Nonviolent Atonement: A Proposition Worthy of a Response

For the third week of my independent study I read:

• "The Nonviolent Atonement: Human Violence, Discipleship and God," by J. Denny Weaver.
• "The Cross: God's Peace Work - Towards A Restorative Peacemaking Understanding of the Atonement," by Wayne Northey.
• "Good News For Postmodern Man: Christus Victor in the Lucan Kerygma," by Nathan Rieger

As I am a student at Eastern Mennonite University, J. Denny Weaver's chapter from Stricken by God (which is really a condensed version of the argument proposed in his The Nonviolent Atonement) seems most pertinent to address. In the brief time I have spent in a Mennonite community, Weaver's work has been somewhat ubiquitous. That said, mentions of the retired Bluffton College professor have run the gamut of opinions, from respect to rejection. It seems likely that I will read his entire book in the not-too-distant future, but for now an analysis of this essay's argument will have to suffice.

Weaver begins by making the uncontroversial claim, "nonviolence is intrinsic to the story of Jesus," going so far as to assert that, though the gospel such note be equated or reduced to a rejection of violence it, "any defining statement about Jesus or the gospel that does not have a rejection pf violence as a constitutive element is an incomplete statement about Jesus or the gospel" (Stricken 316). I agree with this claim, but one should not miss its signifiance in the discussion of atonement theology. Weaver's assertion carries with it the implication that Christians who do not preach the gospel of peace are preaching either a truncated or false gospel. I would want to graciously extend an olive branch to Christians outside of the peace church tradition in the form of the reminder that they have been part of the majority opinion throughout the history of the church. I would want to especially emphasize the fact that to the extent they have believe in a gospel of "constant love for one another," love is able to cover, "a multitude of sins" (1 Peter 4:8 NRSV).


Weaver wants to argue for an atonement theology that "undergirds discipleship to Jesus," and provides a theology that, "shapes Christian living" (Stricken 317). Starting from John Howard Yoder's case for using Jesus' life as the norm for Christian ethics, Weaver aruges that "ethics and theology comprise two version or two forms of the same commitment" (Stricken 319). So far, so good.

Weaver then sets out to construct his proposal for atonement theology which he has titled "narrative Christus Victor" (Stricken 321). Jesus launches his mission based upon Isaiah 61:

The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; (Isaiah 61:1-2)

Jesus' ministry is about making "present the reign of God in human history" (Stricken 321) and to be Christian "means to join and follow Jesus in his mission of witnessing to the peaceable reign of God" (Stricken 322).  Weaver does want to admits that part of the narrative of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection is an atonement motif, but he claims "there is no indication of any kind that the death of Jesus in this story satisfies anything" (Stricken 323).  Weaver sees Jesus' death at the hands of the powers as highlighting the how different the methods of the powers are from the way of God.  Not identifying any sort of satisfaction atonement in the narratives of Jesus, Weaver then proposes what the atonement image he calls "narrative Christus Victor" will look like.  Differing greatly from Gustav Aulen's conception of Christus Victor, Weaver notes that in his envisaging, "the first level of struggle between the reign of God and rule of evil occurs not in the cosmos but on earth, where the life and teaching of Jesus as a whole engage the struggle" (Stricken 324).

Weaver then moves to an examination of narrative Christus Victor found in Revelation.  Weaver's reading of Revelation emphasizes the fact that the resurrection is the victory of Christ over the powers.  Such a victory should be understood as "a nonviolent victory, that is, a victory without divine violence" (Stricken 330).  Weaver maintains that God's nonviolence is not just a fact extracted from reading the narrative, but is intrinsic to understand the reign of God.  Jesus' crucifixion highlights the fact that the worst the powers of evil can do is to kill, but through the resurrection God reverses this denial of existence.  Unlike in satisfaction and penal substitutionary theories of atonement, in narrative Christus Victor, God's triumphant reign does not depend "on God's capacity to exercise either retributive violence or the greatest violence, but on the power of the reign of God to overcome in spite of and in the face of the violence of evil" (Stricken 331).  Weaver then asserts that Revelation ends with the vision of the New Jerusalem, not as a future reality, but as representative of "the church as it continues the mission of Jesus to witness to the presence of the reign of God in the world" (Stricken 332).  It would seem that Weaver would want to admit that the life of the church often does not feel like the New Jerusalem, but he insists that such an image "affirms symbolically that regardless of the apparent power of evil abroad in the world, those who live in the resurrection of Jesus know that evil has been overcome and that its power is already limited" (Stricken 334).

As I was reading through this chapter, at about this point I was wondering how Weaver understands personal deficiency or complicity with sin. Luckily, he turns to a conception of what it means to be a Christian.  Weaver reconfigures a more common understanding of confession, insisting that it is the realization and acknowledgement of "our participation in the forces of evil that killed Jesus, including their present manifestations in such powers as militarism, nationalism, racism, sexism, heterosexism and poverty that still bind and oppress" (Stricken 336).  For Weaver, grace is, "the invitation to participate in spite of our guilt for opposing the reign of God and collusion with the powers that killed Jesus" (Stricken 336).  I have moved quickly through Weaver's essay, but this represents the gist of the argument I wish to deal with.

When reading through Weaver's chapter my initial inclination was assent.  After all, how can one draw upon both John Howard Yoder and Walter Wink and veer too far away from brilliance?  However, Weaver's overarching presentation of narrative Christus Victor left me wanting.  First, Weaver's reading of the gospels seems quotidian for anyone attempting to overcome penal substitutionary understandings of the atonement.  The point that, "there is no indication of any kind that the death of Jesus in this story satisfies anything," (Stricken 323) could--and probably would--be made by any historical Jesus scholar. Such a reading makes one wonder why Weaver would call this assertion "atonement" in the first place?    I agree with the fact that Jesus witnesses to God's peaceable reign on earth and that his death is "produced by the forces that opposed" him.  I even enjoy his reading nonviolent reading of Revelation, which makes clear that the "victory through the resurrection is a non-violent victory, that is, a victory without divine violence" (Stricken 330).  The problem with Weaver's argument really occurs when he turns from exegesis to praxis.

Consider his soteriology:

To acknowledge our human sinfulness means to confess our participation in the forces of evil that killed Jesus, including their present manifestations in such powers as militarism, nationalism, racism, sexism, heterosexism and poverty that still bind and oppress...That invitation to participate [in God's reign] in spite of our guilt for opposing the reign of God and collusion with the powers that killed Jesus is grace. (Stricken 336)

This is dangerously close to guilt-tripping people into the kingdom and undermines his assertion that Jesus death does not satisfy any sort of divine necessity.  Weaver clearly does not believe Jesus' death satisfies divine wrath, but it still seems possible that is satisfies the divine narrative.  Even though he specifically denounces Abelard's moral influence theory, Weaver's description of Abelard is not too distinct from his own conception.  He describes the moral influence theory saying,

In order to show these sinners--us--that God is really loving and accepting, God the Father performs an act of great, infinite love, giving us his most precious possession, his Son, to die for us.  When sinners perceive that love, according to this image, they will want to cease rebelling and return to the loving embrace of the Father. (Stricken 339)

If one substitutes the idea that God gives his son over to death with a Jesus who nonviolently opposes evil even unto his own death, then Weaver and Abelard are kindred theological spirits.

Another problem with Weaver's narrative Christus Victor is its narrowness (and I will admit this may be due to my reading a more condensed version of his argument).  In this chapter, Weaver never (at least by my reading) addresses the Old Testament or attempts to place Jesus into the greater story of God's people.  Further, except for a brief mention of 1 Corinthians 15 and a paragraph on Romans 3:24-26, Weaver completely avoids the letters of Paul.  One is certainly permitted to do this, but not if one wants to discuss atonement.  It simply will not do to cite two scholars who do not see satisfaction atonement in Paul's letters when many Christians think Paul's writings explicitly undermine what you are arguing!

In summary, I would have to assert that Weaver is not a bad resource, but rather he brings up more questions than he offers answers.  That's okay though, because in my study of theologies of the cross and atonement, I am only on week 3.

Cross theologies (week 2)...or, Too Much To Write About

This week I continued slogging through Stricken By God: Nonviolent Identification and the Victory of Christ.  My readings this week were:

• "The Reasons For Jesus' Crucifixion" by N.T. Wright
• "God's Self-Substitution and Sacrificial Inversion" by James Alison
• "God Is Not To Blame: The Servant's Atoning Suffering According to the LXX of Isaiah 53" by E. Robert Ekblad
• "The Forgiveness of Sins: Hosea 11:1-9; Matthew 18:23-25" by Rowan Williams with comments by Mark D. Baker
• "The Repetition of Reconciliation: Satisfying Justice, Mercy and Forgiveness" by Sharon Baker

My reflections here will be centered on N.T. Wright's chapter, but I hope to bring some themes from the other essays into consideration as well.  

N.T. Wright's chapter from Stricken By God is in fact just a chapter from his pivotal work, Jesus and the Victory of God.  Wright's previous contributions to my own theological perspective cannot be downplayed.  His books, Surprised by Hope, After You Believe, and What St. Paul Really Said have been hugely impactful on not only my understanding of the Bible, but my conception of what Christianity is all about.  That said, I've not read Jesus and the Victory of God, so this chapter was mostly new material.  

The first major point (which really shouldn't even have to be said) Wright makes is that "it is worse than futile to try to separate theology from politics" (Stricken 79).  While my personal interests center on systematic theology, biblical studies have continued to center my attention on the socio-religio-political contexts of the Bible.  I would offer that common conceptions of Christian atonement theology are unhelpful particularly in their de-historicized nature. The concern to communicate a universally intelligible gospel is not wrongheaded, but it's priority in theology has done violence to the narrative of scripture.  Wright's chapter does a nice job putting the story of Jesus crucifixion back into a historical context.  He does this by examining the three major players in the narrative: the Jews, the Romans, and Jesus himself.  

Wright's analysis of the Roman and Jewish charges against Jesus are helpful, but for my purposes, his analysis of Jesus' intentions are critical.  Wright begins with the question that must be asked, "Did Jesus intend to die in something like the manner he did, and if so why?" (Stricken 91).  Some would answer with a resounding, "No!" Those answering negatively would want to either paint Jesus' death as a tragedy that cut short the life of a great man, or at least insist that Jesus didn't have to die (i.e. it was not a requirement of his divine vocation).  Wright wants to argue that Jesus' "own decisions...were themselves necessary, though insufficient, causes of his own death" (Stricken 90).

Wright's case stems from his interpretation of the Last Supper as a Passover meal.  In the upper room, Jesus "fused this great story [Passover] together with another one: the story of Jesus' own life, and of his coming death" (Stricken 92).  The Passover meal was the Jewish remembrance of God's delivery of the Hebrews from tyranny, and also looked forward to their eventual return from exile.  If Wright is correct in his interpretation of the "forgiveness of sins" as YHWH's deliverance and vindication of his exiled people, then the overarching story of the Bible would look something like this:

1. YHWH calls Abraham to become a people through whom YHWH will bless all the families of the earth; that is, set to right what was broken at the fall (Genesis 12:3).
2. Israel resists God's intentions and becomes more like the pagan nations around them.  This leads to Israel's exile.
3. Jesus comes on the scene as YHWH's messiah, acting as the true Israel to accomplish God's purposes.

The Last Supper as a Passover celebration points to the fact that, "the new exodus, and all that it meant, was happening in and through Jesus himself" (Stricken 95). 

Skipping ahead in the chapter, Wright (as usual) insists that Jesus' actions cannot be interpreted outside of their eschatological significance.  Jesus was acting out of the conviction that the focal point of Israel's history had come and the end of the exile was nigh.  Because of this Jesus took up the yoke of the prophets declaring Israel, Jerusalem, and the Temple to be under judgement.  Israel had again and again been warned about what would happen if she continued compromising with paganism and pagan politics, and Jesus-seeing the coming annihilation of Jerusalem at the hand of Rome-again declares God's judgment.  However, Wright points out that, "the divine reaction...was not capricious or malevolent.  Rather, the prophets, and the Messiah, had been trying to tell the people that there was a way of peace, a way to escape.  They were extending a lifeline" (Stricken 132-133).  

What is so refreshing about Wright's analysis is the holistic understanding of Israel's iniquity.  Israel's failure is not a moral failure, but a vocational failure.  Even as they did strive to be the Kingdom of God, the fought the battle "with the enemy's weapons," (Stricken 133) causing them to lose in principle as they would soon lose in practice; that is, in 70 CE.  Wright does see Jesus' death as substitutionary in the sense that he takes upon himself the wrath, that is "hostile military action," "which was coming upon Israel because she had compromised with paganism and was suffering exile" (Stricken 134). Furthermore, Jesus takes upon himself the consequences of Israel's refusing his way of peace.  

Again skipping ahead, in discussing how Jesus' death related to the sacrificial cult, Wright helpfully notes that, "The controlling metaphor that he [Jesus] chose for his crucial symbol was not the Day of Atonement, but Passover: the one-off moment of freedom in Israel's past, now to be translated into the one-off moment which would inaugurate Israel's future" (Stricken 143).  This is an enormously helpful observation as the Day of Atonement paradigm has dominated and continues to dominate Christian theology.  If Jesus is the paschal lamb, he is so for the purpose of bringing an end to the exile.  I would offer that many Christians read Exodus 12 through the lens of Leviticus 23 and Numbers 29 instead of the other way around.  Passover clearly looks forward to the end of exile, perhaps the Day of Atonement looks forward to the Jubilee: 

Then you shall have the trumpet sounded loud; on the tenth day of the seventh month—on the day of atonement—you shall have the trumpet sounded throughout all your land. And you shall hallow the fiftieth year and you shall proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. (Leviticus 25:9-10) 

  That is just an uneducated musing, but I think there is potential with that train of thought.  The point being that Jesus does not see the Day of Atonement as the defining symbol of his death, but rather Passover.  Therefore, our hermeneutical paradigm should be Passover.  At this point, James Alison's essay on "God's Self-Substitution and Sacrificial Inversion" make an interesting conversation partner.  Alison writes that, "The rite of atonement was about the Lord himself, the Creator, emerging from the Holy of Holies so as to set the people free from their impurities and sins and transgressions" (Stricken 168).  Rather than seeing ritual atonement as being perfectly inline with pagan sacrificial systems, Alison would insist that it marks a break from the need to placate the deity.  For Alison, the most important move in the liturgy is the priest coming out from behind the veil.  He notes, "The movement is not inwards towards the Holy of Holies; the movement is outwards from the Holy of Holies" (Stricken 169).  

Alison asserts that even the Hebrew sacrificial system was "both remembering and covering up...human sacrifice" (Stricken 173).  Jesus inserts himself into the sacrificial system in an effort "to make it clear that this is simply murder" (Stricken 173).  I think I am not misreading Alison to insist that the liturgical system of sacrifice was itself the undergirding for all forms of sacrifice.  Sacrifice offered pagans, and probably Jews, justification for dominating and killing others.  Jesus in his life, death, and resurrection breaks the system once and for all.  

Even if Alison's assessment is not completely accurate (which I am certainly not qualified to evaluate), it does lead us in the right direction.  The more we interpret Jesus' death in the paradigm of pagan sacrificial institutions, the more we will miss the point.  Alison ends his essay with a really striking analysis:

"That is the really difficult thing for us to imagine.  We can imagine retaliation, we can imagine protection; but we find it awfully difficult to imagine someone we despised, and were awfully glad not to be like -- whom we would rather cast out so as to keep ourselves going -- we find it awfully difficult to imagine that person generously irrupting into our midst so as to set us free to enable something quite new to open up for us.  But being empowered to imagine all that generosity is what atonement is all about; and that is what we are asked to live liturgically as Christians." (Stricken 179)

I think this is what Wright has in mind when he insists that Jesus "saw as a pagan corruption the very desire to fight paganism itself" (Stricken 134).  The defeat of Israel's oppressors was at the heart of Jesus' actions, but such a victory would be achieved on YHWH's terms. Jesus already had stated his rules of engagement: "For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it" (Matthew 16:25 NRSV).  For this reason Jesus declared judgment on Israel for seeking to resist Rome by force.  Wright insists that, "This judgment was not arbitrary; it was the necessary consequence of Israel's determination to follow the path of confrontation with Rome" (Stricken 146).

If Jesus' cross is going to be seen as a victory, it might be helpful to understand whom the victory is going to be over.  Wright helpfully writes:

"This, then, was how Jesus envisaged the messianic victory over the real enemy.  The satan had taken up residence in Jerusalem, not merely in Rome, and was seeking to pervert the chosen nation and the holy place into becoming a parody of themselves, a pseudo-chosen people intent on defeating the world with the world's methods, a pseudo-holy place seeking to defend itself against the world rather than to be the city set on a hill, shining its light on the world. One time: this does not mean that Jesus rejected the concept of chosen nation and holy place.  The whole point is that he embraced them; that he discerned, and tried to communicate, what the chosenness, in its scriptural roots, actually meant; and that, discovering the nation as a whole deaf and blind to his plea, he determined to go, himself to the holy place, and there to do what the chosen people ought to do.  He would act on behalf of, and in the place of, Israel, that was failing to be what she was called to be.  He would himself be the light of the world.  He would be the salt of the earth.  He would be set on a hill, unable to be hidden." (Stricken 147)

I have much more I could say about the significance of this narrative, but I will use this as a place to wrap up my reflections.  What I think must be said is that this placement of Jesus' crucifixion in the greater story of Israel fills two voids often present in Christian theology.  First, this understanding bridges the chasm between soteriology and Christian ethics.  Wright remarks that the symbol of the cross was not the symbol of Caesar's victory, but rather, "It would become the symbol, because it would be the means, of the victory of God" (Stricken 148). That said, I think Wright would agree with John Howard Yoder that, "The cross is not a detour or a hurdle on the way to the kingdom, nor is it even the way to the kingdom; it is the kingdom come" (The Politics of Jesus 51).  In other words, Jesus ushers in God's kingdom and defeats the kingdoms of the world with kingdom practices.  The second void Wright's answers the question posed by Michael Hardin earlier in the book, "How do the Testaments relate to one another?" (Stricken 63).  In fact, Wright's work makes this question sound somewhat absurd as you cannot understand Jesus' vocation as messiah without the Hebrew Bible.

There is much more to say, but for now this will have to suffice.

Leaving Penal Substitution...Whereto Next?

I begin this course and theological investigation by reading a substantial amount of Stricken by God: Nonviolent Identification and the Victory of Christ, edited by Brad Jersak and Michael Hardin.  This week's introductory essays, written by the editors themselves, set the stage for the conversation to be had by the various contributors.

Probably the most important thing to be gleaned from these two essays  is vocabulary.  Jersak uses the subtitle of the book, Nonviolent Identification and the Victory of Christ, as the common ground between the books participants.  A nonviolent view of the cross is not a denial that the cross is a violent episode (this would surely be nonsensical), but rather an insistence that at the cross "we are not witnessing God's violence" (Stricken 19).  The term identification refers not only to Christ's incarnation and his taking up humanity, but also his call for us to identify with him.  Or as Paul would put it, "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death" (Philippians 3:10 NRSV).  Finally, the cross must be seen as a victory in which Christ defeats "Satan, sin and death as he confronts and defeats them through his resistance, obedience, and resurrection" (Stricken 19).

From my current theological perspective, I find myself onboard with the project represented in Stricken By God.  However, I feel I must admit that two years ago I would not have been able to even espouse such a vocabulary of the atonement.  Further, I relate to Jersak's confession that in the past I have held the opinion that "one must believe in penal substitution to be a Christian" (Stricken 21).  I can vividly remember discussing such a notion with my old mentor in ministry espousing my frustration that Rob Bell was seriously missing the point of the cross on his The Gods Aren't Angry speaking tour.  This is more than slightly embarrassing to admit as I am stunned by the fact that I managed to come to this conclusion only through hearsay of what said tour was about, and that at the same time I was reading Girard in a class titled "Theories and Practices of Self-Sacrifice," and I apparently failed to make any connection between my academic and theological enquiries.

Jersak, in moving away from his previously held theological convictions, lists some common charges against penal substitutionary atonement.  One objection which interests me greatly is that, "It pits Father against Son" (Stricken 23). The idea of the Jesus taking upon himself God's wrath on the cross while at the same time praying for the forgiveness of those who are crucifying him, has always seemed problematic.  Has the Trinity allowed God to be in different bipolar moods at the same time, with the Father experiencing a serious wrathful episode while the benevolent Son declares pardon?  In the past I remember being taught that at least two actors were in play in the crucifixion: God and humanity.  God sends the son to serve as perfect sacrifice for the world's sin against God.  Humanity (i.e. the Jews and the Romans) conspires against its own creator and kills him for being too moral (or something along those lines; only recently as I have studied political readings of the gospels has the conspiracy to kill Jesus gained any coherence). If indeed God is doing violence against Jesus at the same time as his earthly persecutors, how does it make sense that Jesus prays for their forgiveness?  God forgive them for something you wanted me to do anyway.  Furthermore, if the cross is Jesus appeasing an angry God, then Christ's passion predictions are transformed into mystic fortune tellings about his own demise instead of Jesus' reading the signs of the times and explaining the most likely outcome of his resistance to the temple and Rome.

Michael Hardin's opening essay "Out of the Fog: New Horizons for Atonement Theory," gives a nice overview of some of the options proposed by contributors to Stricken and also by others.  Hardin's foremost desire is to analyze how atonement theories operate in our theological systems and to "discern how atonement theories are influenced by pagan thought forms" (Stricken 57).  His three major categories for such analysis are dualism, scripture, and God's honor. I won't address his analysis of dualism, but I would recommend Brian McLaren's chapter on "What Is the Overarching Story Line of the Bible?" in A New Kind of Christianity for a nice summation of how the Hellenistic dualism of real and ideal has influenced Christian theology.  Much more pertinent (at least in my mind) to a discussion of nonviolent identification and the cross is Hardin's section on scripture.

I cannot express how refreshing it is to see someone admit, "what is missing most in work on the atonement is an exploration of the presuppositions regarding the role of Scripture and the hermeneutic operative in the interpreter" (Stricken 59).  It seems blatantly obvious to state that one's assumptions about the Bible will influence every subsequent reading and conclusion.  To my friends who hold to the inerrancy and infallibility of scripture (who probably aren't reading this blog anyway), I want to say up front: I care deeply about the Bible.  I too derive great meaning in life from the Bible and I do not want to suggest another source to which Christians should turn. One strategy inerrancy and infallibility advocates use is to attack the character of those who would question their hermeneutic with accusations of laziness (You just want an easy way out.) or collusion with some more "worldly' influence.  Against such accusations I would simply say: Stop!  No one is impressed by how much you trust the Bible.

A friend of mine once suggested that an infallible bible is to Protestantism what the immaculate conception of Mary is to Roman Catholicism.  That is to say that both groups desire an unblemished source for their picture of God.  For this reason, I agree with Hardin's assertion that, "Jews and Christians don't need a perfect Bible; the perfect Bible will ultimately be distorted as myth" (Stricken 60).  In this assertion based on mimetic theory, "myth" refers to stories that are predicated on the guilt of the victim and the justification of the community's right to retribution.  If the Bible is meant to be read as a self-evident, perfect document, then it can be (and has been) easily interpreted to meet the needs of the violent systems we live in.  However, if scripture is self-critical it will be much more difficult for it to be co-opted by those looking for justification for their own agendas.  For instance, if part of the Old Testament is a story about good kings (namely David and Solomon) and bad kings (namely Ahab), then one could surmise that in order to rule over people one must simply imitate the good kings and avoid the mistakes of the bad kings.  If instead the Bible is portraying an anti-king (or anti-empire) agenda where the line between good and bad kings is blurred, then it presents a problem to anyone trying to justify their authority on scriptural grounds (they will of course try, but their justifications will be more easily opposed).

The question remains, "How does this relate to theologies of the cross and atonement?" Hardin puts it best writing that, "a text that is self-critical allows us as humans to hear another voice besides the prevalent, prevailing and dominating voice of the gods of human culture" (Stricken 60).  Following this line of thought, I would assert that in scripture we do not see Jesus as the fulfillment of the sacrificial system, but the abolishment of it.  I sometimes worry that Christians do not understand how quotidian sacrifice systems were in the biblical world.  If in fact Jesus is the propitiation for humanity's sins, taking upon himself the wrath of God, Christianity is in fact no different than many of the sacrificial religions of its day.  If this is the case, then Christianity might actually be worse.  Given the choice between sacrificing a human or sacrificing a virtually infinite amount of sheep, I (even as a vegetarian) would hope we would always choose the sheep.  Michael Hardin quotes Mark Heim who reminds us, "The cultic altar still defined sacrifice in terms determined by the model of founding murders" (Stricken 63).  The Bible does not present a cosmology based on Marduk's murder of Tiamat, but of the Creator God lovingly bringing all things into being and declaring them "good."

Hardin's discussion of God's honor does a nice job in breaking up the idea that the cross was "merely" a human plot to execute Jesus.  He writes, "To say the cross is merely the result of the evil plot of human beings is like saying the genocide in Darfur or the Balkans or the Holocaust is merely the result of an evil plot" (Stricken 67).  One contention often heard is that only penal substitutionary atonement takes sin seriously.  I would offer that this thesis is based far more on the human desire for retribution than on a concern for God's honor.  What happened to Jesus was deplorable, but we must not superimpose our own systems of justice onto it. On the cross we witness Jesus' forgiveness and the resurrection confounds all expectations (not only because it is unexpected for a man to rise from the read) by being the great act and promise of God's blessing.  Hardin notes that, "If God were retributive, then the resurrection would have been the terrible apocalypse of Jewish eschatology, the place of reciprocal retaliation for killing Jesus" (Stricken 71).  Instead, "By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading" (1 Peter 1:3-4).  Man's worst action leads to his greatest blessing.

Initial thoughts...

Last semester, my adviser, Ted Grimsrud, and I were planning my schedule for the coming fall semester.  After realizing that certain course offerings were overlapping, I inquired into the possibility of putting together my independent study.  After discussing exactly what such an endeavor would look like, I immediately knew what subject area I wanted to tackle: Theologies of the cross and the atonement.  This first post is the "before" image I hope to look back on once this semester is finished (so I can see all the unnecessary theological weight I have lost).  For the course I'm going to blog once a week reflecting on what I have been reading and I hope to think "out loud" here.  I am writing this post before the first week of classes has started, so hopefully this represents my perspective of origin before numerous readings clutter my mind.  

The reason I knew so quickly why I wanted to delve into theologies of the cross and atonement is because I see this as a constantly progressing theme in my spiritual and theological life.  My earliest memories of thinking through these issues come from my middle school years at an evangelical Anglican Church youth group.  I should preface my further remarks by saying that I would not be who I am today without these past experiences and none of these recollections/commentaries should be read as disparaging.  The ministry of this particular youth group could be closely likened to that model of Young Life.  As I best understood what was being communicated to me in this context, all persons were sinful and thus deserving death (spiritual death), Christ bore the punishment for all the world’s sin by dying on a cross, and people could confess their sin and accept Christ’s gift of eternal life.  I in no way want to trivialize this message and even more so want to emphasize the fact that this was the foundation of how I understood Christianity for a significant amount of time.

Through high school and into my first foray into university this message was with me.  I even, in turn, did ministry with high school students where I—week after week—stood before teenagers and told them this very same message.  During the time I attended Arizona State University, I became a member at a fast growing nondenominational neo-Calvinist church.   It was during my time there that I became interested in theology, particularly in systematic theology.  While there, I felt I was receiving biblical teaching in an astute package, and my eyes were consistently being opened to a specific theological tradition.  This was greatly beneficial for me as my early experience in church was influenced by some sort of evangelical, charismatic, conservative Anglican, and para-church style theology that—I as look back on it now—was oftentimes incoherent. Not so with my new Reformed brethren.  Doctrine, I was told, was back in.  You were supposed to believe the right things as well as having a personal relationship with God. 

This new church was greatly influenced by Wayne Grudem’s tome, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine.  I would venture it was probably thought by some in the congregation that if one could simply read, understand, and believe everything in this book, one would receive the keys to the kingdom or something along those lines.   All that is to say, there were certain things you needed to believe and it was to your peril to believe differently about certain things. 

It was in this church that I first encountered the idea of propitiation as Jesus taking God’s wrath for sin upon himself on the cross.  In some sermon I can only vaguely remember now, it was explained to me that the old trope, “Love the sinner, hate the sin,” was nonsense.  In fact, God hates sinners and Jesus took the hatred-in-action (wrath) upon himself when he was crucified.  I can easily recall arguing with roommates about this fact as I slowly convinced myself that this was indeed the case.  However, what I forced myself to believe was theologically sound subsequently left me with an uneasiness that has plagued me up to the present.

There are all sorts of reasons I could list as to why I need to study this subject and they range from recently newfound pacifist convictions to my seeing the psychological effects atonement theology has had on some of my friends who have left the church.  My goal in this research is not to discover a new theological formula hitherto unheard of, but to open my heart and mind to a variety of perspectives.  In doing so I would hope and pray that I would be better equipped to offer a theology that is good news to the world which God so loves. 

This semester I will be reading:

Boersma, Hans. Violence, Hospitality, and the Cross.  Grand Rapids: Baker

Academic, 2004.

Cone, James H. The Cross and the Lynching Tree.  Maryknoll: Orbis Books,

2011.

Finlan, Stephen. Options on Atonement in Christian Thought. Collegeville:

Liturgical Press, 2007.

Grimsrud, Ted. Instead of Atonement: The Bible’s Salvation Story and Our Hope for Wholeness. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2013.

Jersak, Brad and Michael Hardin, eds. Stricken By God? Grand Rapids: William

B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2007.

Tanner, Kathryn. “Death and sacrifice.”  In Christ the Key, 247-273. New York:

Cambridge University Press, 2010.

Trelstad, Marit, ed. Cross Examinations. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006.

Compline…

“Be present, O merciful God, and protect us through the hours of this night, so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; through Jesus Christ out Lord. Amen”

from The Book of Common Prayer

Jonah and the Gospel of Enemy Love

And the LORD said, "You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?"
- Jonah 4:10-11

We all know the story of Jonah and the Big Fish, but as I have been meditating on the book recently it seems that this narrative is incredibly rich and relevant. We begin with God calling Jonah to deliver his message to the evil city of Nineveh, in present times this is a bit like asking an American to go preach to Al Qaeda. Nineveh, being a city of the Assyrian empire, represented the downfall of Israel and so it should come as no surprise to us that Jonah does not want to accept this calling.

As we know, God is relentless in his pursuit of Jonah, and after a great squall and some time spent in the belly of a fish, Jonah arrives in Nineveh to preach repentance to his enemies. Whenever I discuss biblical ideas of peace and nonviolence with people, many are quick to point to books such as Joshua where we see violence done under the direction of God on a large scale (which I will admit is troubling and difficult to understand). Here though in Jonah, God extends his call for repentance to an enemy land.

Jonah is understandably perturbed by God's acceptance of the city, these people who conquered God's people deserve the Lord's vengeance, right? After the city repents in sackcloth and ashes, Jonah is greatly distressed and we begin to see his true motives. Jonah did not run from God to avoid a difficult task, he ran because he was afraid God would spare the city. If he ran away from his calling, he could thwart God's plan to send a messenger and disaster would come upon Nineveh.

Jonah goes out from the city to a place where he can wait and watch to see if God will destroy the city. While there God has a plant grow up over Jonah to give him some shade, but then the next morning sends a worm to kill the plant. Jonah becomes angry over the loss of comfort, and God uses this moment to show him how crazy he is being.

God cares greatly for the city of Nineveh (and apparently for the animals there too). The story is not centered on God trying to convert the Ninevites, but on God attempting to convert Jonah to the Gospel of Enemy Love. The scene reminds me of Genesis 18 where Abraham is interceding for Sodom. Abraham manages to haggle with God down to 10 righteous people (and some commentators have questioned whether Abraham could have asked God to spare the city even if none righteous were found). In Jonah however, God is trying to convince Jonah to spare the city of Nineveh in his heart.

God states that the people of Nineveh "do not know their right hand from their left" in a way that makes it rather unclear how accountable God is holding the city for its excessive evil. What does seem to be assured is that God cares for the city desires it would be saved. While this is not explicitly declare it seems that Jonah is the one who actually needs to repent and so do we.

Holy God who desires that none would perish, teach us how to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. Raise up your prophets to preach the Gospel that your enemies would repent and your children would seek peace. Amen.

Responding to the Death of Osama bin Laden

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.
(Matthew 5:43-45)

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
(Matthew 6:14-15)

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord." To the contrary, "if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
(Romans 12:14-21)

Enemy love is at the center of the Gospel.  Anyone who says otherwise is making excuses to defend their own non-biblical perspective.