Toward an Economic Model of Atonement

One of the challenges that I think faces any model of atonement is finding a way to connect with the systems of meaning in a given culture. Substitution certainly runs into this difficulty, as does in my view Christus Victor. Even the model of example, arguably the least esoteric, can find itself on odd footing - without a trinitarian underpinning and the other models to support it, this model can degenerate rather quickly into, "Don't be mean," and when taken too far becomes, "Let other people be mean to you," becoming something with little power to shape our imagination and enable a Christian way-of-being in the world.

The challenge, to my mind, is that these models all trade in metaphors that are not dominant in our culture. Legal imagery and talk of the powers simply do not have the rhetorical currency that they might have in other contexts. This is a problem, to my way of thinking - metaphors function in the way that they do precisely because they are intuitive. If a metaphor has to be explained, then it is no longer functioning as a metaphor - it has become something else, something that obscures rather than reveals. And I'd argue that this is where we are with atonement. The metaphors have ceased to function as metaphors and now require their own explanations. Worse, we've stopped believing that these things are metaphors at all, and have begun to treat them as though they are the truth towards which they point.

James wrote something a while back that has been rolling around in my head for a few months. He has this to say:

I have suggested before that many folks in our western, democratic culture have a difficult time imagining language of "kingdom." The concepts of kings and kingdoms are as foreign to most of us as the concept of "priesthood" is to a Southern Baptist (but that is another topic for another time). Based on this assumption of mine, I have argued that if Christ told parables in our culture he would not speak of the Kingdom of Heaven. More likely, he would tell us stories of the Economics of Heaven. But my hunch is that if Christ did tell these stories we would not like them very much.

I've done some thinking on this before, but for some reason this particular post of his triggered something that I've been working on ever since. I'm becoming quite convinced that we can craft a new metaphor for atonement that will resonate in contemporary western contexts, while having a robust connection to the stories told by the people of God throughout history. It's a metaphor that already offers significant scriptural resources, although I confess that I've never seen it discussed in the way that I'm suggesting. And it has the advantage of integrating some of the strengths of the other models into what I think could be a more cohesive whole. The metaphor is, of course, economics - I'm suggesting that we begin to do as James suggests, and tell stories of the economy of God.

The basic framework as I'm currently envisioning functions around the controlling metaphor of debt. I think that we can envision sin as a type of debt, a debt that we owe to God, to the Other, and to the world/creation. The basis for this concept of debt lies in the idea of reparations or recompense. When a wrong is done to another, we are under obligation to make it right - we take on a debt to the other. The economy of sin relies on this debt to function. This debt, however, is not one that can ever be paid in full; the problem is that we continue to accumulate it, so that even as we make restitution for one offense, we have continued to offend, resulting in an ever-increasing debt. The problem is compounded by those who demand payment in full, even as they themselves live under the weight of their own obligation. And the one to whom the primary recompense is owed is, of course, God.

God, as creator of all, is owed restitution for wrongs done against all. In other words, because each offense is in some sense an offense against God's creation project, God assumes a stake in all offense and as such is a party to any restitution that is owed. But, just as the debt between and among humans continues to mount, the restitution that is owed God by humanity as a whole continues to grow. This is where the atonement takes its significance. God, instead of demanding payment in full, enters into the agreement as a witness for humanity. When God becomes human in the person of Christ, he assumes the debt that humanity owes him as a personal responsibility. The tragedy of the incarnation is that humanity continues to amass debt by offenses committed against Christ. In some sense, the death of Christ takes this debt to its fullest extent by maximizing the offense. Humanity rejects, humiliates, tortures, and murders one who was God come among us. No greater offense is possible - humanity has, in a sense, maxed out our account.

The miracle of the atonement is that God breaks the cycle of offense and recompense by canceling the debt that is owed, in effect closing the account. This is possible because God is now both debtor and creditor, and because no further offense is possible. God destroys the economy of sin and inaugurates the economy of the Kingdom, which is no longer based on offense/restitution/debt but is rather based on forgiveness/freedom/generosity. The invitation to enter the economy of the Kingdom is open to all and sundry - but one cannot operate in both economies at the same time, as the fundamentals are in opposition. For the cycle of reparations to be broken, each one who enters the economy of the Kingdom must also give up claim to any restitution that is owed him or her. In this way, through generosity and freedom, the economy of the Kingdom grows and the economy of sin is lessened.

And that is the general framework. I think it's a valid model, and I think that it has the advantage of utilizing a metaphor that is already in place in scripture. Economic language is all over the place in the text and is often connected to this idea of a debt that is owed God or the Other. And I think the model offers significant resources for both deep reflection and deep practice - I think that it can avoid some of the spiritual/physical dichotomy issues that sometimes one encounters in other models. More on that shortly. But what do you think - does this resonate? Is there something here worth investigating?

Technorati Tags: atonement, economic model, theology

The Trouble with Substitution, or It's Only a Model (p.4)

I think this is going to be my last post on this - I actually hadn't intended to carry on this long, but I keep running into new problems as I think through these things. If you're just joining or if you need to see the standard I-don't-hate-substitution boilerplate, check out the first three here, here, and here.

I've been thinking about the resurrection of late - it's an appropriate time, I believe, to be doing so, and I've been contemplating how it shapes the way we view atonement. Or, perhaps put better, I've been trying to figure out why it doesn't play a bigger role in the way those of us who are from more evangelical traditions think about atonement. After all, as I mentioned previously, when Paul talked about what was "of first importance", he was speaking of the resurrection; he also states that "if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins." This seems to me a strong connection between resurrection and atonement. And some models, I think, do well with this. Substitution, however, is not one of them.

The resurrection simply does not play a large role in SA. And, as with the question of ethics, I think this is a weakness in the model itself and not only in the way that people frame it. Growing up in an evangelical tradition, I heard a lot about the resurrection. But I didn't hear about the resurrection in connection with atonement. The way the resurrection was framed seemed more about God cutting Jesus a break since he was a good kid than it seemed an important piece of the whole picture. The blood, the cross, death - these paid for my sins. Coming back to life was not discussed in this way. That was more about Jesus' proof that he was God or some such.

And there's the rub - if Christ's death is what accomplished redemption, then the resurrection is nothing more than a bonus. It does not have an integral part in the model; if it's included at all, it feels sort of bolted on, an afterthought that doesn't really contribute to the whole. When it is included, it's often framed in ways that borrow more from other models than ways that are integral to the whole. You can speak of Jesus' defeating the power of death, for example, and demonstrating that through his new life - but that's not really substitution. It's Christus Victor.

The problem is that Jesus can suffer wrath without experiencing resurrection - and suffering wrath is what SA is all about. Again, let me reiterate - that's not a bad thing. That's what SA does well; that's what it brings to the discussion. But when it's the only model, or even the central model, then we simply do not have a robust theology of resurrection. It's not necessary for the model to do what it does well. But that's precisely why it can't be the only or central motif. We need an invigorating theology of resurrection that speaks of new life, of new creation, of the death of death and the defeat of the powers. That is what resurrection is all about. It's the demonstration that Jesus has absorbed the worst that the powers can deliver and has come through unscathed. The powers are disarmed - they've done their worst and have failed. This is resurrection-talk. And those who are in Christ likewise share in his defeat of the powers. That is atonement viewed through the framework of the resurrection.

But it's not substitution. Substitution simply doesn't offer the resources to speak in such language. And that's not a bad thing, in one sense - it only becomes a problem when substitution takes over our way of viewing atonement. Substitution is a good model, when properly articulated. But it needs the other models to provide a full and rich picture of what atonement is all about.

Technorati Tags: atonement, substitution, resurrection, theology

Speechless

April 18, 2007

Technorati Tags: Children of Hurin, Tolkien

The Trouble with Substitution, or It's Only a Model (p.3)

I should post my standard I-don't-hate-substitution boilerplate here, but I've said it enough already. If you need it, or if you're just joining, feel free to check out parts one and two.

Continuing our discussion of the issues with substitutionary atonement as it's commonly articulated, I want to touch on something I find to be a glaring weakness in the model that I think precludes our viewing it as the central metaphor for atonement in the NT. It's actually something of an irony in that I'm thinking about the way that the cross functions in the NT versus how it functions in many articulations of this particular model. And to be honest, at least in this particular instance, I think the weakness is inherent to the model itself, and not so much a problem only with its articulations. The irony? I think that many defenders of SA think that they're attempting precisely to do justice to the cross in how they view atonement.

The point is that, for the NT authors, the cross functions primarily as the center of the NT ethic. The cross is our example, and it is held up as such over and over and over. I've said this before, but I'll repost because I think it so vital to our understanding of both atonement and ethics. Yoder writes in his landmark work The Politics of Jesus:

As we noted before more briefly: there is no general concept of living like Jesus in the New Testament...His formation of a small circle of disciples whom he taught through months of close contact has been claimed as a model pastoral method; his teaching of parables has been made a model of graphic communication; there have been efforts to imitate his prayer life or his forty days in the desert: but not in the New Testament.

There is but one realm in which the concept of imitation holds - but there it holds in every strand of the New Testament literature and all the more strikingly by virtue of the absence of parallels in other realms. This is the point of the concrete social meaning of the cross in relation to enmity and power. Servanthood replaces dominion; forgiveness absorbs hostility. Thus - and only thus - are we bound by New Testament thought to "be like Jesus." (pp 130-131, emphasis added)

I don't want to focus on Christus Exemplar here; if you're interested in a brief treatment of that, I wrote a piece for this month's next wave on the topic. What I am concerned about here is that substitutionary atonement seems particularly challenged to grapple with this particular strand of the NT.

Here is, to my mind, the problem: the focus in SA is on what happened in the cross event. It is about a one-time, unrepeatable, divine act on our behalf. It's about God's actions in and through Christ, framed in a particular way that precludes our having anything to do with the event at all. It has to do with a spiritual and ontological perspective on sin and how to fix it. And - don't misread me - this is a good thing. It's what SA does well; it's why the model exists in the first place. But - and this is a huge issue - as a result, substitutionary atonement cannot offer itself as a model with anything to say about a NT ethic. The only thing it might contribute is the ontological sense that freedom from sin allows us to live in ways that are not sinful. But it cannot function as an example for us - as the NT unmistakably and repeatedly speaks of the cross - precisely because it is a divine, unrepeatable act. So, if SA is in fact the primary lens through which the NT views atonement, why the focus on the cross as ethic? It simply doesn't make sense. And, conversely, is it any wonder that a movement that has come to view SA as the primary metaphor struggles with this very ethic of imitation?

David Fitch recently posted some thoughts on evangelicals and justice. One of the things that he discussed was the connection (or lack thereof) between SA and justice in evangelical theology:

In regards to the penal view of the atonement, salvation is defined as accepting the pardon of God for my sin accomplished at the cross when Jesus, being my substitute, paid the penalty for my sin. This view of the atonement, some say, leads us often to making our salvation a legal transaction for self-possession. Participating in the righteousness of God, his reconciliation being worked out in the world through the victory on the cross becomes an after thought.

I think he's exactly right here. Make no mistake - theology matters. What we believe shapes who we are and how we carry ourselves in the world. And if we neglect developing a robust theology of atonement that in some way connects with ethics in a primary sense, not as an afterthought, is it any wonder that we find ourselves ineffectual at actually finding a Christian way-of-being in the world?

Technorati Tags: atonement, substitution, ethics, theology

The Trouble with Substitution, or It's Only a Model (p.2)

Continuing our discussion of the model of substitutionary atonement, I want to pick up on how the way this particular model is articulated frames the way that we think about God's character. Again, I want to affirm at the outset that I'm not out to tear down or otherwise discredit what I find to be a perfectly biblical model for thinking about the atonement. Rather, I'm interested in engaging with what I perceive to be a failure of articulation - that substitution as it is commonly articulated invites misunderstanding and critique. And nowhere is this more evident than in how substitution frames our understanding of the person and character of God.

I don't think it's unfair to say that what is distinctive about substitution is its emphasis on wrath. And that is a good thing, I think - something needs to be said about wrath, because scripture says a lot about it. The problem is that what scripture means by wrath may not translate well into our context. Or, put differently, we need to be cautious about how we talk about wrath, because so much in this model hinges on this one word. Scot McKnight posted on this subject a while back, and offered this definition:

Let's be clear: this is not about God being "pissed off" as is the case with Zeus and the Olympians up in Greece who got all huffy about their status and starting tossing thunderbolts into the plains of Troy; this is not about God's violence or God's arbitrariness. It is not God flying off with rage and anger. That misses the whole Creator and covenantal origins of God's grace...I make this proposal: wrath has to be seen in the context of God being a Jealous God (Exod 34:14), and it has to be seen in the context of relationship. God made us as his Eikons, he gave us a responsibility to "eikon" all over the place, but we chose to crack the Eikon and we can either live as cracked Eikons or we can return to God in his grace and find forgiveness, healing, and restoration. If we choose to live as cracked Eikons we will be choosing to live with God's Jealous wrath that is simultaneously a yearning for us to return and a diminishment of our Eikonic vocation.

The problem that we run into is that, in our context, wrath means exactly "pissed off" and has connotations of violence. When we don't nuance how we talk about what scripture means by wrath, we give the impression that God has an anger management problem. And, in truth, I don't know if we're always fully aware of the distinction; I've read a lot of folks who are perfectly content to speak of God as someone who is really angry at most people, angry in the "Hulk Smash!" sort of way.

And nowhere is this more evident than when we speak of the atonement. By starting with this mistaken assumption or presupposition, we contribute to the image that God was so pissed off at sin that he had to find someone upon whom to vent his rage. Only there wasn't anyone who could exhaust it - so he had to vent it on his own Son. Now that he's been appeased, we can all get back to the business of living. That is, until the End, when we'll have another go at it for those who haven't toed the line.

Please understand - I'm not saying that this is what substitution is all about. I'm saying that this is how it can be heard, because we aren't careful in how we speak. I'm saying that we need to speak more cautiously and more expressively. We need to ground this in love and justice, because that's where scripture heads when talking about this sort of thing.

Justice - now there's an interesting word for you. Justice is another element that is distinctive to this model; it's what the penal part of penal substitution is all about. And it is, unfortunately, another element where we haven't been so careful. The common articulation is this: God is just; justice demands payment for wrongs; Jesus satisfies justice by rendering payment on humanity's behalf. There are a number of problems with this schema, not least its definition of justice. In this argument, justice is defined in a legal sense, and in particular a western legal sense - it is about seeing that wrongs are punished and payment exacted. Something is just when the punishment fits the crime - hence the reasoning that an offense against an infinite God is an infinite offense. But this runs into two challenges - it's inherently self-contradictory when applied to the atonement, and I'm not convinced that it's trading in the right semantic sphere.

Self-contradictory is a strong word, but I use it consciously, for that is truly what I believe. Here is the problem: for justice to be what we believe it to be, then punishment cannot be arbitrary - it must fit the crime. And if justice is defined as appropriate punishment of wrongs, then the suffering of an innocent for the wrongs of another is not just. It is, rather, a profound injustice. How could God's justice be demonstrated by innocent suffering on our behalf? I don't believe that it can - not if what we mean by justice is what twenty-first century representative democracies mean by justice. So this articulation runs into a profound problem from the outset: what is supposed to be a way for God to maintain both his love and his justice instead becomes the means for an infinite injustice, when viewed from within its own framework.

This, of course, brings us to the second problem. I'm not certain that what scripture means by justice is what we commonly think when we use the word. Reflect for a minute on its common usage and perhaps you'll see what I mean. Justice is more than legal in the biblical sense. When we speak of justice for the poor in the biblical sense, we don't just mean that they'll get a fair shake in court - although we certainly don't mean less than that. What we mean is that they would find restoration and wholeness, in an economic and communal sense. To do justice isn't simply to punish wrongs; it is to work for the restoration of God's creational intent. Scot again offers a helpful definition:

Justice, as defined by the Bible, is determined not by what I want, or by my own freedom and rights, but by the will of God. What is "just" is what conforms to the will of God. Anything less is morally deficient and anything else is not Christian. Now, let us suggest...that the ultimate and final will of God is that humans love God and that humans love others.

But this presents yet another challenge to the way that substitution is commonly articulated. One gets the sense that God is caught in something of a conundrum: He can't leave sin unpunished, for that would be unjust; but to punish sin as justice demands would mean the ruin of his intent for creation. The atonement, then, is his answer for this divine dilemma. But the problem is that justice becomes the arbiter of what God can and cannot do. It takes on something of a controlling force - God is constrained by this entity called "justice", which he cannot violate. This places justice in the superior position - it places demands on God, rather than being an expression of God's character and creational intent. And this, to me, is profoundly disturbing.

The answer, of course, is again more nuance. We must be careful to speak of justice in the way that scripture does, and not the way that those of us from twenty-first century representative democracies have come to think of it. When we place these pieces in perspective, undergirded by a robust Trinitarian theology - then, I think, we begin to grasp what substitution in the biblical sense is about.

Technorati Tags: atonement, justice, substitution, theology

The Trouble with Substitution, or It's Only A Model (p.1)

This is the post that I've been dreading. Part of me thinks I'm nuts for wading into this particular arena; I'll confess to a bit of trepidation that I'm going to somehow get dogpiled by a bunch of crazed Calvinists. On the other hand, this subject presents so many opportunities for misunderstanding, and I really don't want to contribute to that. But I do think some things need to be said here on the subject of substitutionary atonement, so I'm going to dive in and hope that I can speak appropriately.

Let me begin by saying this: I think substitution is a fine model for thinking about the atonement, when properly understood and articulated. I think that it's true to the scriptures and I think that we abandon it at our peril. I think that a lot of the problems begin with sloppy tellings, with a lack of care to maintain some of the distinctives that make it true and beautiful. So think of this as perhaps an open letter to the defenders of substitution, from a friend who shares your concerns. I think the problems begin when we attempt to place it in a privileged position, when we say things like substitution is the central motif or some such. When we make that assumption, then the model begins to drive our exegesis instead of our exegesis driving our model, and that's always a bad setup. A case in point: I've seen numerous folks point to 1 Corinthians 15:3 to argue that substitution is at the center of the gospel:

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures,

The argument goes something like this: "See, Paul said that it was of 'first importance' that Christ died for our sins. Therefore, substitution is the most important part of the gospel. Paul said so right here." The problem here is that we've already decided what it means that Christ died "for our sins", and we're assuming that meaning in the text. What isn't actually stated is that Christ died for our sins to appease God's wrath, which is the key part of substitution that differentiates it from other models. There are other models that talk of Christ dying for our sins, but that wouldn't use the motif of wrath to do so - Christus Victor is the first that comes to mind, although in truth I could probably argue that any model of atonement is attempting to explain what it means that Christ died "for our sins". So the verse only functions in the sense of defending substitution if substitution is already assumed as its referent - without that assumption, it simply refers to atonement without speaking to the more specific question of what atonement means. Which brings me to my second point - Paul's main point here isn't actually about atonement at all. Notice in the English translation that there's actually a comma hanging out at the end of that last clause, and you'll realize that there's more to be said here:

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve. After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles, and last of all he appeared to me also, as to one abnormally born...But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?

So Paul here isn't arguing about atonement at all - he's in fact arguing that the Resurrection was a real event witnessed by real people, and that his preaching testifies to something that really happened. What is of first importance? That Christ died, was buried, and rose on the third day - not a particular way of understanding what that means now in some metaphysical sense. When the model drives the exegesis, then the exegesis turns into something unhealthy - it can no longer speak truth to us, but only what we want to hear. And that's something we can all stand to remember in this particular area.

I was going to add some more thoughts, but I've said much more thus far than I had intended. But I think that's perhaps a good thing in this case. Next, I want to reflect on what substitution, when articulated poorly, says about God's character.

Technorati Tags: atonement, substitution

Feed Issues on Bloglines

For some reason, Bloglines has decided to join Technorati in the ranks of Websites That Hate Me™. None of my feeds have been updating on bloglines, even though they appear to be fine everywhere else. The folks at bloglines are supposed to be working on it for me but it's been several days now and no luck. In the meantime, if you're a bloglines user, I've set up a new feed through feedburner - you can subscribe to that feed at http://feeds.feedburner.com/theopraxis/. It appears to be working just fine. Although, if you're a bloglines user, I suppose you probably have little chance of actually seeing this post. Crap. Well, for everyone else, the existing feeds aren't going anywhere but feel free to jump on the new one just the same. ;)

On Trinitarian Thought

One of the first classes that I had at Biblical was a theology course with John Franke. I have a lot of respect for John; Beyond Foundationalism is the book that brought me to Biblical in the first place, and when I was attempting to make a decision about transferring, he took the time to sit down over dinner to answer my questions and help me decide if it would be a good fit. And it was, on many levels - I owe a lot of who I am today to that dinner over four years ago. But I digress. One of the questions that he presented in this class has remained with me ever since - I drag it out from time to time to keep myself honest. The discussion was around the nature of doctrine; we were discussing, as I recall, what it is that makes one a Christian. The doctrine of the trinity surfaced fairly early in the discussion, and this is the point at which John asked, "What difference does belief in the trinity make in your life? If you didn't believe in the trinity, how would things be different?" Truth be told, we were hard pressed to answer.

Something as supposedly central to our faith as belief in the trinity should serve as more than a simple boundary marker for orthodoxy, shouldn't it? Shouldn't we be able to point to the ways in which we are different people as a result of telling the Story in this way rather than in some other? And, if we can't, does it really serve as the boundary marker that we believe it to be?

I've found it to be a haunting question, one that I've tried to allow to shape my thinking in a greater way since. And, in truth, once I became aware of the ways in which trinitarian theology didn't have a place in my thinking, I've become surprised at the ways in which that has changed. It isn't surprising to me that the earliest conflicts that the church faced centered on issues of Christology - and, more specifically, on trinitarian Christology, on what it meant for Jesus to say, "I and the Father are One."

I say all of this because I think it likely that many in similar contexts have similar experiences. The Trinity, for some reason that I find difficult to imagine, simply fails to capture our imagination or inform our faith in anything more than a cognitive sense. I think it likely that the doctrine for many of us is more a source of puzzlement than anything wondrous or, on the other hand, practical. But to me it has become the central motif of the New Testament. Put more plainly, I think the gospel is at the center of the NT, and the cross is at the center of the gospel, and the Trinity is at the center of the cross. And I think the gospel is at the center of Christian ethics - so there is for me a sense that, without the Trinity, Christian ethics simply do not function.

Let me say it this way - when thinking about the atonement, it is absolutely critical that we maintain the sense that God the Father and God the Son are not two distinct parties in the event, in the way that we would normally think about such things. It simply isn't possible to be faithful to the Story and think about God as one party pouring out wrath on the Son as a separate and distinct individual (to borrow from one model). There is a strong and necessary sense in which God is the suffering one, God is the one who receives wrath, God is the one who absorbs the violence, God is the one who is given as a ransom for many. The story of Christ is the story of a God who looked down on the suffering of his people and, to borrow from the Exodus story, has "come down to rescue them." This, contra others who may place one model or another at the center, is what is at the heart of the gospel - it is the story of the God Who Has Come Down.

Not only do I think this a better telling of the Story than some, I find it also to be full of resources for a truly Christian way-of-being in the world. This story of a self-giving God who sets aside his power and takes on the very nature of a servant is one that can be imitated and followed. We must be careful, then, to maintain that sense of identity between Father and Son, no matter what approach we take towards the atonement. To do otherwise is to tell the tale falsely; worse, it is to create something different and wrong, a bastardization of something true and beautiful and wondrous.

Technorati Tags: atonement, John Franke, Trinity

Thinking about Atonement

Ever had that feeling that you want to dive into a conversation, but you think you're going to end up making a mess of things? That's sort of where I am at the moment. I've been pondering the subject of atonement for a few weeks now, and I really think that I want to head in that direction. I have a number of half-formed ideas here that really need to be put down on paper (figuratively speaking) so that I can get my head around them - but I'm not really certain where to begin. The conversation is, in many spheres, already underway, even if it seems that there's more heat than light of late. Most of it centers on the debate about substitutionary atonement, about whether such a model is or isn't adequate to describe what happened on the Cross, and about whether such a model carries any currency today. There are those who will make substitutionary atonement so central to Christian thought that, it is declared, to deny it is to deny the gospel; there are others who proclaim that it is a vile doctrine that is tantamount to divine child abuse. In the process, other models are also receiving attention, both good and bad - the moral example model is both in vogue and under fire these days as well. As I said, heat vs. light.

I don't really have a dog in this fight, to be honest - or at least I find myself sympathetic to both sides. I think there's something deep and beautiful and true about substitution, but I think that many (most?) of the current articulations of it aren't worth a bucket of spit. I think it has its own set of challenges and difficulties in twenty-first century western society, some of which are because it's offensive in that it challenges our sensibilities, and others because it's offensive in that it tends to interact quite poorly with semantic systems that don't quite function in the right way to grasp what it's all about. It tends - again, to be specific, I mean its current iterations - to interact with an articulation of justice that is odd and, well, I think flawed. And, probably more importantly, it's too often described in such a manner that it loses the trinitarian core that makes the whole thing hold together (by both its defenders and detractors). But I don't think that one can simply jettison it without doing damage to the larger narrative. More on this shortly - I've perhaps said too much already.

The question that keeps me up at night, though, isn't really satisfaction and its pros and cons. I'm currently wrestling with something that's more contextual in nature. I suppose it's on some level connected to the question of semantic systems that I mentioned earlier. Bottom line - I'm unconvinced that we have a model that carries the sort of freight that's needed to tell the story in a way that resonates with contemporary western culture. And that's not out of a desire to avoid particular sensitivities of a polite society - please don't misread! I'm just not entirely certain that we have a way of talking about the atonement in such a way as to do justice to both it and to those who would hear about it. And I have some ideas on where to head with that, ideas that I want to take for a test drive, so to speak. I'm thinking that there is a significant degree of economic metaphor in the scriptures that could be utilized for such an undertaking, metaphor that would resonate significantly with a culture that derives its primary systems of meaning from just such a realm. Again, more to come on this one - it's still not all there yet.

Well, that's that - I thought perhaps that if I just sat down and started to write that things would come together of their own accord. First up, I think, will be some preliminaries; in particular, I want to begin with a bit of thinking on the Trinity, perhaps Protestantism's most underappreciated and underutilized doctrine, with a few thoughts on why failing to get trinitarian thought will scuttle any attempt to understand atonement before we've even begun.

It's good to be back. ;)

Technorati Tags: atonement

Mostly Back

So technically I suppose I'm back, but I spent half of this evening debugging an issue that was preventing pages from loading on the site. On top of that, I feel like I got punched in the gut - I'm guessing it's something I picked up from the small one. In lieu of a full post, I'll just point you towards an article I did for The Porpoise Diving Life and attempt to get some thoughts pulled together tomorrow.