Embracing the Other

Theological Reflections on Identity and Reconciliation

Feb 10, 2025

About the author: Rev. Andria Sarias, hailing from Tbilisi, Georgia, is a scholar whose journey began at Tbilisi Theological Seminary and culminated at the University of Georgia (PhD). He specializes in church history and theology, with most recently obtaining a ThM at Columbia Theological Seminary. He has had notable roles in both academic and spiritual institutions. Passionate about advancing knowledge, Andria has authored numerous publications, reflecting his dedication to scholarly discourse.

Miroslav Volf’s Exclusion and Embrace deeply moved and challenged me when I recently read it. His exploration of reconciliation, justice, and forgiveness resonated with my struggles as I reflected on the history of violence in my Georgian context. In the book’s preface, Jürgen Moltmann asks, “But can you embrace a cetnik?”— a question Volf answers with an honesty that struck me:—“No, I cannot, but as a follower of Christ, I believe I should be able to.”1

This response unsettled me as I thought of the atrocities committed by Mkhedrioni soldiers in Georgia—killings, brutal assaults on pregnant women, rapes, and burnings. If asked, “Can you accept or forgive me?” I fear my answer might also be no. Embracing these evils would feel nearly impossible despite my confession of Christ without true repentance and justice. However, I also consider that if God were to treat us all fairly, our chances of being justified would be essentially zero.

This question is unsettling as a personal reflection and a broader call to consider how we should collectively approach similar situations. In a world heavily nationalized, where borders define identities, injustice transcends boundaries and touches everyone’s heart. For Christians, the challenge begins when issues in one’s country are seen only as local concerns rather than universal Christian or human issues.2 Violence may directly impact me, but it also affects you when you hear of it—and it should move you to respond as if it impacts you, too. This realization has turned my journey through Exclusion and Embrace into a profoundly meaningful spiritual experience.

When a nation is driven by nationalism, it becomes challenging to avoid division. Without restraining powers, nationalism often deepens polarization, as seen in the case of Yugoslavia.3 Nationalism centered on identity also manifests in countries like China, India, Myanmar, and Russia.4 This is aptly illustrated in Volf’s following quote: “Religions are both an identity concern and force in their own right, often attaching themselves to other identities and interests, thereby legitimizing and reinforcing them.”5

At times, conflicts become global issues through active participation or passive reinforcement. Ethnic and cultural disputes are deeply intertwined with broader questions of identity and otherness.6 The Christian concept of being made in the image of God, while profound, does not easily extend to entire nations without risking passive imposition.7 As Volf notes, “We are primarily members of our native community—home, geographic region, and so on—and only secondarily members of the diverse human community or the church, the one people of God that speaks many languages.”8 Identity must be acknowledged, but it cannot become an idol. The book reminds us that while identity is vital, embracing others does not require assimilation or abandonment of one’s uniqueness.9

No one is asking us to abandon our identity and assimilate;10 rather, the forced “conversion” of others and violence against them is entirely unacceptable. We seek unity without erasing difference. The ultimate purpose of our existence—both within our immediate social and cultural realities and in the broader, transcendent dimensions of life—is to cultivate a disposition of self-giving and hospitality. This requires us to open ourselves to others, making space for them within our identities before rendering any judgments—except for the fundamental recognition of their shared humanity.11

One of the hardest challenges is when people within your faith community fail to understand you. Yet, sometimes, those who seem to belong to “other” religions can offer a deeper sense of spiritual connection. As Volf points out, “Still today, many Black Baptists or Methodists feel closer to Black Muslims than to their white fellow Christians.”12 The oppressive codes based on race remain active even today.

The ideas of identity, nationalism, and belonging are learned constructs, not traits passed down through blood or genetics. For example, a Georgian immigrant from the former Soviet Union whose children are born and raised in America might not fully grasp the nuances of Georgian culture. Their narrative and experience would differ significantly from a child born and raised in Georgia, where Georgian traditions, language, and cultural norms are innate. Meanwhile, for the Georgian-American child, American culture becomes the natural backdrop of their identity.

Wherever a person grows up, they inevitably become a fundamental part of that culture. This highlights the crucial role of formal and informal education in shaping one’s understanding of and openness to different cultures. A strong emphasis on education from childhood and reinforced through higher learning fosters a culture of knowledge exchange and societal acceptance. A well-rounded education that encourages critical thinking, intercultural dialogue, and exposure to diverse perspectives is essential for building a more inclusive and informed society. As Mitzi J. Smith aptly states, “Education as a practice of freedom cannot exist without critical dialogue in which students are teachers and teachers are students.”13

I would take this further: we are all students when it comes to understanding another culture. A culture learned solely through books cannot be fully internalized or experienced authentically. It is one thing to see a photograph and another to participate in taking it. Immigrants exemplify this reality, blending at least two cultures within themselves and often serving as bridges between nations. However, this duality can sometimes lead to disconnection as they struggle to define their cultural belonging amidst society’s ambiguous attitudes.

Still, immigrant children, raised in a new country yet connected to their parents' heritage, are living examples of how one can love two cultures unconditionally: where they were born and where they grew up. Their families share traditions, stories, and history, teaching them to embrace a “foreign” culture while reminding them of their roots. Immigrants teach us about acceptance and often become the best mediators and facilitators for understanding between cultures.

This raises a compelling question: how many cultures can a person truly absorb and love? The answer lies in what families and societies nurture from an early age. There is no limit to love. When Christ came to earth, taking on human nature through Mary, He bridged the divine and the human—two vastly different realms. He became part of our culture and history, even eating the food of His time, demonstrating that we can fully engage with any culture if our hearts are open.

While conflicting and challenging questions are inevitable in such processes, dialogue remains the key. Lisa Schirch notes, “Dialogue is a process for discussing tension-filled topics. It is useful for families, small groups, businesses, communities, organizations, and national and international conflicts.”14 By fostering dialogue, we build connections, understanding, and, ultimately a shared humanity.

To embrace or at least consider another culture without making it feel alien, we must take a risk rooted in love and courage. This willingness to risk involves stepping into the unknown, where there are no guarantees of success or safety. Yet, without this step, true engagement with others remains impossible. Risk is not merely a theoretical concept but an experiential reality—one that requires imagination, openness, and the willingness to be transformed in the process.

As John Paul Lederach notes, to risk is to step into the unknown without guaranteeing success or even safety. Risk, by its very nature, is mysterious. It is a mystery lived, for it ventures into lands that are not controlled or charted. ... By its very nature, therefore, peacebuilding requires a journey guided by the risk of imagination.15

This kind of risk is essential for reconciliation and cross-cultural engagement. Without it, we remain bound by fear and unable to build authentic relationships. Taking that first step, however uncertain, is what allows bridges of understanding to form, even if we encounter disappointment. Disappointment is not failure but merely failure to meet our set standards. Instead of imposing rigid, dogmatic expectations in relationships, let us recognize that respect and acceptance manifest differently for each person. Before judging others, let us take the risk of embracing them repeatedly, breaking down our preconceived standards, and fostering genuine understanding.

Embracing the Other

Theological Reflections on Identity and Reconciliation

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