HEBREWS: Atonement 101

There’s one last conversation I would like to put on the table before we jettison the book of Hebrews: atonement. 

For many, the theology of atonement isn’t one that bothers them; they aren’t even aware there’s a “conversation” about it, and I hesitate to bring it up at all. But then I’m reminded of the other folks who have serious questions and I remember the importance and need to bring questions to the table. I know that years ago, I would have said atonement is at least the one thing all believers in Jesus understand clearly and believe in, but I have since come to realize this isn’t the case.

And I’m glad.

I’m glad because as I’ve continued to study the Bible and theology, I have found the way we talk about atonement alarming at times, to say the least. I was once in a church service where the teacher was telling a story about how his daughter had recently been harassed by a man at her workplace. Week after week, this person would make her uncomfortable and she would take great measures to avoid him. On a family excursion out of town, coincidentally, they ran into the individual at a department store. The preacher explained how he put his daughter behind him and stood in front of her, shielding her from the individual’s view, so when he came around the corner he didn’t see the daughter, but the larger, more intimidating dad. The preacher then said, “That’s what Jesus does for you. When God looks at you, He doesn’t see you. He sees Jesus standing in front of you.”

My mouth dropped open as I realized he had just allegorically equated God the Father to a sociopathic predator, and the room nodded in agreement, muttering soft “amens” and “hallelujahs” under their breath.

That is disturbing theology.

But I’m thankful for the conversation, because I had very similar questions about my understanding of atonement when I was growing up. Logically speaking, isn’t this where evangelical theology has to land? It was liberating to find the conversation surrounding atonement is much bigger than I was aware.

I bring this up in the book of Hebrews because Hebrews is the book in the New Testament that speaks directly to and about atonement. I find it ironic that we go to the book of Romans to explain our evangelical understanding of atonement — a book that doesn’t speak directly to atonement at all. As we learned with our time in Romans, the book is about justification, not atonement. Especially from the Jewish perspective of the New Testament and its authors, these are two wildly different conversations (even though the two ideas are directly linked in evangelical circles).

I will give a very quick overview of the different theologies of atonement that have shaped Christianity over the last 2,000 years. I will not resolve the conversation, for this is not what I believe is most helpful; I will simply point out that there is a conversation. I should also say there are other resources that will do what I am about to do much better than I will. There is a short (three chapters) e-book by Tony Jones, A Better Atonement: Beyond the Depraved Doctrine of Original Sin, that does a wonderful job explaining the conversation in a way that helps one understand the basics. He has written another book titled Did God Kill Jesus? that deals with the subject matter.

At any rate, one of the oldest theologies of atonement is the idea of Ransom-Captive theology. This idea is more poetic in its theology than mechanical. It espoused the idea that Satan had held the world captive to sin. He was willing to make a deal with God that if He would give Jesus as a ransom payment, Satan would let God’s children go. God agrees, handing over Jesus, who is crucified; Jesus then rises from the dead, leaving Satan empty handed. One might recognize this theology as playing a part in The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.

The problems with this theory are multifaceted. To name just a couple, it puts the power in the hands of Satan and makes God out to be a deceiving hustler. Centuries later, this theory had run its course and needed to be replaced.

This led to the idea of Christus Victor. For the next handful of centuries, Christians held to the idea that Jesus came to conquer the realm of sin and death. There was the Order of Death that had reign and influence in this world, and Christ’s death and resurrection defeated this order and ushered in the Order of Life. This theory of atonement has recently made a comeback, with a repainting of the old understandings; theologians like Greg Boyd promote this reclaimed understanding of Christus Victor.

The problem with this theory is that it doesn’t have a mechanical explanation for the atonement of personal sin; while it explains the meta-narrative of two kingdoms and the struggle of light and darkness, it doesn’t actually explain how my mistakes are atoned for. It’s worth noting that the theories of atonement are largely driven by the historical context of their inception. Ransom-Captive appears on the scene of a persecuted church, being held captive by powerful enemies and needing to be liberated. Christus Victor is developed during the period of imperial conquest and the Crusades.

That will help us understand the construction of the atonement theory many of us were raised with, known as penal substitutionary atonement. The idea here is that because of your sin, death is demanded. God loves you too much to let you die, so He sends Jesus into the world to die as your substitute. In this way, the penal demand for death is satisfied and your acceptance of this gift is your ticket to atonement and eternal life. It should be worth noting that this understanding of atonement was explained during the days of the Reformation, in a new world of contracts and legal documents — a world that didn’t exist before that era. Theologians like John Calvin were lawyers who took their knowledge of legal matters and applied it to their theology.

The problem with this theory (in addition to what it does to our understanding of the Trinity as referenced above) is that it suggests God is bound by a non-existent court and a rule book that must be superior to Himself. The true freedom of God is not maintained; He is forced to do certain things in certain ways.

Other theories have been at play, and most of us have simply been unaware of those. The rise of textual criticism, secularism, and liberal theology toward the beginning of the twentieth century led to moral exemplar theory, an idea that said Jesus’s death on the cross was the ultimate example of the self-sacrificial ethic Jesus spent his whole life teaching. These theologians say Jesus’s teaching and life demanded he would lay his own life down on behalf of others, in order to take down corrupt systems of religious oppression. For many of us, this theory stops far too short and has a slightly hollow ring to it.

Another theory, espoused by Jones in the books mentioned above, is solidarity theory. This idea is that God took on flesh in the incarnation and walked among us to join humanity in the greatest movement of solidarity we have ever seen. Jesus came to sweat our sweat, taste our food, cry our tears, bleed our blood, and ultimately die our death.

And yet another theory tries to see atonement through a more Hebraic lens (obviously, my personal favorite). Scapegoat theory was proposed by the late theologian Rene Girard. I believe the world of theology will look back fifty years from now and realize the understated impact Girard’s theology will have on evangelicalism and Christendom as a whole. Scapegoat theory states that Jesus’s death served as the ultimate sacrifice, just as the scapegoat did in the Levitical system. The scapegoat was given as a representation of the forgiveness of God and the removal of your sin, so Jesus was offered “at the culmination of the ages… once for all time” for the cleansing of your conscience. No longer do we have to offer an annual scapegoat, for this sacrifice of God Himself is good for all of eternity to accomplish what the blood of bulls and goats could never do.

I say all of this (again, with no intent of resolution) for a few reasons:

First, simply for theological awareness. While such knowledge will frustrate many — who like their clean boxes and clear answers — it will also liberate others to know that their questions are valid.

Second, because I’m not so sure there is a “right” theology of atonement. I am starting to believe each theory of atonement has a way of explaining a piece of the mystery that is the love of God and the death of Jesus on the cross. The poetry of Ransom-Captive is still moving to this day. The victory of Christus Victor is an annual part of my personal celebration of an empty tomb, and I’m not sure I could understand the resurrection without it. I believe Christ’s death is an example of what self-sacrificial living looks like, just as the moral exemplar theory explains. I believe the mystery of the incarnation is that Jesus came to stand in solidarity with all humanity. And even though we are living toward the end of the age of penal substitutionary atonement — a theory I believe has run its course and has led to some horribly destructive theology — I believe there is good truth in the theory and history will look back on it and its ability to communicate great theology when used correctly.

Third, I believe the above paragraph to be true because the book of Hebrews, the book on atonement, seems to portray all of those theories, as well. Hebrews says early in the letter that Christ offered his life as a ransom (Ransom-Captive). It speaks of Jesus triumphing over death and scorning the shame of the cross (Christus Victor). It speaks of Jesus serving as our example, showing us how to suffer so we might be brought to glory (moral exemplar). It speaks of God offering His Son for our sin (penal substitutionary atonement). It references multiple times the idea that Christ would join humanity in our suffering, being tempted in every way, and experiencing our humanity so he could serve as our great High Priest (solidarity). Finally, the book of Hebrews is consistent with its use of scapegoat theory and the idea, over and over again, that the sacrifice of Jesus is able to clean our conscience — something the blood of bulls and goats could never do.

We may spend the rest of our lives trying to understand the mystery of atonement and God’s love for us, in spite of our sin. But I’m not sure that would be all that bad.