Responses from: Miroslav Volf , Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at Fuller Theological Seminary and the author of Exclusion and Embrace: A Theoloigcal Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nasshville: Abingdon, 1996). Philip A. Cunningham, Professor of Theology at Notre Dame College, in Manchester, NH, and the author of Educating for Shalom (Philadelphia: American Interfaith Institute, 1995). Miroslav Volf's Response In asking me to engage Jon Levenson's book, The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son, and the discussion it has generated on this web site, Chris Leighton has invited a response from a person whose knowledge of Judaism and of Jewish-Christian dialogue is at best only scanty. I am not an expert; I am newcomer. And I am both well aware that things may not be the way they appear to me from a distance and eager to learn from the people who have dedicated their scholarship to redefining the relationship between Christians and Jews. One of the most intriguing and challenging aspects of Levenson's book is his argument about the competitive nature of the relation between Judaism and Christianity. Sibling rivalry is the familiar metaphor he invokes. If this image reflects the reality of the relationship, a twofold challenge ensues for Christian theology. The first concerns the issue of religious supersessionism and egalitarianism. Though Christianity has historically been supersessionist, and dangerously so, the old style supersessionism in which the church simply replaces Israel as the spiritual people of God is theologically inadequate. The thought of the Apostle Paul is more subtle on the issue. He maintained a lasting soteriological significance of the bodily Israel, and yet also contributed to the emergence of a religious alternative to Judaism-or was at least perceived to do so by his Jewish compatriots. This complex relation of the new faith to Judaism is appropriately described as "non-displacive rivalry"-a rivalry predicated on the recognition of the historical priority of Judaism and the abiding status of the Jews as God's beloved people. As I see it, a major challenge for Christian theology is to suggest ways of thinking consistently and responsibly about the peculiar combination of non-supersessionism and non-egalitarianism that is characteristic of the Apostle's Paul relation to Judaism. Sibling rivalries are dangerous, of course, even when the rules define them as "non-displacive." They can even turn muderous. Which brings me to the second challenge. It concerns the negotiation of differences in the context of rivalry. A common assumption that undergirds much interfaith dialogue rests on the tacit belief that agreement in issues of faith is necessary for peace between adherents of different religions; in other words, if you can overcome the competitive relations between "religious claims" you will presumably have made an important step toward peace. Levenson, to the contrary, is cautious about "undue harmonizations" which aim at overcoming a competitive relation between Judaism and Christianity. I take him to be protesting against false universalism that not only levels the richness that inheres in religious traditions, but also betrays the commitments of concrete people to what most profoundly matters to them. If he is right (and if I read him correctly), the challenge in the encounter between religions is not to achieve consensus on religious claims (either by coming to make the same religious claims or by affirming that different religious claims are all equally true), but to acquire the resources necessary to eschew enmity as we engage in valid and fruitful "rivalry." For a Christian this challenge should be met through a double commitment to non-violence (renunciation of all religious justification for deployment of violence) and to self-donation (willingness to give ourselves to the other and provide space for the other in ourselves). Can serious rivals eschew violence and practice self-donation? Yes, if they refuse to let rivalry define the whole relationship, even most of it. The commitment to non-violence and self-donation takes us into the immediate proximity of "sacrifice" which lies at the very center of Levenson's book. The most significant contribution of the book may lie in the compelling way in which it prods both Jewish and Christian theologians to reflect, each for themselves as well as in dialogue with one another, about the ways in which "sacrifice" functions in Judaism and Christianity both as the foundational act and as a model. If they respond to this prodding, they may not only rediscover each other in new and fruitful ways as siblings who are both alike and also very different, but also make a significant contribution to the wider culture which is so woefully impoverished by having lost a good deal of conceptual and moral resources for appreciating, let alone emulating, Abraham's and Christ's most scandalous deeds. Miroslav Volf is Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at Fuller Theological Seminary and the author of Exclusion and Embrace: A Theoloigcal Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nasshville: Abingdon, 1996). Philip A. Cunningham's Response I would like to echo the remarks of the previous contributors to this discussion by extending my appreciation to the ICJS for providing this forum. I was so invigorated by the remarks of Drs. van Buren, Levenson, and Soulen that I rushed to compose some reactions, only to discover that I wanted to keep refining them before they were posted. This shows the depth of the conversation that is now underway. Drs. van Buren, Levenson, and Soulen are all addressing the nature of the relationship between Judaism and Christianity. I wholeheartedly support Dr. van Buren's insight that there is a necessity "for Jews and Christians to talk with each other on the deepest level." I also concur with Dr. Levenson that it is more accurate historically to image the relationship between Judaism and Christianity using the metaphor of two siblings, both of whom are heirs to the spiritual legacy of the ancient Hebrews and of Second Temple Judaism, as opposed to thinking of them as parent and child. While agreeing with Dr. Levenson that the akedah may not have been as central to the Second Temple Jewish religious imagination as Dr. van Buren suggests, it seems reasonable to think of its interpretation along resurrection lines as one more manifestation of the interest in the idea of resurrection, broadly speaking, that was in the air at that time in certain literary circles (e.g., 2 Maccabees 7 and Wisdom of Solomon 3). What I have found intriguing about the exchange thus far is the problematic side of the sibling imagery, which, as Dr. Soulen deftly observes, encompasses a "unique mix of irritants." A chief issue would seem to be that contesting biblical siblings do not reconcile along the egalitarian lines that we might prefer - one always maintains a unique blessed status. Also troublesome for Jewish and Christian relations is the fact that it is the younger brother who prevails, a plot line that has been used in Christian history to illustrate how the younger brother, the Church, has supplanted the elder brother, Israel, according to divine plan. Without going into a lot of exegetical details about the J-source and Hebraic tribal inheritance practices, the repeated pattern in the Book of Genesis of the younger son surpassing the elder son(s) must minimally be asserting that one should not expect God to be restricted to human customs (in this case, primogeniture) when establishing special relationships with human beings. God enters into the life of whomever God chooses. If this biblical pattern warns against limiting Godís freedom to establish relationships or give blessings, we ought to be especially careful if today we draw upon the Genesis sibling motif to help us conceive of the Jewish and Christian relationship. If we limit Godís freedom to relate in unexpected ways to either Jews or Christians by citing the biblical sibling pattern, we may be doing exactly what the bible was trying to discourage! Neither Drs. van Buren, Levenson, nor Soulen have done this, but I raise this point as a cautionary note if the sibling image for our two faith communities is to be pursued theologically and not just historically. I wonder if the biblical image of "the Fatherís favored son" is just one of many powerfully imaginative ways of talking about life in covenant with God. If so, then thinking of ourselves as siblings-in-covenant with God- our-parent might be a rich metaphor for Christian and Jewish dialogists to pursue today. A botanical metaphor of both communities as branches off a common covenantal root would convey something similar. Understanding covenant as more a verb to be lived than a noun to be possessed, ancient Israel lived in a particular type of relationship with God which has certain qualities and led to certain convictions that are described in the Tanakh. To this day Rabbinic Judaism continues that covenantal living, perceiving its requirements and gifts and dynamics with the aid of the texts of the Talmud and other rabbinic writings. In this approach, Christianity entered into the covenantal way-of-being with God because of the life a specific son of the Covenant, whom the Church perceives as the Crucified and Raised One living in its midst. It patterns its grasp of the requirements and gifts and dynamics of covenantal living on the example of Jesus Christ. Both Judaism and Christianity in their sharing-in-life with God experience in that relationship similar dynamics of fidelity and faithlessness, destruction and restoration, gift and responsibility. Both then, are truly siblings, not only because of their historical commonalties in Second Temple Judaism, but also because they both today dwell covenantally with God, even if they articulate the origins and meaning of their life with God differently. As Dr. Soulen notes, Christianity cannot tell its story without reference to Jews. This is because it was through one particular Jew that the Church's life with the covenanting God of Israel came about. On the other hand, I wonder if it is really true, or must always be true, that Judaism does not need to refer to Christianity to tell its story. The story of the Christian oppression of Jews until very recently has affected both communities, and both have defined some of their religious ideas in response to the other's claims. Can the whole story of the Jewish religious experience really be told without reference to this admittedly negative Christian influence? More positively, there is also the question of Judaism's obligation to be a light to the nations, a duty Christians have as well. As Dr. Michael Kogan and others have observed (see the articles pages at the ICJS website), it is possible for Jews to think of Christians as advancing their own Jewish mission to make the God of Israel known among the nations. If Christians succeed to any significant extent in reforming their supersessionist self-understandings and in becoming true partners with Jews in preparing for the Age to Come, then Judaism would logically need to refer to its Christian allies as helping Jews fulfill their mandate to be lights to the nations. This is, of course, only a future possibility and the burdens of a terrible past relationship are not facilely to be overcome on either side. In any case, understanding our relationship as siblings who resonate in a covenantal sharing-in-life with God would also lead to an affirmative answer to the initial discussion question, "Can Jews and Christians share the same Bible stories without abandoning the core truth claims of their respective religions?" Since God seems to have chosen to relate to both of us covenantally, probably because relationality is an essential divine trait, I believe that both of us can recognize and appreciate the other's ways of expressing their life with God, even if our experiences or perceptions of God are not identical. We also can benefit from learning about one another's differing uses of the same biblical texts because our varied interpretations can serve to illuminate further the divine way-of-being in which we are both immersed. We would come to know God better by seeing the divine reflection in our covenantal kinfolk. Obviously, much more could be said about any of these notions, but I do hope they serve to further this cyber-conversation. My thanks, again to the ICJS and to Drs. van Buren, Levenson, and Soulen for such a stimulating exchange. Philip A. Cunningham is Professor of Theology at Notre Dame College, in Manchester, NH, and the author of Educating for Shalom (Philadelphia: American Interfaith Institute, 1995).

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