Atonement through the Ages: Final Thoughts

Over the past few weeks, we’ve been exploring the most important ways Christians have understood the atonement — what it was God was doing in Jesus of Nazareth ‘for us and for our salvation’ — throughout history. Now it’s time to put some of the pieces together and offer some concluding thoughts.

The atonement is without a doubt the central doctrine of Christianity, so what we have to say about it — the story we tell about it — is very important. It will inform so many other aspects of our faith and how we live it out. So before I talk about any of the particular atonement perspectives, I’d like to think through those elements that, after over twenty years of studying, thinking about, and praying through these issues, I feel are the most important considerations in atonement theology.

First, and most obvious, is that our atonement theology needs to be biblical, not just in terms of proof texts, but also in its logic, in the picture it paints about God, in the breadth of its language and imagery, and its rootedness in late Second Temple Judaism. And in terms of the last two of those, it must accurately reflect it, not just make assumptions about it.

Second, it has to account for as much of ‘the Christ event’ as possible. It cannot marginalize the incarnation, Jesus’ teaching and healing ministry, his death, or his resurrection and glorification. If we believe that “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself” (2 Corinthians 5.19), then none of what God was doing in and through Christ can be left behind, and each of these elements should be as important as possible.

And third, the logic of any atonement theology needs to balance the objective and subjective aspects of Christ’s reconciling work. That is to say, in emphasizing Christ’s atoning work as a once-and-for-all event that fundamentally did something and changed the possibilities of humanity’s relationship with God, we cannot ignore the need for us to appropriate that work and live it out in our own lives. And, vice versa. This is something that has become increasingly important for me over the years. I used to love the objective side of theology — and the bigger, bolder the language, the better. Not just in atonement theology, but in sacramental theology, ecclesiology (beliefs about the Church), and everything in between. But, without in any way wanting to reject or reduce the importance of the objective side, I’ve developed an increasing understanding of the importance of the subjective side too. Christianity has inspired many wonderful acts over the centuries (something its detractors are too quick to ignore), but many horrific acts have also been committed in Christ’s name (something Christians are too quick to ignore — and far too quick to perpetuate). So, if we only talk about the objective side of the work of Christ, we have to conclude that Christianity over-promises and under-delivers. ‘Accepting Jesus as your Lord and Saviour,’ being baptized, and participating in the Eucharist, and so on, simply does not do what the Scriptures claim they do if we only talk about their objective dimensions. This is a frustration that goes back to the New Testament itself; Paul, the very person who developed a lot of the objective language we use, spent most of his Epistles writing about attitudes and behaviour that Christians weren’t exhibiting that his objective theology demanded. Belief, professing faith, and being baptized are great and necessary, but the long, sad history of the Church clearly shows that they are only the beginning. To say it once again, Paul’s understanding of salvation is about our participation in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.

Based on these criteria (which, again, are my criteria — others may have different priorities), the two motifs that rise to the top are Christus Victor — the guiding motif of Jesus saving the cosmos from the power of evil — and the nonviolent atonement. They both are profoundly Scriptural in their internal logic, understand God in a way that is consistent with the teaching of Jesus, allow for a reasonable breadth of the biblical imagery, and don’t fundamentally misrepresent Judaism. Likewise, they both do the best job of highlighting the importance of everything God was doing in Christ, rather than just focusing on one or two and ignoring others. (As we saw, most of the other atonement motifs surprisingly had little to say about the Resurrection, which is clearly of utmost importance in the New Testament.) And, both of these motifs balance a strong understanding of the objective aspect of the atonement with a subjective understanding that insists that we participate in and carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation. It makes sense that these two would pattern closely together, since their logic amounts to much the same thing: Both tell a story wherein God in Christ acts to free humanity from being trapped by forces largely beyond our control, and present Christ’s death as a false victory for those forces, undone by the resurrection. Really, nonviolent atonement is largely just a reframing of the less fantastical versions of Christus Victor in the language of contemporary sociology and psychology.

On the opposite side of things, the Medieval and Early Modern Western perspectives, which I grouped under the larger headings of satisfaction and substitution, fare quite poorly on these criteria. They tell a focused and internally consistent story about God, sin, and humanity, but it’s a story that doesn’t fit well with the breadth of the biblical imagery, only captures a small and unrepresentative part of how the Bible talks about God, misunderstands how the Old Testament sacrificial system worked, and presents forgiveness of sins as a problem for God, when there is little in the Bible to suggest that this is the case. They likewise focus on the incarnation and death of Jesus to the exclusion of his ministry and resurrection (and even the incarnation is rendered only a means to the end of his death). And, they represent an atonement theology that highlights the objective aspect to the point of excluding the subjective. At the same time, it must be said that, at least in their canonical forms, they aren’t quite as bad as many of their detractors today think they are. But, when that standard is ‘a blood-thirsty God with uncontrolled anger issues who either kills his child or self-mutilates as the only means of appeasing his own wrath’, that’s a pretty low bar!

The other perspectives we looked at in the series — Passover, Bridegroom, and Moral Influence — lack mostly in simply being incomplete: They work, but can’t carry the full load of atonement theology on their shoulders. And this is fine. It’s only a problem if we insist on having one single atonement theory. And I don’t think we need that at all. Again, to return to the 2021 series, the Bible talks about sin and salvation through a variety of metaphors and images, each of which reveals a different aspect of a complex spiritual truth. And allowing ourselves to speak of the atonement using different motifs is our best way of not falling into the trap of a narrow and unrepresentative theology.

This is not only the approach taken by the New Testament writers, but also the Apostolic Fathers and other early Church Fathers such as Irenaeus of Lyons. To share an early example of this, the Epistle of Barnabas, which is arguably the book that came the closest to being included in the New Testament but wasn’t, in a lengthy, two-chapter-long discussion of the cross, describes the atoning work of Christ in all of the following ways:

• “For it was for this reason that the Lord endured the deliverance of his flesh to corruption, so that we might be cleansed by the forgiveness of sins, that is, by his sprinkled blood.” (5.1, cf. the emphasis on sacrifice and forgiveness from satisfaction and substitution theories)
• “People deserve to perish if, having knowledge of the way of righteousness, they ensnare themselves in the way of darkness.” (5.4, cf., the personal responsibility of satisfaction and substitution theories)
• “But he himself submitted, in order that he might destroy death and demonstrate the reality of the resurrection of the dead …” (5.6, cf, Christus Victor)
• “Furthermore, by teaching Israel and performing extraordinary wonders and signs, he preached and loved them intently … For if he had not come I the flesh, people could in no way have been saved by looking at him.” (5.8, 10; cf., Moral Influence)
• “Therefore the Son of God came in the flesh for this reason, so that he might complete the full measure of the sins of those who persecuted his prophets to death.” (5.11, cf., nonviolent atonement)
• “It was for this reason, therefore, that he submitted. For God says that the wounds of his flesh came from them: ‘When they strike down their own shepherd, then the sheep of the flock will perish.’” (5.12, cf., nonviolent atonement)
• “… the Son of God … suffered in order that his wounds might give us life …” (7.2; while this could fit in many of the atonement motifs, this language is common in substitution theory)
• “… offer the vessel of his spirit as a sacrifice for our sins, in order that the type established by Isaac, who was offered upon the altar, might be fulfilled.’” (7.3, cf., recapitulation)
• “Scapegoat” (7.7, cf., nonviolent atonement)

This breadth of language cannot be contained in any specific atonement ‘theory’. And, in early Christian thought, the mixing of metaphors was often the point: Everything pointed to and was fulfilled in Christ. (Now, we’re in recapitulation territory!) They wanted as big and bold an theology as possible, and to bring as much of their tradition with them into what they saw as an entirely new era. And so, they were happy to enjoy the buffet of imagery the Scriptures provide, and I am convinced we would do well to follow their example.

Thank you for joining me in this series exploring the different ways Christians have understood this important doctrine over the centuries. I hope it’s been not only informative and helpful, but also edifying.