The first two theologians treated in this chapter – Robert Jenson and Eberhard Jüngel – were conditioned by both a deep-lying attraction to revisionary metaphysics and by eschatology in their reception of Barth’s theology. This helped to uncover aspects of Barth’s dogmatics that had previously gone unnoticed. Ultimately, however, the temptation for both Jenson and Jüngel was to treat the immanent Trinity as something that is “complete” only in the eschaton. For divine kenosis, this meant that it was not an ontological precondition to incarnation but something that takes place in Jesus’ way to the cross. The third theologian treated in this chapter is Piet Schoonenberg. He shares a starting point with Jenson and Jüngel in the narrated history of Jesus of Nazareth attested in the New Testament, yet the “principles” he employs in his constructive Christology could just as easily be taken in a direction in which the second person of the Trinity is not collapsed into a human being. This chapter’s historical analysis finally raises the questions: why resist a collapse of the eternal Son into Jesus of Nazareth? Why engage in any sort of return to the received Christological dogma, however modified we might make it to be?

What does it mean to practice public international law? This is a frequent topic of conversation for many of us who work with law students inspired to study the law and pursue legal vocations in the belief that peace, justice, and human rights may be best advanced through the international legal framework. But, as our students often discover, that framework can be deeply frustrating. From its heavily bureaucratic structure anchored in the United Nations (UN) system, to the unresolved tension between individuals and states as actors in and beneficiaries of international law, public international law can often seem as much an obstacle as a means to our virtue.

This chapter examines the ethic of praxis in public international law by examining an often-overlooked area of international legal practice: refugee and asylum law. An ethic of praxis, as I discuss it in this chapter, is an ethic with attention to creatureliness, which is to say finitude.

The central symbolic event of the Christian religion appears everywhere in Hughes’s poetry and prose, explicitly and implicitly, as a fundamental metaphysical statement about the human condition. This chapter begins with a discussion of “Hawk in the Rain,” the opening and title poem of Hughes’s first collection, as an update of Hopkin’s explicitly Christological poem “The Windhover,” which leads to a consideration of how the crucifixion has been made less horrific over the years through the use of comforting cultural “roses.” Making much use of the theologian Paul Tillich, this chapter introduces the concept of teleological freedom, of which the crucifixion is a powerful representation, not least in Hughes’s poetry. Key crufixional Crow poems, especially “Crow Blacker Than Ever,” are discussed, and the prevailing critical reading overturned. The chapter concludes with a theological and literary look at Jesus’ death-cry, an act which echoes repeatedly in Hughes’s work.