I am trained primarily as a philosopher, not (primarily) as a theologian or even a biblical scholar. Despite my limitations, I’d like to offer some brief, informal reflections on Christ and Christ’s Atonement.
I used to wonder about the scope of the atonement. Christ died, but for whom? I now wonder about the mechanism of the atonement. How does the atonement save? This is an extraordinarily complex question, and I do not expect to resolve it, at least not in a way I find completely satisfactory. But I have hope that some progress can and has been made.
I confess that I am unsure how to interpret various passages allegedly related to how the atonement works to save. I believe that this skepticism justifies me in constructing a largely philosophical atonement. (After all, if the biblical evidence is currently mysterious to me, but non-biblical evidence is not, why should I not use that latter evidence to construct a theory of the atonement? I find this acceptable.)
But a strictly philosophical atonement – that is, a theory of the atonement constructed purely on non-biblical grounds – seems unfitting for an Easter homily. I would like to say much more about what I think the biblical authors envision for the atonement, but the most I can claim for these reflections is that they make a great deal of sense to me; that is, when I read these passages, I take them to mean such-and-such. But I am unprepared to offer exegetical defenses of my readings. I am not equipped to do that, and (as I just confessed) I am already quite skeptical that I can make plausible heads or tails of the biblical data.
This places me in the somewhat unfortunate situation of saying, essentially, ‘Well, I do not claim that this can be defended exegetically in extreme detail, only that things seem to me as being such-and-such upon initial reflection.’ I make no claim, then, that my reflections on the biblical data are such that you should regard them as plausible or binding; I haven’t the evidence to do that. Instead, I make the (much) more modest claim that this is how the biblical data often looks to me, and I welcome you to adopt whatever seems right to you about my reading. If nothing about my reading seems right to you – indeed, if it seems quite wrong to you – recall my confession of skepticism, and recall in particular that I have not said that you should accept what I say about the biblical reading.
When contemplating the atonement, we would do well to remember several things: (1) the Jewish sacrificial rituals and their parallelisms to the death of Christ; (2) the model or models of divine forgiveness in the scriptures, as well as the divine character and nature; (3) the nature of sin and its effects; and (4) how a successful redemption is portrayed in the scriptures. This is far from exhaustive, but it represents what I take to be a plausible set of theological guidelines for atonement theorizing.
We see in the Jewish sacrificial ritual a rite of moral disassociation. I have sinned, but I want to be made clean. I therefore associate with an animal of some kind (though not always: flour and fruits were sometimes used) in such a way that I pass onto it the consequences of my sin (spiritual and perhaps even physical death), and God accepts this and allows me to avoid those consequences for the present.
Did Christ do this for us? I suspect in some form he did, and that it looks something like this: By freely becoming incarnate and living among us and eventually being tortured and murdered, Christ truly felt the consequences of life apart from perfect, Trinitarian harmony. (Life apart in this sense at least: being among those who were in a state of wicked rebellion.) By associating with the God-man through faith and obedience, we are made righteous and justified in the sight of God. But 'being in' Christ does much more for us than prior sacrificial rites did. Not only do we avoid the consequences of life apart from God, but in fact we are raised to a new life, made new creatures, and we participate fully in the divine life.
Theologians sometimes talk of the ‘transfer of righteousness,’ or the ‘imputation of Christ’s righteousness.’ Understood as an instantaneous sort of thing, this makes little sense. (Do I already possess Christ’s righteousness? If so, then why do I sin as I do? Is it merely a declaration of my present righteousness? Whence my sin? Whence the need to live rightly? Whence God’s more substantive standard of righteousness, namely, actually being righteous?) But understood as a Spirit-guided, grace-infused transformation of our character, this transfer makes a great deal more sense. It is the working of divine grace in our hearts, without which there is nothing good whatsoever.
The Gospel of Luke (15:11-31) tells the story of the Prodigal Son, who leaves home and squanders his inheritance. He returns home and admits (rightly!) that he does not deserve to be regarded any longer as his father’s son. But his father – and this is crucial as a model of divine forgiveness, as I suspect was intended by Jesus, because a number of atonement theories seem to betray the lesson here – accepted him with open arms. There was no punishment; there was no animal sacrificed for sin (only for celebration: if it were a sin offering, it wouldn’t have been consumed). There was only forgiveness and love, and an overlooking of past offenses in light of sincere repentance. The older son complains that he and his brother have received unequal treatment. The older son has always obeyed and received not even a goat; but the younger son has disobeyed terribly and has received the fattened calf!
We do well to see the point: repentance equals things out; it restores, and equal treatment is again morally appropriate. I think this justifies at least a modest skeptical attitude toward the complaint that punishment is necessary for complete restoration. The parable makes no mention of it, and even seems to oppose it, both by marked omission (quite an omission in a Jewish culture obsessed with sacrifice) and a denial of the elder brother’s complaint of unfair treatment. (Shouldn’t he receive more? Or shouldn’t his disobedient brother receive some punishment? Let’s treat all like they deserve!)
What is sin? Speaking broadly, it is a disruption to the prescribed divine-creature relationship. The law is meant to guide us to God, to show us what God requires of us. Missing the mark is missing perfect communion with God. (It is also failing to commune properly with others, but we may safely ignore this for now.) Sin means separation; it is why we are on one side of the Temple veil, and God on the other. Correcting this is what salvation is about, and likewise for the means to salvation. (Is it any puzzle that we call it the ‘at-one-ment’?) Salvation is, for us, about obedience, and obedience (in large part) so that we unite with God once more, being partakers in the divine nature.
Whatever we say of the atonement must explain this. It is at best an incomplete atonement that fails to explain how we really are restored in a substantively transformative sense. The sum of our atonement theory must go beyond the law: it is not enough that we are declared righteous; we must be made righteous. For without being made righteous, we are not fully reconciled; we are still evil, still unclean, still missing that wonderful and perfect communion with God.
What did Christ do for us? He showed us the way to God, and did so in a way that did not downplay our own sufferings. (I say our suffering would be objectionably downplayed if only Christ’s sufferings were sufficient to recompense God.) He lived his life in perfect obedience, and by associating with him through faith and obedience we are brought into the Kingdom. Was this something we could do on our own? In one sense the answer is ‘yes,’ but in another sense (a highly important sense) the answer is ‘no.’ It is true, I think, that we could restore ourselves to God in such a way that fits us for eternal communion with Them, but it is false that we could do this without divine grace. Christ did not need to suffer and die to repay God, but instead suffered and died to live rightly throughout tribulation, loving even his enemies to the end – even to an end on the cross.
It is beautiful that Christ’s life inspires us, and that God’s grace (through Christ’s example, among other things) fits many of us for that Love which formed us, which let us go our own way, and which plucked us from sin and darkness into light. We are saved by God, for God, and in God. For this reason, it is right to celebrate Good Friday and the atonement, but wrong to celebrate the injustices done to innocent Christ. Christ’s life was love, and so was his enemy-forgiving death (‘Father, forgive them’).
Christopher Hitchens, before his death, scolded then-Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams for his plea to love our enemies. Hitchens informed Williams that Williams is welcome to love his enemies, but that he (Hitchens) would not. It’s too dangerous. (Perhaps this is why the way is narrow.) Let us be grateful for Jesus, whose love found its way into the heart of even the Roman executioner at the cross.
May we forgive others as Christ forgave us, loving, forgiving, reconciling. Even to the end. Even to a cross.
"The purpose and cause of the incarnation was that He might illuminate the world by His wisdom and excite it to the love of Himself"
--Peter Abelard
7 comments:
(1)
Hey Blake.
Your recent comment on FB where you reminded me that you were being purposefully informal and that you “didn't intend on saying anything especially detailed, or using much analytical precision” is noted, and I don’t think that my comments below would be changed with that in mind. If there is a place where I make an objection where I think you probably have more to offer than your quick comment, I try to assume that in my response.
An initial and over-arching thought regarding your post:
You setup your premise for creating a philosophy (or a philosophical argument) of atonement from the standpoint that since the biblical text is unclear to you (as it relates to substitutionary atonement), it is justifiable for you to construct a largely philosophical doctrine of the atonement. Even though you do attempt to ground this philosophical construction in Scripture, my question is not on the coherence of the philosophy that you constructed in your piece, but the validity or general worth of it.
Here’s my train of thought – Suppose I found that the verses that allegedly testify to the exclusivity of Jesus (or explicit faith in Him, or to the existence of a personal God, etc) to be unclear or I was unsure how to interpret them and so I decided to create a primarily philosophical understanding of salvation. If my philosophy and my argument doesn’t address or respond to the key texts that would be cited in a biblical response/objection to my philosophy, what use would my philosophy be for the Christian concerned about having Biblical theology (which I would say is definitional of Christians)?
The question is, then, this: are you willing to have your philosophical construction changed based upon properly exegeted scripture?
The sacrificial system, implications, etc.:
Your description and characterization of the sacrificial system is both more knowledgeable than many and it is still not seeing more than a cardboard representation of what it really was.
What I mean is this: it is very commendable and good to point out the glorious provision made by God so that all classes of people could offer acceptable sacrifices to him (the different animals prescribed as well as the ability to use flour for those who were destitute). Many people miss this amazing and praise-worthy provision that God made for Israel, and you didn’t. Very much of a kudos to you for referring to that even in an off-handed way.
And whether or not you are the first to refer to the sacrificial system as being “a rite of moral disassociation”, I think that this designation and the description that you give following it are a less than full picture of both what the original picture was as well as what the fulfillment in Christ is.
Quite simply, the animal that is substituted in the place of the bears the consequences of that person’s sinful actions in his stead, and therefore the worshipper is spared – that is very very true. But that is not where the old system ended. There was repentance on the part of the worshipper. Many of the sacrifices were basically ready on an “as needed” basis, and so they would take place only when the worshipper brings it up, and in repentance then confesses guilt before God. Furthermore, while the immediate benefit was having the sin or guilt dealt with, and a more lasting benefit was that you were able to participate and receive the blessings of life in the covenant community. Still an imperfect picture of what Christ has fully done and accomplished for us for many reasons, but these aspects are also part of the OT sacrificial system.
<2)
Justification & Imputation:
Your section dealing with these two issues was at best unclear and at worst…well, worse. Here’s an example, “By associating with the God-man through faith and obedience, we are made righteous and justified in the sight of God.”
At best this statement is unclear. What I mean is this – I can’t think of a way that this phrase echo’s the Holy Spirit’s proclamations regarding salvation in specific scriptures like Eph 2:8-10, Rom 4:4-5; or Gal 1. So if you would say that you believe in sola fide, this is a most confusing and ultimately contradictory way to articulate how we are justified.
If, by this statement and what seems to flow from it, you mean that by faith and obedience we are made righteous – then you are distancing yourself from the gospel of grace and substituting it for a semi-pelagian system of works righteousness akin to Roman Catholicism. This would receive the “well, worse” response from me.
Compounding the issue is the question of just what you mean by justification. Based on your objection to imputation that follows, you must not be using it in a forensic sense, but what you do mean remains unclear.
As far as your hat-tip to imputed righteousness itself followed by your parenthetical questioned objections – I will assume that you have read articulate defenders of imputed righteousness for a vigorous defense of this doctrine and you (for reasons you don’t explain) find the articulations and answers less than satisfying. And again, your reference to “Spirit-guided, grace-infused transformation of our character” is the language and picture of Roman soteriology than any kind of reformation formed soteriology. And this comment on merely a Spirit-guided and grace-infused transformation adds solid contextual reasoning that what you really meant by the phrase “through faith and obedience” is a semi-pelagian / pelagian system where my actions contribute fully or partially to ones being made righteous before God.
(3)
The Prodigal Son as a crucial model of divine forgiveness:
First of all, what makes this passage, this parable, less confusing or clearer than the direct didactic teachings that are explained with detail in the Scriptures? I ask because of the initial statements you made about how clouded some texts are for you to understand in relation to this issue.
The point of the story of the prodigal son is that “repentance equals things out”? I suppose if you take the parable out of any context within the teaching of Jesus or the Scriptures as a whole, perhaps that would be a reasonable conclusion. But in doing that you wouldn’t have the context of who Jesus is or what He’s already said or what He went on to say or do later.
If we take your interpretive method that where if something is either emphasized, not emphasized, or not present at all that this then makes a sweeping statement about the doctrine of salvation as a whole – what other conclusions ought we to draw from this parable? For instance, how can we say that repentance equals things out when the parable of the lost sheep (told just before the prodigal son) indicates that there are 99 who don’t need to repent and don’t need it to equal things out because they’re already righteous. Doesn’t this seem to contradict an idea that there are no people who are righteous and that everyone needs repentance? Is Jesus’ point that only 1% of people need to repent before God is pleased with them? Or is it 10% as the parable of the lost coin may imply?
But if we just stay in this one parable only and don’t use the context of Luke 15, then who are the characters representing? Is the father in the story Jesus or is he the Father? If he’s the Father, where’s Jesus’ character and why doesn’t the prodigal have to ‘go through’ him? If he’s Jesus, does this mean that Jesus has two kinds of children – some that repent and others that don’t? Does it teach that both sons are believers and that the good son is one who’s always been faithful and the prodigal is the backslidden one who comes to his senses later in life, or is it something else? Why no mention of the cross, or eluding to the fact of His upcoming death? Does not that omission contradict any theory of atonement or salvation that depends up on a Crucified Christ? Furthermore, why no emphasis on a victorious risen father (or an absent Christ character if you would prefer to see the father as God the Father) because, after all, without the resurrection aren’t we all in trouble and most to be pitied? Or does the omission of these things go against an understanding of atonement where the cross or the resurrection themselves are key? Is it teaching that everyone was at one time with the father (not necessarily in a Mormon sense) and had a good relationship with him that we are trying to get back to?
My point primary point in this section has not been to ridicule the way you are interpreting the parable, and I don’t believe you would draw all of these conclusions from these parables. I’m trying to show that a broader application of your interpretive method has massive implications and ramifications on the gospel, and that making grand and sweeping conclusions that seem to contradict other Scriptural teachings based on imagery or by what is left out, included, or emphasized in this parable is not how you can make sense of the Bible.
The main issue that I want to raise is this - why would this parable cause justifiable skepticism related to penal substitution and its implications but not to the other issues that are not mentioned when they had been part of Jesus’ teaching before?
Repentance over sin and God’s willingness to receive repentant sinners is one thing being emphasized – I would very much agree with that this is brought out in the parable - but to say that because no blood sacrifice is mentioned then this is not important to understanding the full picture of salvation is tragically wrong.
(4)
Also, as it relates to the older brother – Who in the audience would have the older son been identified with? The Pharisees. Notice how he never enters the party (the father has to come out to him) and how his desire is to be with his friends and not to celebrate with his father. I would not go so far as to say that this is the place to go to show that the Pharisees were not truly believing in the Lord or that they would inherit eternal punishment for their sin, rebellion, and legalistic system for pleasing God, but the rest of the NT teaches these things and the parabolic imagery here allows for that.
I guess that’s a good place to stop.
Eric:
Thank you for your thoughtful reply! My comments are below.
On My Approach
I appreciate the challenges you presented here and I hope that I can offer some clarifications that will shed a little more light about my approach.
You ask, “If my philosophy and my argument doesn’t address or respond to the key texts that would be cited in a biblical response/objection to my philosophy, what use would my philosophy be for the Christian concerned about having Biblical theology?” To be clear, my point is not that we should ignore or flippantly address relevant biblical texts; rather, I am suggesting that IF the biblical text is unclear to you, then you should use whatever other evidence you have to shape your view on a given matter.
What value does this have for the person interested in having a “biblical theology”? Well, if there is no biblical evidence for a theological issue, or perhaps there is biblical evidence but we just can’t tell what it is, what’s valuable about constructing a plausible philosophical theory on the theological issues is that those theories (if plausible) bring us closer to the truth. Or don’t you agree?
The sacrificial system, implications, etc.
You mention the Jewish sacrificial cult and you concern yourself with a complete picture of it, as well as its parallels with Christ’s passion. You are right to emphasize repentance as a necessary condition for divine-human reconciliation. Unlike you, I see repentance (along with non-violent sacrificial ‘penances’) as a sufficient condition for divine-human reconciliation, such that anyone who truly (and freely) repents is forgiven by God. I take this to be the model of forgiveness emphasized throughout the scriptures, but we’ll get to that a bit more when I respond to your comments on the Prodigal Son.
Justification & Imputation
You raise several worries in this section, and I confess that I’m not quite sure what all of them are, but I’ll do my best to make an adequate response.
Taking pains to be charitable, you assume that I have read defenders of imputed righteousness. I appreciate that, and it is true. It’s also true, as you’ve suspected, that imputed righteousness doesn’t make much sense to me. This isn’t because I reject the possibility of imputed righteousness, understood in a strictly forensic (or declarative) sense, because I don’t. It’s more a matter of skepticism for me. I don’t see that it’s impossible or otherwise objectionable; but I also don’t see that it’s possible or otherwise unobjectionable. Less formally put, it doesn’t seem quite right, but it doesn’t seem wrong either; it’s unclear.
You criticize me on the grounds that my statement about how “associating with the God-man through faith and obedience” makes us “righteous and justified in the sight of God.” Presumably what is unclear is the nature of this association. Like you, I am inclined to regard faith – a decisive turning to God and repenting of past (presumably moral) discretion – is a sufficient association to reconcile persons to God. The nature of that association is justificatory in nature, and persons are justified because they turn in faith to God.
How does this differ from a forensic conception of a transfer of righteousness? Well, in this case, a forensic element is involved but the whole process is not strictly a forensic one. Indeed, it is forensic only insofar as it is morally transformative. The Holy Spirit fills the believer with grace and, on the basis of that grace, God justifies us. And it is grace provided us by Christ, although how Christ provides it is something I’m unsure of.
The Prodigal Son as a crucial model of divine forgiveness
You ask what makes the parable “less confusing or clearer than the direct didactic teachings” elsewhere in the scriptures. Here you seem to have lost sight of my homily. I don’t contend that the parable is less confusing or clearer than other passages. A deeper analysis of the passage, or a deeper analysis of the passage in light of other biblical teachings, would surely make matters much more complex, perhaps just as complex (or even more complex) than other passages. But I am not offering an exegetical study, only how the passage strikes me in a non-scholarly way. In other words, I say nothing about whether the passage is (in light of exegetical work) clear in its message; I only claim that, as a casual reader, I come away from that parable with a certain impression of divine forgiveness.
A number of your other comments seem to interpret me as advocating a particular hermeneutic. I’m not. I’m merely reporting how the parable strikes me as a casual reader. I have sympathy for the criticism that this sort of hermeneutic would be disastrous if applied broadly, but that isn’t my recommendation.
A final comment about the parable of the Prodigal Son. Parables, as you know, are typically designed for some central point and it is often true that the peripheral details are rarely instructive. (Lazarus and the Dives: Do we really get to chat with angels while we’re in hell? I hardly think that’s the point.) Whomever the individuals in the parable represent, I’m not sure that it makes much of a difference to the model of forgiveness that Jesus seems to be advocating. Whether the father is the Father or the father is Jesus or the father is me, Jesus is (it seems) offering what he takes to be a good model of forgiveness.
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