as long-standing dogma. The early church never heard of this; at best they had
some idea of “ransom” from the many biblical metaphors.
Until we see this explanation of why Jesus had to die for what it is and what it
isn’t, we’ll struggle to liberate our notions of both Christ and Jesus and to see
them as a revelation of the infinite love of the Trinity, not some bloody
transaction “required” by God’s offended justice in order to rectify the problem
of human sin.
In this chapter, I hope to address how our commonly accepted atonement
theory—especially as accomplished through the life, suffering, and death of
Jesus—led to some serious misunderstandings of Jesus’s role and Christ’s eternal
purpose, reaffirmed our narrow notion of retributive justice, and legitimated a
notion of “good and necessary violence” all the way down. I take up this subject
with both excitement and trepidation because I know the theory of
substitutionary atonement is central to the faith of many. But the questions of
why Jesus died and what is the meaning and message of his death have
dominated the recent Christian narrative, often much more than his life and
teaching. As some have said, if this theory is true, all we needed was the last
three days or even three hours of Jesus’s life. In my opinion, this interpretation
has kept us from a deep and truly transformative understanding of both Jesus
and Christ. Salvation became a one-time transactional affair between Jesus and
his Father, instead of an ongoing transformational lesson for the human soul
and for all of history.
At best, the theory of substitutionary atonement has inoculated us against the
true effects of the Gospel, causing us to largely “thank” Jesus instead of honestly
imitating him. At worst, it led us to see God as a cold, brutal figure, who
demands acts of violence before God can love his own creation. Now, there is
no doubt that both Testaments are filled with metaphors of atonement, sacrifice,
expiation, ransom, paying the price, opening the gates, et cetera. But these are
common temple metaphors that would’ve made sense to a Jewish audience.
Anthropologically speaking, these words and assumptions reflect a magical or
what I call “transactional” way of thinking. By that I mean that if you just
believe the right thing, say the right prayer, or practice the right ritual, things
will go right for you in the divine courtroom. In my experience, this way of
thinking loses its power as people and cultures grow up and seek actual changes
in their minds and hearts. Then, transformational thinking tends to supplant
transactional thinking.
As I wrote earlier, Christianity’s vision of God was a radical departure from