The Opposite of Exclusion is ...?

One of the themes that arose in the BUGB/BMS Assembly in Blackpool was that of exclusion. Knowingly and, more often I hope, unknowingly church practice ends up excluding people from understanding what is happening and participating in it.

For example, most churches place great significance on the practice of "the preaching of the word." (Deliberate use of small 'w' to indicate preaching from the Bible, although in this instance a capital 'W' may be correct since if we are not preaching Christ, the incarnate Word, what are we doing?) But this focus on verbal communication excludes those who are either deaf or have hearing difficulties.

As another example, it has become commonplace to project the words of the songs being sung in worship onto a screen. But how does this include those who are unable to read, let alone those who suffer from blindness? And what about our use of visual imagery - is this inclusive or exclusive? I could go on - but I won't.

Much of the debate in the Monday morning Assembly session was about how we might become more inclusive in our churches, but I'm not so sure that inclusivity is the whole answer. Why not? Well, let's think about it for a moment.

If I make an alteration to my practice so as to include you in what I am doing, then the power in that relationship remains entirely with me. It is my choice to include you, my alteration of my practice. In other words, inclusion is something I do to you - and you have little or no say in the matter. Not only that, but too often inclusion is the first step that I take to make you like me.

So is there an alternative antonym to exclusion which might serve us better in our conversation? I believe that there is - and I am not alone. Following Miroslav Volf, let me suggest that the opposite of exclusion is embrace.


An embrace is a mutual act. I cannot unilaterally embrace you - that is assault. We must choose to embrace one another. Furthermore, by offering an invitation to embrace, by opening my arms to you, I make myself vulnerable to you. You might choose to return my embrace, but you might choose to do many other things. You might choose to reject my invitation. You might even choose to take advantage of my vulnerability and harm me.

An embrace does not seek to alter either your identity or mine so as to make them more like each other. It is an action entered into by two individuals, each with their own identity, and when the embrace is complete, both individuals remain distinct in their identity. Both identities may be altered, but their distinctiveness remains. Indeed, an embrace can maintain diversity in a way that inclusion finds difficult, if not impossible.

Finally, Christianity tells the story of the God who came to this world not to include it in God but to embrace it. Whatever else the atonement does, it does not make us into God and it does not make God into us. Christ came to express God's love for the Creation - to embrace all that God has made in all its diversity and otherness. When he opened his arms, inviting us to return his embrace, we nailed them to a cross.

Volf has much more to say about this than I can include in a blog post, and I can only suggest that we read his book - again if necessary - and reflect on what he proposes. Let's not settle for inclusion, which risks squashing our individuality and removing difference. Let's instead, embrace one another, celebrating and respecting our diversity - a diversity that is essential if we together are to reflect the image of God in this world.