entire pasts (i.e., all of our history, wounds, and hurts) were dealt with at our conversions is to ignore the doctrine of sanctification, which accentuates “the process of growth in Christian love,” 50 and to propagate magical and nonsensical thinking. What is more accurate is to say that transpersonal forgiveness enables our spirits to be renewed at conversion (Jn. 3: 6–7) and transpersonal, self, intrapersonal, and interpersonal forgiveness help us to mature in the ways of love.

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A third challenge spotlights the question of what options are available to us when we have regular contact with our unrepentant violators who continue to wound us. There are no easy responses in situations like this, especially when the wrongdoers are parents, children, spouses, employers, pastors, colleagues, and the like. One possibility is for us to seek professional advice and enlist prayer support. Another is to employ Marshall Rosenberg’s masterful Nonviolent Communication principles to communicate clearly to our offenders at affective, factual, rational, and behavioral levels. 51 Alternatively, it may be necessary to negotiate changes in behavior via the use of proven negotiating paradigms. 52 Or, there may be cause to establish clearly defined boundaries for safety, involve others as witnesses (see Matt 18:15–17), sever the relationship, and/or pursue legal ends. There may also be the need to accept that the wrongdoers are not going to change, which might be what it means “to let go and let God.” Understanding the issue at stake and the processes of forgiveness will help forgivers to choose the most appropriate response. By facing and not hiding from challenging questions and dilemmas like the ones discussed above, it is hoped that we will be liberated to continue with our forgiveness journeys. Target Future Forgiveness Goals Effectual forgiveness journeys from deep hurts are ongoing and are rarely completed by working through a step-by-step forgiveness process in restricted periods of time. Accordingly, the final stage of the HEART forgiveness schema encourages people journeying through the content of The Forgiveness Matters Course to target realistic forgiveness goals and strategies that will enable them to further their progress and deepen their understanding of forgiveness post-course. Ideally, we should only set forgiveness goals for ourselves that are in harmony with God’s will, the welfare of others, and our present resources. If we fail to consider the support and resources available to us we might discover to our bitter consternation that we are simply unable to continue with our forgiveness work. For instance, if we neglect to take stock of our financial situations and decide to process our wounds with the support of a licensed therapist only to run out of money mid-journey and thereby stop our forgiveness work, we may have been better advised to work with a good friend or pastoral caregiver from the outset. Forgiveness goals and strategies are ostensibly limitless. Transpersonal forgiveness examples include creating personal rituals (e.g., walking along a favorite beach once per month whilst breathing out anger and breathing in love, or thanking God for God’s liberal forgiveness). Or, making a commitment to name sin as sin whenever we encounter it. Illustrations of self-forgiveness goals could incorporate praying for the desire and ability to abandon all self-defeating concepts, or asking God

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and close friends to alert us to any negative self-talk that we express. Intra-personal forgiveness examples could involve writing a series of letters to process our resentment that might be incinerated or read out to a third-party, or making a commitment to working through a book on forgiveness every six months. And samples of interpersonal forgiveness goals could include finding ways to keep our hearts open to the possibility of renewed relationships with those who hurt us, or placing our violators’ names into Psalm 139 and praying through the Psalm once a week. To choose a forgiveness goal at this point of the HEART forgiveness schema elicits hope as it reveals people’s hunger for ongoing forgiveness, healing, growth, and perhaps even embrace. It also reflects a desire to journey through forgiveness when it really hurts. Eric’s Story Eric seemed to be almost invisible when he arrived for the first session of The Forgiveness Matters Course that I was facilitating in his town. 53 Despite being a tall, athletic-looking man in his early forties with an outwardly pleasant and calm disposition, not one of the other group members appeared to notice him. I was the only person who talked with him. This piqued my interest as I tried to reconcile this first-hand experience of Eric with the confident tone that I thought I had detected in the pre-course forms that he had sent me. Later that evening, space was created for the group members to introduce themselves in any way they wished. Eric shared, “My name is Eric. I’m married with children. My internal world is in disarray and I’m barely holding things together. I know I have to address my father stuff, but part of me doesn’t want to and I have no idea how to go about it.” His anguish was palpable and his body language and tone of voice was that of a young boy. Eric remained quiet for most of the time throughout the first few course meetings; though, there were a few notable exceptions. When I shared my story of struggling to forgive my father he simply said, “Phew.” I interpreted this exclamation as a sign of relief that I was sharing from an experiential perspective as opposed to exclusively a theoretical one. Similarly, when I reflected on some of the ways that God lovingly pursues us and illustrated this via God’s pursuit of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3 and Cain in Genesis 4, Eric expressed, “that’s good to know.” And when another group member stated that she was thrilled to learn that I believed forgiveness did not dictate that she had to deny the cruelty she had suffered, or be reconciled with the people who had harmed her, Eric uttered, “Hallelujah!” After a few group members had shared extracts of their own stories during our third meeting, Eric volunteered the following: “From my earliest days my father has repeatedly called me a worm and a sinner, be-

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cause in his eyes that is what the Bible states I am.” Unsurprisingly, Eric had struggled under this one-sided and repetitive diatribe and despite his many attempts to connect with his father (e.g., he successfully completed an apprenticeship in the same trade as his father) he was unable to please or bond with him. By the time Eric was in his late teens the two men were barely on speaking terms, yet this did not stop his father from reminding Eric that he was “a worm and a sinner.” Throughout Eric’s twenties the two men had little to do with each other and by the time of The Forgiveness Matters Course they had not seen or communicated with each other for over a decade. Eric stated that three points particularly galled him: “My father has never once told me that he loves me; he has never acknowledged my skill as a tradesperson; and he is now hurting my own family through his absence and refusal to respond to my wife’s attempts to introduce him to our children.” Eric subsequently reported that he found sharing his story with the group very sobering and humbling, yet also extremely helpful. It was sobering as it was the first time he had ever articulated his whole story to a cluster of people. The experience enabled him to register the gravity of his upbringing in a fresh way. It was humbling since every group member listened to him empathetically and thereby demonstrated to him that his inner world mattered. And it was helpful, because he overcame his default mode of inconspicuousness and as a result became more known to himself and others. 54 Another positive fruit that emerged for Eric after he had shared his story was that he suddenly felt energized to engage with the course material. From a Heeding Your Wounds perspective, this equated to him journaling about his father’s psychological, emotional, and spiritual offenses, as well as their perceived effects on his life (e.g., his anger and repetitive thoughts about his father’s offenses). He also wrote about his father’s exclusionary attitudes of elimination, domination, and abandonment. In these and other ways, Eric championed the principle of engaging with one’s wounds at both cognitive and affective levels, which helped him to forgive from a deep place in his heart. In the Exploring Why People May Have Wounded You phase of the HEART forgiveness schema, Eric was surprised to recall that his father had largely grown up apart from his own father. Eric conceded that this may have influenced the way his father had treated him, in that he was parenting from a place of deficit and ignorance. Eric also became angry towards the fundamentalist church that contributed to his father’s “wonky theology.” Fortunately, this insight did not tempt Eric to whitewash over his father’s wrongs. If it had and Eric had excused his father’s wrongdoing, he would have had nothing to forgive and as a result he would have excluded himself from the conceivable benefits of forgiveness. Upon reflection, Eric felt that these insights softened his hardness towards his father a little.

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As Eric worked through the Acknowledging Key Christian Traditions That Inform Your Understanding of Forgiveness section of the schema, he felt compelled to seek forgiveness from God for dishonoring his parents and hating his father. He confessed his hatred to God and tried to forgive himself for his self-labelled reactionary sins to being hurt—namely, his practice of isolating himself from his wife and children, his lack of drive, and his “Peter Pan persona” (i.e., his reluctance to grow up and accept responsibility). Consequently, Eric asked his wife and children to forgive him for his pattern of shutting down and withdrawing. He also concluded that his father would never be able to give him the love that he longed for; accordingly, in a symbolic act of intrapersonal forgiveness in the privacy of his own home and heart, Eric released his father from these expectations and consciously forgave him. I immediately noticed that Eric looked different when he arrived at our sixth group meeting. He seemed to be radiant. Upon inquiry, Eric declared that he had forgiven his father in the past few days and that he felt “amazingly liberated.” He also spoke of feeling positively separated from his father and more confident in his identity. The next week’s events took us all by surprise. Eric arrived at our seventh meeting with an enormous smile. This time he did not wait to be asked to share, but rather blurted out: “You’ll never guess what happened to me two days ago. I arrived home from work in the late afternoon to discover my father working in our garden after having already mowed our lawns. When I got out of the car he walked up to me, embraced me, and for the first time in my life said, ‘Son, I love you.’” Eric was gobsmacked! Both men wept, as did some of us as we listened to his account. The fact that Eric and his father had not seen each other for over a decade and that Eric’s father did not know that his son was taking part in a forgiveness course to work through his issues with him serves to make this event even more remarkable. What had happened? So far as Eric and his fellow group members were concerned, the explanation for the father’s appearance was straightforward: forgiveness had broken the power of sin that had separated the men and in some mysterious way had enabled the father to return and embrace his son. Alternatively, Eric’s forgiveness efforts and all that lay behind them (e.g., God’s grace, his wife’s love, and people’s prayers) had created space for the miracle of forgiveness to transpire. Eric’s story clearly underscores the inextricable connections that exist between people at unconscious levels. Here, the sin-stained objects, expectations, longings, and hopes within both men that had formerly kept them apart diminished when Eric began to forgive his father. Due to the unconscious connection between them, Eric’s father knew that his son had changed and consequently perceived that it was time and safe to step towards him. Eric did not need a rational explanation for the miracle. He was in celebratory mode.

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Unsurprisingly, the questions that arose for Eric in the Review Any Questions and Dilemmas You Have and the Target Future Forgiveness Goals sections of the HEART Forgiveness schema were unique. His challenge was to determine how to relate to his father in this new season. Happily, I can report that Eric has had considerable success in this as he informed me recently that his father and he were “getting on pretty well.” In the same conversation, Eric mentioned that he was “retraining in a new career,” that his children were “more settled,” and that he had become more interested in God. IMPLICATIONS AND SUMMARY What can we deduce from Eric’s remarkable account and this study? An obvious point is that forgiveness matters! Forgiveness not only helps to counter the far-reaching and dire ongoing effects of sin, silence, and unprocessed wounds, but it can also help to (re)connect forgivers to others, self, God, life, and even the future. Eric’s narrative supports these claims, as do the changes in the lives of his father and children. A further implication is that forgiveness education is extremely important. Eric’s story illustrates that especially in the face of deep wounding, forgiveness can be taught and appropriated. The church needs to take up the challenge of educating people in the art of forgiveness in new, intelligent, and sustained ways. Of course, to do this effectively, church leaders will first need to address their own wounds, learn about the processes of forgiveness, and model forgiveness in their own lives. Eric’s “Phew” cited above endorses this charge. But how can exhortations to educate the masses about forgiveness find traction in the hustle and bustle of everyday life and the cacophony of voices contending for our attention? One way is to lead persons through The Forgiveness Matters Course. This involves six key steps: 1. Establishing a Pastoral Foundation for Forgiveness: Here, we are urged to ponder our triune God’s proclivity towards forgiveness; explore some common myths and misbeliefs connected with forgiveness; and consider various definitions of and paths towards forgiveness. 2. Heed Our Wounds: In this step, we are encouraged to examine the various ways we have been hurt along with the effects of and the attitudes behind the offenses. The purpose of this engagement is for us to identify and articulate clearly the concrete wrongs that have been committed against us to process them at cognitive and affective levels. 3. Explore Why People May Have Wounded You: This next optional stage invites us to consider the factors that might have influenced people to hurt us. The purpose of these investigations is to uncover any information about our violators (or ourselves) that elicits a meas-

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ure of insight, understanding, and/or empathy within us, which, in turn, assists us to forgive. 4. Acknowledging Key Christian Traditions That Inform Your Understanding of Forgiveness: At this juncture, we are bade to engage (usually sequentially) with the interconnected critical concepts of transpersonal, self, intrapersonal, and interpersonal forgiveness to facilitate forgiveness, healing, and greater connections. 5. Review Any Questions and Dilemmas You Have: We are then advised to voice any forgiveness related problems or questions that might have emerged for us, so that they might not terminate our forgiveness journeys, but rather be worked through. 6. Target Future Forgiveness Goals: With this the final step of The Forgiveness Matters Course we are exhorted to target realistic forgiveness goals and strategies that will assist us to carry on with our forgiveness progress post-course and hopefully experience some breakthroughs as Eric did. People frequently ask me, “What does forgiveness look like?” Sometimes I am tempted to point them to stories of transformation like Eric’s. On other occasions, I discuss the content described in this chapter. But at other times, I am almost tongue-tied for surely no tidy definition or description can do justice to the liberating work of forgiveness. For me, forgiveness is a process and a series of events within a larger process. It is an attitude, a way of life, and a collaborative adventure. It integrates transpersonal, self, intrapersonal, and interpersonal forgiveness, as well as our emotions, heads, and bodies. Forgiveness describes a way forward. Experts from numerous fields highlight that it can help people to process their wounds; individuate; mature; heal; experience improved mental health; and as stated above achieve a greater level of peace and reconciliation with God, others, themselves, and life. Yet, forgiveness is also much more than all of this. Forgiveness is Godbreathed. God’s forgiving love gifted us with Christ; Christ embodied forgiving love in his life, death, and resurrection; and God’s Spirit is present to guide us in the ways of forgiving love. Viewed in this light, we can join with Volf and say that “Forgiveness is the boundary between exclusion and embrace” 55 and that “Christ is the boundary between the exclusionary practices of sin and the embrace of God.” In other words, wherever there is forgiveness, there, too, is Christ. And wherever Christ is we can be sure of the ever-expanding art of forgiveness. NOTES 1. Charles L. Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007), xiii.

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2. See for example Philip J. Halstead, “The Forgiveness Matters Course: A Theologically and Psychologically Integrated Approach to Help Churchgoing Adults Process Their Parental Wounds,” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 14.2 (2012): 85–110. 3. The rationale for the length of the course and the size of the course groups is explained in Philip J. Halstead, “Designing the Forgiveness Matters Course: An A to Z Guide,” Pacific Journal of Baptist Research 8.2 (2013): 45–67, 52–54. More recently, the course has been presented in lecture and seminar formats to reach larger numbers of people and to collect yet-to-be analyzed data to verify which presentation mode is the most effective. 4. See for example Robert D. Enright and Richard P. Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive: An Empirical Guide for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2000), 245–249. 5. See for example Halstead, “The Forgiveness Matters Course,” 94–97. 6. See for example Robert D. Enright, Forgiveness Is a Choice: A Step-by-Step Process for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope (Washington, DC: APA Life Tools, 2001), 15–16. 7. See for example Philip J. Halstead and Michael Hautus, “Defending the God Beyond: The Development of the A God-scale—A New Instrument for the Assessment of People’s Perceptions, Experiences, and Activities in Relationship to God—and Its Initial Use in a Forgiveness Study,” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 15.3 (2013): 160–185. 8. I am not aware of any extant forgiveness course that combines the theological and psychological insights contained in The Forgiveness Matters Course. 9. For an explanation of these points see Halstead, “Designing the Forgiveness Matters Course,” 53–54. 10. Leon Morris, “Forgiveness,” in New Bible Dictionary 2nd rev. ed. Ed. James D. Douglas (Leicester: InterVarsity Press, 1982), 390–391. 11. William C. Morro and Roland K. Harrison, “Forgiveness,” in The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia Vol. 2. Ed. Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 340–344. 12. Megory Anderson and Philip Culbertson, “The Inadequacy of the Christian Doctrine of Atonement in Light of Levitical Sin Offering,” Anglican Theological Review 68.4 (1986): 303–328. 13. John F. MacArthur, The Freedom and Power of Forgiveness (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1998), 17. 14. Morris, Forgiveness, 391. 15. Frederick W. Keene, “Structures of Forgiveness in the New Testament,” in Violence Against Women and Children: A Christian Theological Sourcebook, eds. Carol J. Adams and Marie M. Fortune (New York: Continuum, 1995), 121–134. 16. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 157. 17. See for example John Arnott, What Christians Should Know About the Importance of Forgiveness (Kent: Sovereign World, 1997), 12. 18. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 69. 19. Marjorie H. Suchocki, The Fall to Violence: Original Sin in Relational Theology (New York: Continuum, 1994), 150–151. 20. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 69–71. 21. Jones, Embodying Forgiveness, 5. 22. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), 125. 23. William P. Young, The Shack: Where Tragedy Confronts Eternity (Newbury Park, CA: Windblown Media, 2007), 246. 24. See for example L. William Countryman, Forgiven and Forgiving (Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse Publishing, 1998), 53. 25. See, for example, Curt Thompson, Anatomy of the Soul: Surprising Connections Between Neuroscience and Spiritual Practices That Can Transform Your Life and Relationships (Carol Stream, IL: SaltRiver, 2010), 230.

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26. Philip J. Halstead, “Clearing the Way to Forgiveness: Acknowledging Parental Offences and Theological Misinterpretations,” Colloquium 43.2 (2011): 229–252, 230–242. 27. Philip J. Halstead, “Have My Parents Sinned Against Me? Exploring the Concept of Sin in the Pastoral Context,” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 12.1 (2010): 43–62, 48. 28. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 71–75. 29. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 69. 30. Neville Symington, Emotion and Spirit: Questioning the Claims of Psychoanalysis and Religion (London: Cassell, 1994), 179–180. 31. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 74–76. 32. Daniel L. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 133. 33. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 75. 34. James W. Pennebaker, Writing to Heal: A Guided Journal for Recovering from Trauma and Emotional Upheaval (Oakland, CA: Harbinger, 2004), 25–26. 35. For example, some people might choose to process their wounds via drawing symbolic pictures, or if they choose to write they may use their non-dominant hands. 36. Enright and Fitzgibbons, Helping Clients Forgive, 69. 37. Cornelius Plantinga Jr., Not the Way It Is Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 25–27. 38. Anthony Bash, Just Forgiveness: Exploring the Bible, Weighing the Issues (London: SPCK, 2011), 81. 39. John Sandford and Mark Sandford, Deliverance and Inner Healing rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Chosen, 2008), 62–63. 40. Robert D. Enright and The Human Development Study Group, “Counseling Within the Forgiveness Triad: On Forgiving, Receiving Forgiveness, and Self-forgiveness,” Counseling and Values 40.2 (1996) 107–126, 114. 41. Countryman, Forgiven and Forgiving, 24. 42. Countryman, Forgiven and Forgiving, 33–34. 43. Charles Stanley, The Gift of Forgiveness (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1987), 136. 44. John M. Berecz, “All that Glitters Is Not Gold: Bad Forgiveness in Counseling and Preaching,” Pastoral Psychology 49.4 (2001): 253–275, 255. 45. John F. MacArthur, The Freedom and Power of Forgiveness, 122. 46. Deborah Van Deusen Hunsinger “Forgiving Abusive Parents: Psychological and Theological Considerations,” in Forgiveness and Truth, eds. Alistair McFadyen and Marcel Sarot (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2001), 71–98, 83–87. 47. Jay E. Adams, From Forgiven to Forgiving (Wheaton, IL: Victor Books, 1989), 22–24. 48. See for example Chantal Hofstee, Mindfulness on the Run: Quick, Effective Mindfulness Techniques for Busy People (Woolombi, NSW, Australia: Exisle Publishing, 2016). 49. Halstead, Clearing the Way for Forgiveness, 247. 50. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding, 177. 51. Marshall B. Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life (Encinitas, CA: PuddleDancer Press, 2003). 6. 52. David Riddell, Living Wisdom: Life and Counselling Skills Level 1 and 2 (Nelson, New Zealand: David Riddell, 2010), 5.3–5.3B. 53. Eric is a pseudonym. Ethics approval was sought and obtained from the University of Auckland’s Human Participants Ethics Committee to run the course/s from which Eric’s story is drawn. This involved obtaining people’s consent for their stories to be written up in articles. Quotation marks are utilized whenever Eric’s exact words are cited. 54. Stephanie Dowrick, The Intimacy and Solitude Self-therapy Book (Birkenhead, Auckland, New Zealand: Reed Books, 1993), 196–197. 55. Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 125.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Adams, Jay E. From Forgiven to Forgiving. Wheaton, IL: Victor Books, 1989. Anderson, Megory, and Philip Culbertson. “The Inadequacy of the Christian Doctrine of Atonement in Light of Levitical Sin Offering.” Anglican Theological Review 68.4 (1986): 303–328. Arnott, John. What Christians Should Know About the Importance of Forgiveness. Kent: Sovereign World, 1997. Bash, Anthony. Just Forgiveness: Exploring the Bible, Weighing the Issues. London: SPCK, 2011. Berecz, John M. “All that Glitters Is Not Gold: Bad Forgiveness in Counseling and Preaching.” Pastoral Psychology 49.4 (2001): 253–275. Countryman, L. William. Forgiven and Forgiving. Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse Publishing, 1998. Dowrick, Stephanie. The Intimacy and Solitude Self-therapy Book. Birkenhead, Auckland, New Zealand: Reed Books, 1993. Enright, Robert D. Forgiveness Is a Choice: A Step-by-Step Process for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope. Washington, DC: APA Life Tools, 2001. Enright, Robert D., and Richard P. Fitzgibbons. Helping Clients Forgive: An Empirical Guide for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2000. Enright, Robert D., and The Human Development Study Group. “Counseling Within the Forgiveness Triad: On Forgiving, Receiving Forgiveness, and Self-forgiveness.” Counseling and Values 40.2 (1996) 107–126. Griswold, Charles L. Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Halstead, Philip J. “Have My Parents Sinned Against Me? Exploring the Concept of Sin in the Pastoral Context.” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 12.1 (2010): 43–62. ———. “Clearing the Way to Forgiveness: Acknowledging Parental Offences and Theological Misinterpretations.” Colloquium 43.2 (2011): 229–252. ———. “The Forgiveness Matters Course: A Theologically and Psychologically Integrated Approach to Help Churchgoing Adults Process Their Parental Wounds.” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 14.2 (2012): 85–110. ———. “Designing the Forgiveness Matters Course: An A to Z Guide.” Pacific Journal of Baptist Research 8.2 (2013): 45–67. Halstead, Philip J., and Michael Hautus. “Defending the God Beyond: The Development of the A God-scale—A New Instrument for the Assessment of People’s Perceptions, Experiences, and Activities in Relationship to God—and Its Initial Use in a Forgiveness Study.” Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health 15.3 (2013): 160–185. Hofstee, Chantal. Mindfulness on the Run: Quick, Effective Mindfulness Techniques for Busy People. Woolombi, NSW, Australia: Exisle Publishing, 2016. Jones, L. Gregory. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Keene, Frederick W. “Structures of Forgiveness in the New Testament.” Pages 121–134 in Violence Against Women and Children: A Christian Theological Sourcebook. Edited by Carol J. Adams and Marie M. Fortune. New York: Continuum, 1995. MacArthur, John F. The Freedom and Power of Forgiveness. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1998. Migliore, Daniel L. Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. Morris, Leon. “Forgiveness.” Pages 390–391 in New Bible Dictionary 2nd rev. ed. Edited by James D. Douglas. Leicester: InterVarsity Press, 1982. Morro, William C., and Roland K. Harrison. “Forgiveness.” Pages 340–344 in The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia Vol. 2. Edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982.

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Pennebaker, James W. Writing to Heal: A Guided Journal for Recovering from Trauma and Emotional Upheaval. Oakland, CA: Harbinger, 2004. Plantinga, Cornelius, Jr. Not the Way It Is Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. Riddell, David. Living Wisdom: Life and Counselling Skills Level 1 and 2. Nelson, New Zealand: David Riddell, 2010. Rosenberg, Marshall B. Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life. Encinitas, CA: PuddleDancer Press, 2003. Sandford, John, and Mark Sandford. Deliverance and Inner Healing. Rev. ed. Grand Rapids: Chosen, 2008. Stanley, Charles. The Gift of Forgiveness. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1987. Suchocki, Marjorie H. The Fall to Violence: Original Sin in Relational Theology. New York: Continuum, 1994. Symington, Neville. Emotion and Spirit: Questioning the Claims of Psychoanalysis and Religion. London: Cassell, 1994. Thompson, Curt. Anatomy of the Soul: Surprising Connections Between Neuroscience and Spiritual Practices That Can Transform Your Life and Relationships. Carol Stream, IL: SaltRiver, 2010. Van Deusen Hunsinger, Deborah. “Forgiving Abusive Parents: Psychological and Theological Considerations.” Pages 71–98 in Forgiveness and Truth. Edited by Alistair McFadyen and Marcel Sarot. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2001. Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville: Abingdon, 1996. Young, William P. The Shack: Where Tragedy Confronts Eternity. Newbury Park, CA: Windblown Media, 2007.

Index

Abel, 73, 158, 226 Abimelech, 58 Abraham, 55, 58, 64n8, 93, 211 Abram, 58, 64n6 absolution, 43, 164, 174n53, 206, 211 accountability, 25, 103, 124, 135, 181, 197, 273 acknowledgment, 11, 20, 27, 29, 34n39, 37, 42, 47, 49, 75, 88, 95, 114, 137, 148, 159, 169, 180–181, 191, 194, 197, 212, 214, 226, 260, 275, 278 Ackroyd, Peter R., 51n37 Adam, 7–8, 271, 283 Adams, Dwayne, 90, 97n4 addiction, 209, 256 African National Congress, 179, 181, 184, 190 amnesty. See Truth and Reconciliation Commission Amos, 43, 48–49 Anabaptist, 99–107 Anderson, A. A., 51n37 Anderson, Megory, 288n12 anger, 68–69, 71–76, 104, 110, 114, 125, 143–149, 157–171, 272, 275, 279, 288n4 Anglem, Jim, 262n32–263n43 apartheid, 124, 181, 188, 195, 198n10, 201n61 apocalypse, 251, 253 apology, 18, 20, 27, 59, 114–115, 148–149, 153n54, 182, 201n55 Arendt, 81n2 Arnott, John, 288n17 Asmal, Kader, 198n10 Asmal, Louise, 198n10 Athanasius, 14n12 atonement, 13, 37, 39, 41, 47, 49, 71, 73, 74, 111, 114, 175n62, 205–206, 209, 270–271; day of, 205

Augsburger, 27, 31n4, 106–107, 109, 172n9, 174n49–175n72 Augustine, 172n9 Austin, John L., 32n11 Babylon, 252–257 Bachelard, Michael, 173n27, 176n99 baptism, 90–91, 104–105, 133 Baptist, 210 Barankitse, Maggy, 132 Barth, 12, 175n58 Bash, Anthony, 17, 81n2, 289n38 Bauckham, Richard, 251 Bauman, Elizabeth, 108n11 Baumgartner, Walter, 52 Becker, Lawrence C, 151n1 Bell, Avril, 236n19, 248 belonging, 107, 222–225, 229, 232–235, 249–257 Ben Sira, 67–75, 79–80 benefit, 26, 140–143, 148, 269–270, 276, 280, 284 Berecz, John M., 289n44 Bergen, Robert D., 51n27 Biko, Steve, 197n1–198n2 Binney, 221 bitterness, 28–29, 31, 101, 136, 159, 279 blame, 89, 135, 141, 173n20, 192–193, 196, 200n42, 202n67 blasphemy, 41, 44, 47, 111 Blenkinsopp, Joseph, 81n2 bless, 12, 60, 60–61, 89, 125, 130–131, 134, 213, 271 Bloesch, Donald G., 174n38–175n64, 208 Blomberg, Craig L., 31n4, 33n28 blood, 91, 171, 213, 226, 257–259 Blount, Brian, 264n79 Boesak, Allan, 177n106, 251–252 Bonhoeffer, 215, 227–228, 234 293

294

Index

Boraine, Alex A., 198n10 Borg, Marcus, 97n9 Botman, Russell, 198n10 boundary, 89, 91, 95, 167, 172n2, 205, 207, 210, 214, 216, 273, 282, 287 Boyle, Greg, 128 Brash, Donald, 223 Bray, Gerald, 174n37 Brenton, 51n33 Brethren Church, 158, 161–169, 167 Briggs, 17, 52 Brittain, Christopher C, 211, 214 Bruce, A. B., 8 Brueggemann, 50n21, 231 Bucer, Martin, 10–11 burden, 113, 141, 160, 168, 273 Butler, Joseph, 81n1, 152n32 Buttimer, Anne, 223 Cagle, Lisa, 214 Calvin, John, 9–11, 61 Calvinism, 9 Campbell, Alastair V., 172n14 Campbell, Douglas, 14n5 Campbell, John McLeod, 12 Campos, Paul, 153n64 Carey, Greg, 264n75 Carson, D. A., 25 Carter, J. Cameron, 15 Casey, Keree Louise, 172n12 catharsis, 114 Catholicism, 6, 9–10, 208–210 causation, 41 Chapman, Stephen B., 51n27 Charizesthai, 111 Charles, R. H., 84n47–84n57 child, moral responsibility of, 141 Chile, 181 Christ, 3, 7–13, 18, 26, 33n26, 63, 87, 107, 114–115, 118, 124–125, 133, 137, 139, 151, 157, 160–170, 187, 205–211, 213–214, 218, 227–231, 251–253, 256, 256–261, 271, 278, 287 Christocentric, 6 Christology, 7–9, 13, 90, 165, 228 church, 5–7, 63, 107, 171, 212–216, 221–227, 245–254, 256–257, 259–260, 269–270, 273, 276, 280, 286 circumstance, 26, 141, 275–276, 281

Coakley, Sarah, 250, 256 collective, 116–117, 183 colonization, 221–222, 225–226, 242, 246–248, 250, 260 Colwell, John, 216 commandment, 47, 69, 71, 75 communion, 134, 150, 170–171, 207–208, 210, 217, 274 community, 4–5, 24, 33n29, 39–40, 56, 72, 87–88, 90–91, 94–96, 107, 112, 116–117, 125–127, 130, 137, 141, 146, 148, 161, 171, 205–207, 209–215, 228, 231 compromise, 181, 182 condemnation, 27, 46, 158, 160, 164–165, 252 Constantineanu, Corneliu, 237n31 contextualization, 222, 231, 270 Corinthians: 1 Cor 7, 229–230; 1 Cor 11:17–34, 206 Corlett, J. Angelo, 153n54 Cortez, Marc, 14n11 covenant, 6–7, 11, 13, 48, 71–72, 75, 91, 174n44, 205, 229–230, 229–235 Cowley, A., 83n33 Crable, Ad, 108 creation, 7–8, 227–231, 250, 259 Creed, 13 Crenshaw, James L., 82n14 crime, 39, 43, 45, 100, 104, 113, 182, 187, 195, 197, 273 Crimone, Mickie, 64n2 cross, 9, 13, 24, 26, 91, 112, 114, 170, 172n15, 175n69, 259 Culbertson, Philip, 64n4, 288n12 culpability, 25, 140, 191, 277 culture, 63, 94, 105, 157–161, 163–164, 225–227, 235, 247–250 David (King), 42–47, 258, 280 Daye, Russell, 199n13 de Gruchy, John, 199n16 de Jonge, M., 83n38–84n53 death, 12, 71, 258 defense, 30, 196, 280 Di Lella, Alexander A., 81n5–82n14 Digeser, P.E., 151n5–152n20 Dowrick, Stephanie, 290 Duff, 214

Index

295

Easter, 123–124, 133 Edersheim, A., 81n9 Eli, 37–49 Emanuel, Gary, 64n2 Enright, Robert D., 173n21, 175n59–176n80, 272, 275, 278 ethic, 139, 180, 182–183, 205, 209, 211, 215, 217, 227–235, 248 Eucharist, 169, 192, 205–216 evangelicalism, 9–13 Evans, Craig A, 83n36 Eve, 7–8, 271, 283 evil, 5, 33n27, 70, 76, 105, 123–124, 149, 158, 162–163, 180, 249 excommunication, 104, 158, 161, 167, 169 Exodus 32, 47–48 exoneration, 159–160, 164, 173n20, 248, 253

generosity, 142, 149, 164, 171, 183, 209, 211, 278 Gentile, 8, 90, 229, 249, 252 Gert, Bernard, 152n23 Gibbons, Peter, 224 gift, forgiveness as a, 3, 22, 142, 150, 164, 234 Gobodo-Madikizela, Pumla, 199n13 Govier, Trudy, 153n58 Gray, Claire, 262n32–263n50, 266n125 Grenz, Stanley, 210 grief, 10, 96, 161, 169 Griswold, Charles L, 81n1, 85, 149, 152n21–153n63, 287n1 guilt, 4, 19, 42, 45, 47, 68–71, 76–78, 103, 113, 117, 124, 159–160, 163–161, 167, 170, 197, 211, 246, 270–271 guiltlessness, 159, 164 Guy, Laurie, 265n103

Feinberg, Joel, 151n11 fellowship, 211, 271, 278 Feminist, 265n99 Fiddes, Paul, 174n52–175n61 Firth, David, 34n45, 41, 44, 46 Fischer, Kathleen, 172n8, 175n71–176n82 Fitzgibbons, Richard P., 173n21, 175n59–176n80, 272, 275 Fitzmeyer, Joseph, 64n1 forget, 27, 32n9, 101, 106, 111, 141, 159, 161, 183, 188, 191, 210, 233, 260, 272–273, 281 forgo, 27, 29, 104, 110, 142–143 Fox, Michael V., 82n19 Francis (Pope), 210 freedom, 4, 7–8, 13, 90–91, 109, 111, 191, 206, 209, 212, 215, 279 Friedman, Edwin, 56–57 friendship, 5, 107, 110, 128, 134 Friesen, Steven J., 264n77 Froese, Deborah, 65 fulfilment, 4, 7, 12, 61–62, 133 Furtak, Rick Anthony, 147

Habets, Myk, 172n1, 175n62 habit, 5, 73, 126–127, 133–134, 186, 213 Halstead, Philip, 88, 92, 94, 95, 118 Hamilton, Kelly, 173n23 Hamilton, Victor, 61, 64n11 Hampton, Jean, 151n8–153n53 harm, 4, 20, 26–28, 112–114, 116–118, 149–150, 160–161, 182, 189, 194, 207, 276–277 Harris, R. Laird, 109 Harrison, Beverly Wildung, 176n85–177n108 Harrison, James R., 33n30 Harrison, Roland K., 288n11 Hautus, Michael, 288n7 Hays, Richard B., 118n10 health, 72, 95, 96, 147, 248, 270, 276, 287 Hertzberg, Hans W., 49n2–51n33 Hieronymi, Pamela, 144–147 Hill, Andrew, 64n1 Hinz-Penner, Rayline, 108n13 Hofstee, Chantal, 289n48 Hollander, W. H., 83n38–83n32 Holmgren, Margaret R., 153n65 holy, 5, 110, 162–164, 170, 171, 205–212, 253, 257 Holy Spirit, 10–11, 125–127, 133, 137–138, 162, 165–169, 171, 210, 212–215, 228, 231, 271, 287

Gabriel, Ian, 180–181, 190, 197 Gad, Testament of, 67, 70, 75–80 Galston, William A., 151n13 Garrard, Eve, 145

296

Index

homosexual, 205, 217 hope, 9, 124, 126, 128, 130, 133–137, 139, 163–164, 166, 219, 228, 255, 271, 283 Hoskins, Judith Debetencourt, 138n5 Humphrey, Edith M., 264n94–265n107 Hunsinger, Deborah Van Deusen, 289n46 impenitence, 18, 20–25, 27–31, 216 imperialism, 242, 250–261 incarnation, 3, 7, 9, 11–13, 164–165, 227 indigenous, 63, 221–226, 247–250 inequality, 247, 257 injure, 32n15, 67–71, 74–79, 140, 272, 275–276 injustice, 141, 146, 149, 157–171, 223, 232, 241, 245, 255–256, 259, 269, 272 innocence, 25, 46, 91, 142, 168, 276 Irenaeus, 14n12 Jackson, Timothy P., 151n4 Jellicoe, R. L., 261n7–262n9 Jennings, Willie, 249, 252 Jerome, 158 Jerusalem, New, 253–257 John, Apocalypse of,. See Revelation Johnson, Ralph, 244 Jones, L. Gregory, 5, 32n18, 110, 112, 207, 211–214, 216 Jones, Robert D., 172n4–175n73 Jorgensen, Knud, 173n33, 177n110 judgment, 18, 19, 21, 23, 27, 29–30, 37–47, 49, 73, 76, 89, 141, 144–145, 149, 157–158, 160, 162–166, 168, 170–171, 182, 206, 212, 252, 254–256, 259 justice, 26–31, 39, 47, 70, 72–73, 75, 78–80, 96, 101, 110–111, 113–115, 139–151, 157, 162, 165–166, 170–171, 197, 222, 226, 252, 272, 287 justification, 12, 114, 140, 142 Kasdorf, Julia S., 173n25 Katongole, Emmanuel, 138n6, 174n35, 176n92 Kee, H. C., 83n35 Keene, Frederick W., 288n15 Kendrick, Graham, 178 Kettler, Christian D., 15n25

Klein, Ralph W., 39 Koester, Craig, 253 Kolnai, Aurel, 153n61 Konstan, David, 152n21 Krog, Antjie, 198n10–199n25, 203 Kugel, James, 69 Laodicean Church, 242, 252–253, 255–256, 259–261 Latin America, 181 Latino, 128 law, 69–247, 71, 74, 89, 95 legal, 4, 6, 10–11, 13, 42, 70, 175n56, 181–184, 195–196, 230, 233, 244, 282 Lehmann, 109 Lerner, Andrea J., 35 lesbian, 212 Lester, Andrew D., 172n5, 172n15–177n107 Levine, Baruch A., 81n13 Leviticus 19:17–18, 67–81 Lewis, C. S., x, 4, 11–13, 163 LGBT, 63 LGBTI, 212 liberty, 28, 197, 211, 271–274, 276, 282, 285, 287 Lichtenstein, Murray A., 83n33 Lichtheim, M., 82n19 Liddell, H. G., 81n6 Longenecker, Richard, 109 Luke: 12:10, 37; 17:3–4, 24, 79, 115; 23:34a, 24–25, 112 MacArthur, 279 Maier, Harry, 252 Malachi, 55, 64n1 Maluleke, Tinyiko, 198n10 manslaughter, 39 Māori, 139–227, 232–235, 241–248, 260 Mark 11:25, 80 Marshall, Christopher, 4–5, 151n6, 154 Martin, R. P., 237n37 martyrdom, 99, 104 Matthew: 6:14–15, 80, 111; 7:1–2, 73; 12:31–32, 37; 18:21–22, 24–25, 29, 112; 18:35, 79 Mayo, Maria, 31n4, 33n29 McCarter, P. Kyle, Jr., 50n3–51n37 McClendon, James, Jr., 210

Index McCutcheon, John, 107n2 McIntosh, Tracey, 236n9 McKnight, 209, 211 McLellan, Don, 31n4 McNaughton, 145 McSwain, Jeff, 14n15 meal. See Eucharist Meiring, Piet, 198n10 Mennonite, 105–106 mercy, 10–11, 21, 24, 51n25, 63, 71, 73–80, 114–115, 143, 149, 165–166, 183, 216, 272 metanarrative, 161–163, 166, 171 Meyer, Linda Ross, 153n65, 154 Meyers, Ruth A., 217n5 Migliore, Daniel, 289n32 Mikaere, Ani, 236n19, 247, 260 Mikolaski, S. J., 109 Milbank, John, 107 Milgrom, Jacob, 42–43, 47–48, 81n13 mission, implications for, 171 missionaries, 225–226, 234 Mitcalfe, Margaret, 246, 248, 260 Mitchell, Hilary, 261n5–263n40 Mitchell, John, 261n5–263n40 Moberly, R. C., 14n23–15n28, 48 Moroney, Stephen K., 174n39 Morris, Leon, 288n10 Morro, William C., 288n11 Müller-Fahrenholz, Geiko, 218n30 Munk, Kaj, 171 Muraoka, T., 81n6 Murphy, Jeffrie G., 81n1, 151n8–153n53 Musekura, Célestin, 124, 214 Neblett, William R., 151n7 neighbor, 4, 68–71, 74–77, 80 Nelson, Randy, 25 Neusner, Jacob, 50n15, 97n9 Neville, Richard, 34n42 New Zealand, 221–236, 241–249, 260–261 Newman, Keither, 236n21 Ngākuku, 96–97 Niebuhr, Reinhold, 117 Noble, Stuart, 227 Nolt, Steven M., 107n7, 173n24 Noth, Martin, 51n40 Novitz, David, 152n33

297

Numbers 15:30–31, 40–41 Nussbaum, Martha C., 155 Oesterley, W. O. E., 82n21 pain, 30, 153n47, 279–280 Pākehā, 222–225, 232–235, 241–261 Parry, Robin, 175n77–176n97 peace, 5, 52, 76–78, 97, 113–114, 133, 143, 182, 229, 234, 257–258, 287 peacemaking, 99, 107, 226 Pelagianism, 6, 9–10 penitence, 6–7, 10–13, 18, 20–24, 25, 26–31, 95 Pennebaker, James W., 270 Pettigrove, Glen, 152n36 Philippians 2:2–4, 205, 213–217 Plantinga, Cornelius, Jr., 277 postcolonialism, 226, 233, 248–249, 252–253 power, 42–45, 88, 110, 150, 161, 187, 195, 212, 241–243, 245–247, 249–261 priest, 37–38, 42–45, 47, 130 prodigal, 62, 91–92 psychology, 26, 94, 113, 115–117, 269, 275 Puketapu-Hetet, Erenora, 224 purgation, 250, 252, 256, 261 purity, 207–211 Purves, Andrew, 13 race, 106, 226, 241–242, 244, 247, 249–250 racism, 241–243, 245–251, 260–261 Radcliff, Alexandra S., 14n15–15n32 Radzik, Linda, 151n18–153n55 Ramaroson, Léonard, 92 redemption, 7, 9, 63, 90, 125, 133, 137, 213, 215, 248, 252–253, 278 regret, 182, 184, 194, 197 relationship, restoration of interpersonal, 4–5, 26, 110, 114, 117, 164, 228, 233–257, 270, 273, 283 remembrance, 5, 71, 159, 170–171, 186, 206, 212, 221–223, 260, 272 remorse, 34n39, 47, 182–184, 187–189 reparation, 34n39, 182 repentance, 3, 6–13, 18, 20–28, 30, 37, 41–43, 45–49, 76–79, 87–88, 90, 92,

298

Index

96, 109, 111–112, 114–117, 124–126, 130–131, 134, 136–137, 148, 162–166, 209, 215, 217, 226–227, 234, 241, 246, 249, 251–253, 256, 260–261, 271, 273, 277–278, 280 resentment, 113, 143–145, 147–149, 283 responsibility, 20–21, 29, 41, 77, 117, 134, 140–141, 145, 148, 179, 181, 185–187, 188, 191, 194, 196–197, 225, 228, 242–244, 248, 272, 278, 280, 285 Resseguie, James, 72 restoration, 4, 10, 26, 30, 109, 114, 116–117, 162, 164, 228–229, 233, 271 restorative justice, 101 resurrection, 8, 13, 26, 46, 133, 165, 167, 227–228, 271, 287 retaliation, 115, 147–149 retribution, 29, 31, 72–73, 75, 80, 101, 142, 163, 190, 273 Revelation, 251–259 Rice, Chris, 174n34, 176n92 Riddell, David, 263n52 righteousness, 6, 12, 68, 73, 146, 158–159, 162–163, 165, 168–170 Roberts, Ronald Suresh, 198n10 Rome. See imperialism Rosenberg, 282 Rossing, Barbara, 256–257, 265n99 rules, 19, 63, 140, 142, 146, 147 sacrament, 208 sacrifice, 28, 37–44, 46, 49, 71, 74, 88, 105, 114, 271 Sadurski, Wojciech, 151n14–151n19 salvation, 6, 8–9, 13, 18, 87, 90–95, 250 Samuel: 1 Sam 2–3, 37–43; 2 Sam 11–12, 43–46 sanctification, 8, 172n15, 281 Sandford, John, 277 Sandford, Mark, 277 Saul (King), 42–43, 45, 49 Scanlon, Thomas M., 153n45 Schreiter, Robert, 173n33, 177n110 Scott, R., 81n6 Sewell, Henry, 243 Shore, Megan, 199n13 Shriver, Donald, 110, 116 sin, 4–6, 8–11, 13, 18, 20, 24–26, 29, 37–49, 63, 71–72, 74, 76–77, 79,

87–92, 94–96, 109–115, 117, 123–124, 127, 130, 132, 137, 158–163, 165–166, 168–170, 187, 205–213, 215–217, 241, 250, 252, 270–275, 277–280, 282, 285–287 Sirach: 19:13–17, 68–71, 79–80; 27:30–28:7, 71–75 Skehan, Patrick W., 81n5–81n9 Smedes, Lewis B., 32n18 Smith, Henry P., 49n2 Smith, Tara, 151n12 Snaith, John G., 82n14 sociology, 227, 229 social restoration, 124, 222, 226–231, 232–234 solidarity, Christ’s ontological, 7–9, 11 South Africa, xi, 177n109, 179–185 Speidell, Todd, 237n38 Stanley, A. P., 206 Stanley, Charles, 278 Stansell, Gary, 64n9 Strahan, Joshua M., 34n31 Suchocki, Marjorie H., 288n19 Supererogation, 116, 142 Swinburne, Richard, 31n4, 153n56 Symington, Neville, 275 Tārore, 96–97 therapy, 28–29, 56 Thomason, Krista K, 153n59 Thompson, Curt, 288n25 Torrance, Andrew, 10 Torrance, James, 6–7, 164 Torrance, Thomas, 8, 12–13 tradition, 8–9, 56–57, 67, 70, 79, 80, 94, 96–97, 99, 106, 126, 128, 133–134, 214–215, 226–227, 277, 285, 287 transformation, 42, 63, 95, 125, 130–132, 135, 159, 197, 208–210, 215, 227, 269–270, 277, 287 trust, 11–12, 49, 60, 125–126, 131, 135, 137, 170, 272–275 Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 181, 198n10 Turner, Stephen, 225, 235 Tutu, Desmond, 123, 181–183 unity, 207–211

Index unrepentance, 20, 23–25, 116, 131, 161, 164–158, 273, 279, 282 van Braght, Thieleman J., 107n1 van der Horst, P. W., 82n17 VanderKam, James C., 83n36 Vanhoozer, Kevin J., 173n32 vicarious humanity of Jesus, 3, 11–12 victim, 4, 20, 26–31, 141–142, 145–150, 160, 162, 167, 171, 182, 184, 197, 273, 275 victory, 256–259 Waever-Zercher, David L.., 173n24 Waitangi Tribunal, 243, 260

299

Waltke, Bruse K., 50n9 Webster, John, 227–228 Weitzel, Shelby, 152n32 well-being, 113, 144, 147 West, Cornell, 177n109 Wildberger, Hans, 50n10 Wolterstorff, Nicholas, 27, 172n10–175n56 Worthington, Everett, 20–21, 174n47 Yoder, John Howard, 107 Zacchaeus, 273–44 Zahniser, James, 214 Zerbe, Gordon M., 69

About the Contributors

Dr. Kit Barker is lecturer in Old Testament at Sydney Missionary and Bible College. He and his family attend Narrabeen Baptist Church, where Kit serves as an elder. He is the author of Imprecation as Divine Discourse: Speech Act Theory, Dual Authorship, and Theological Interpretation (Eisenbrauns, 2016) and the coeditor of Finding Lost Words: The Church’s Right to Lament (Wipf & Stock, 2017). Rev. Dale Campbell is married to Diane and they have one son. He is currently completing a master’s thesis on Baptist worship in Aotearoa New Zealand and was in pastoral ministry for twelve years. His hobbies include woodworking, photography, and music. He has published “Sin in Secular Ears: A Theo-Biblical and Sociological Exploration for Communicating the Doctrine of Sin in Aotearoa New Zealand” in the Pacific Journal of Baptist Research and a sermon in Kiwimade Narrative Sermons (Archer Press, 2015). Rev. Dr. David P. Gushee is Distinguished University Professor of Christian Ethics and director of the Center for Theology and Public Life at Mercer University, USA. One of the premier ethical thinkers in American Christianity, he is the author of twenty-one books. He serves as president-elect of the American Academy of Religion and president of the Society of Christian Ethics. He is also the pastor of the fourteen-hundredmember First Baptist Church of Decatur, Georgia. Rev. Dr. Myk Habets is dean of faculty, lecturer in systematic theology, and head of Carey Graduate School, Carey Baptist College, Auckland, New Zealand. Myk is registered as a Minister of the Baptist Churches of New Zealand and is married with two children. His publications include: Theosis in the Theology of Thomas Torrance (Ashgate, 2009), The Anointed Son (Pickwick, 2010), and Theology in Transposition (Fortress, 2013). He has also edited numerous works such as Third Article Theology (Fortress, 2016), Theology and the Experience of Disability (Routledge, 2016) and has published numerous journal articles. Myk is the senior editor of Pacific Journal of Baptist Research and is associate editor for Paticipatio Journal. Dr. Philip Halstead lectures in applied theology with a specialty in pastoral care and counseling at Carey Baptist College, Auckland, New Zea301

302

About the Contributors

land. He also heads up the Pastoral Care Department at St. Augustine’s Anglican Church, Auckland. He is married to Angelika and they have one adult daughter. Philip has published extensively on forgiveness, including a trilogy of forgiveness-related articles in the Journal of Spirituality in Mental Health. He has also published in the areas of pastoral care, mental health, and applied theology. Rev. Dr. Sarah Harris is a lecturer in biblical studies at Carey Baptist College, Auckland, New Zealand, and is also an Anglican priest in the Diocese of Auckland. She is married to Craig and they have four adult children. Her academic interest is primarily in the Gospel of Luke. She is the author of The Davidic Shepherd King in the Lukan Narrative (T&T Clark, 2016) and has written articles for Feminist Theology (Sage), Colloquium, and several chapters for edited books. She is currently writing on critical issues in Luke for Zondervan and Christology for T&T Clark. Rev. Mark S. Hurst and his wife, Mary, are pastors of the Anabaptist Association of Australia and New Zealand (AAANZ) and at Avalon Baptist Peace Memorial Church in Avalon Beach, Australia. Both are mission workers with the Mennonite Mission Network (USA) and ordained ministers in the Mennonite Church Eastern Canada. They have three adult children and four grandchildren. Mark has a master’s degree in peace studies from the Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary (USA). Mary and Mark have led workshops and taught in church institutions for the past thirty-five years in the areas of conflict transformation and peacebuilding. Mark’s publications include a chapter in Reimagining God and Mission entitled “Walking in the Resurrection: An Anabaptist Approach to Mission in Australia” (ATF Press, 2007). Rev. Belinda Jacomb is a recent graduate of Carey Baptist College’s pastoral ministry training track. She is now a pastor at Karori Baptist Church in Wellington, New Zealand, along with her husband, Tim. Belinda’s publications include a chapter in Doing Integrative Theology (Archer Press, 2015). Dr. L. Gregory Jones is dean of the Divinity School, Duke University, North Carolina, USA (a position he also held from 1997 to 2010). He is also senior fellow for leadership education at Duke Divinity and senior fellow for the Fuqua-Coach K Center on Leadership and Ethics at Duke’s Fuqua School of Business. Greg is an ordained United Methodist minister and is married with three children and one grandchild. He is the author or editor of sixteen books, including Embodying Forgiveness (Eerdmans, 1995), the coauthored Forgiving as We’ve Been Forgiven with Célestin Musekura (IVP, 2010), and most recently Christian Social Innovation (Abingdon, 2016). He is also the author of more than two hundred articles and

About the Contributors

303

essays. Greg is an associate editor for the journal Modern Theology and an editor-at-large for Christian Century. Dr. Richard Neville is a senior lecturer in biblical studies on the Christchurch campus of Laidlaw College in New Zealand. His research interests focus on aspects of biblical ethics. He is married to Barbara and they have five children. Rev. Andrew Picard is a lecturer in public theology at Carey Baptist College, Auckland, New Zealand. He is registered as a Minister of the Baptist Churches of New Zealand, is married, and has two children. Andrew’s research interests are in the intersection of systematic theology and public theology. He has published book chapters and articles on Colin Gunton’s Doctrine of the Atonement, theology and social issues, postcolonial theology, Baptist theology, and theology and disability. He has edited a book on Theology and the Experience of Disability: Interdisciplinary Perspectives from Voices Down Under (Routledge, 2016), and, with Murray Rae and Myk Habets, he is editing The T&T Clark Companion to Colin Gunton. Andrew is the associate editor of Pacific Journal of Baptist Research and sits on the editorial board of Archer Press. Dr. Alistair Reese is a farmer, historian, and public theologian who lives with his wife, Jeannie, on their Bay of Plenty orchard in the district of Tapuika/Waitaha, New Zealand. He has postgraduate degrees in theology, history, and Tikanga Māori. Alistair is a research affiliate at the University of Otago and his research and speaking interests center on the New Zealand story with particular regard to postcolonial identity and reconciliation. Rev. Jonathan Robinson is a PhD candidate at the University of Otago, Dunedin, New Zealand. He has been a pastor of three churches in two different hemispheres; served on faculty at Carey Baptist College, Auckland, New Zealand; and is an award-winning street musician. He is married with four children. His research master’s was in sexual ethics in 1 Corinthians. He is currently researching the Gospel of Mark’s use of the Old Testament in its miracle accounts and its significance for Christology. Dr. Csilla Saysell is lecturer in Old Testament, Carey Baptist College, Auckland, New Zealand. Csilla is from Hungary and is married to a New Zealander. Her PhD (Durham University, UK) was on the intermarriage crisis of Ezra 9–10 exploring the way Pentateuchal laws were re-interpreted in the post-exilic period and considering how this controversial episode may be read as part of Christian Scripture. It was published as “According to the Law . . .”: Reading Ezra 9–10 as Christian Scripture (Eisen-

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About the Contributors

brauns, 2012). She is currently working on questions relating to the sacrificial system, atonement, and forgiveness in the Old Testament. Dr. David Tombs is the Howard Paterson Chair of Theology and Public Issues at the University of Otago, Aotearoa New Zealand, and a research associate at the University of Free State, Bloemfontein, South Africa. He has a longstanding interest in contextual and liberation theologies and is author of Latin American Liberation Theologies (Brill, 2002). His current research focuses on religion violence and peace and especially on Christian responses to gender-based violence, sexual abuse, and torture. He is originally from the United Kingdom and previously worked at the University of Roehampton in London (1992–2001) and then in Belfast, Northern Ireland, for the Irish School of Ecumenics, Trinity College Dublin (2001–2014) on a conflict resolution and reconciliation program. He has degrees in theology from Oxford (BA/MA, 1987), Union Theological Seminary New York (STM, 1988), and London (PhD, 2004), and in philosophy (MA London, 1993). Stephanie Worboys is a doctoral candidate in restorative justice at Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand, working under the supervision of Professor Chris Marshall. The topic of her PhD research is the relationship between forgiveness and justice. This research is designed to contribute to the philosophical discussion of this topic and to further elucidate the theoretical underpinnings of the restorative justice paradigm. She holds a BA in philosophy (cum laude) from Bethel University of St. Paul, Minnesota. After marrying a New Zealander and moving to Wellington, she completed an honors degree in philosophy (First Class) from Victoria University. There she first became interested in forgiveness and its relation to justice. Her research is supported by the St. John’s College Trust Board. She is currently a resident of St. John’s Theological College, Auckland.