My current
thoughts on theology have danced around the topic of the atonement. They
were sparked by an article in Christianity Today that bemoaned the
loss of the centrality of a particular atonement theory in modern evangelical
circles.
The author was describing a trend away from this centrality in tones that he
intended as a clarion call to repentance, a return to orthodoxy. But my
own response was the opposite. I was pleased to note that so many are
finding it less than necessary to live with the now-standard notions of
atonement.
And so my thinking goes: I believe in the essence of what lies behind the
stories of atonement, but not the specific theories of atonement (blood
payment, or satisfaction, or ransom). These stories made sense in their
time, and in context of the biblical stories are entirely consistent.
But I cannot hold them close to me any longer. They simply do not make
sense. They do not resonate with me. I cannot envision a God who
would require anything of the sort (neither the sacrifice of animals or of
Jesus on the cross) in order to bring humankind into a salvific relationship
with God. There is obvious benefit to us in making sacrifice, but no
objective change in what God is able to do...although given my own tendency to
thinking in free-will terms, God is self-limiting, and will not/can not
override our wanting and acting.
Still, all of that refers mostly to OT sacrifices and atonement stories.
The NT atonement references are conscious reinterpretations of the OT, and
brilliant. But again, only within that closed system of thinking do they
still make sense.
The OT is rife
with a religious perspective that we do not fully share—though we readily use
its terminology. The NT appropriates
this world view; but the imagery is one step removed from its literalness (see
the NT book of Hebrews).
To wit: the OT
poses the problem of satisfying a divine demand for blood, though this
rationale is not explained beyond the reference to the natural blood-life
connection. The NT moves one step beyond
the allowable animal substitute, and presents an interpretation of Jesus on the
Cross as a new, fuller, better, and now once-for-all complete substitute
sacrifice.
No more animal
blood, the act is complete; yet the imagery is itself unexplained, built as it
is upon a more literal sacrifice of the past.
And now, while we
use the words, notably of salvation by His Blood, this is all upon a system of
sacrifices we neither fully understand nor could possibly accept. What’s more, the ancient OT world had a
concept of God very different: why, for
example, does/did animal sacrifice “work”?
Was it ever objectively effective?
Or, as I suspect of our own salvation experiences, was this animal
sacrifice also subjectively effective—it worked in a way because of the
attitude, etc., of the worshiper?
This after all is
the charge of works righteousness, that somehow contrition brings
holiness. But then if it “works”—if the
sacrifice is propitiatory—because the subjective attitude is present and right
(and there is great evidence that the attitude was more important than the act)
then is there really an objective act involved?
That is, does anything outside of ourselves (i.e., God’s attitude or
acceptance or whatever) change?
But maybe there is
no (objective, transcendent) record book to be wiped clean. Maybe there is no judge, prosecuting
attorney, defense attorney, etc.—all those roles imagined being played in the
cosmic drama of one of the atonement theories.
And maybe there is no jailer, no slave owner, no one from whom we need
rescue or monetary debt redemption.
Maybe all of the
pictures of the atonement the Bible allows us to draw are metaphors after
all. Maybe they are mere attempts to
illustrate our (ancient ancestral) perspectives, and each carries deep scars of
temporal connections.
What then are we
to do, what to say, how to think? So
what does atonement mean? And how is it "accomplished"? How can
we speak of atonement in terms that make sense—that honestly and faithfully
represent our spiritual experiences yet do not wholly rely upon a system of
sacrifice that does not represent our physical experiences nor a concept of God
that no longer makes sense?
I suggest a new
beginning story. The traditional
foundational picture is a story of an ideal life marred by sin. This is
how primeval humankind made sense of what they saw and felt: they saw imperfect
life, but felt like it ought to be better. So they imagined that it had
been, and then the very real and obviously true tendency of humanity to do
wrong destroyed that perfection. And then the necessity to get back to
full relationship with God led to actions on our part, the sacrifices.
But what if the Genesis story were reinterpreted, re-read? The initiating
observations are the same: we saw an imperfect life, and the innate tendency
(an inclination common to all of us, from birth) to act in ways that are
destructive (but which are at root attempts at self-protection,
self-care). All of this remains the same from our subjective observations
of how life is—and so becomes part of the new Genesis myth of how things were
"in the beginning."
Remember that a central component of creation is ordering from chaos. And
so my re-read Genesis story continues: into the chaos of this life as we know
it enters God. Slowly, gradually, as we come to know more fully who God
is, and come to be changed more completely by the presence of God who is among
us, we discover and develop that salvific relationship. (I should say
also that my theology now defines salvation entirely in terms of relationship.)
This metaphor myth makes sense on two levels, macro and micro; also on levels
of the individual and the community. We
may speak of creation as bringing order from chaos in the natural world. And we can point to other stories of
re-creation, like with Noah and the return from exile.
But then we need
to acknowledge that we, too, are part of the natural world. God’s coming into our lives as a creative
force is what revelation and salvation signify.
Religion becomes a way of making sense, and finding meaning, a way of
living together as humans and in relation with the world in peace/harmony—this
is good.
The re-atonement
story is not just where we have come from.
It is where we are going.
So instead of a
picture of the ideal that has been corrupted, it is a picture of the natural
world—which feels incomplete and chaotic—that is transformed into the ideal, a
vision we all long for and wish for. This story then is the foundation
for what atonement is: God making the first step (prevenient grace), reaching
out to us and enabling us to respond (reversing total depravity), and
transforming us from our inclination toward evil so that our very desires
resonate with God's: this life-giving grace is a continuing, sanctifying grace.
This approach also
addresses the problem of what has been called “inherited depravity.” Which is to pose the question that arises
when one literalizes the Genesis story: how is it that every human being born
since has this natural tendency toward the selfish and corrupt and the
wrong? Inherited depravity as a theory
answers that since Adam’s sin all are sinners, as if there was some change in
the moral genetics.
But removing the
literalness of the story, and then starting at a different point than the ideal
Garden of Eden scene, allows us to imagine a different answer. How is it that we’re inclined toward
chaos? Because chaos is where we are
from, and order and Shalom is where we want to go. We are not fallen, but we
are feeling the chaos as part of our nature.
I really like the case you lay out against the traditional idea of atonement; it makes sense to me that we get too caught up in the NT's reinterpretation of the OT and haven't really gotten an understanding of how atonement might work in a world where animal sacrifice doesn't seem to make much sense.
ReplyDeleteMy big question is (and you might have already answered it here--I can't tell for sure): is your new atonement story connected to Christ's death on the cross? What meaning does that have, if not atonement? And if it does fit into the idea of atonement, how does that work?
The short answer (probably too concise and ultimately unsatisfying) is that the story of the cross effectively is the end of the atonement complex...insofar as atonement had been considered a necessary violent cultic action. The cross reveals the reality of this complex.
ReplyDeleteWhile my post here is mostly about the beginning story (a critique of 'the fall') it intertwines with the salvation story. Salvation, as my earlier posts note, is more about the revelation of the presence of God, something that the person and work of Christ certainly accomplishes, and perhaps more in the resurrection than anything. The resurrection as vindication of the true innocence of the victim is part of the unmaking of the violence of prior atonement sacrifices.
I'm still working out some of these ideas, and I find some fruitful ground in girardian theory. It helps to talk it through, so thanks for the comment and question.
Here's more: http://girardianlectionary.net/res/atonement_webpage.htm