The Cross as an Icon of the Father’s Love and Compassion

A participatory-substitutionary understanding of the atonement, through the lens of the munus triplex and the role of blood

This essay challenges a satisfactory or propitiatory understanding of the atonement which, it will show, would amount only to an ‘exclusive’, human act – one of appeasement (the human Jesus effecting something for us, and then only afterwards do we benefit from it). In contrast, this essay demonstrates an ‘inclusive’ divine-human event, a participatory substitutionary atonement, which brings two aspects together into one simultaneous act: Jesus does something both ‘for us’ or ‘on our behalf’ (substitution) and at the same time ‘with us’ (participation). By looking at the wider work of Christ through the munus triplex and the role of blood, the essay advances a biblically wholistic understanding of the atonement.

From Exodus 34: 

Then the Lord came down in the cloud and stood there with him and proclaimed his name, the Lord. And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.

From Luke 15:

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

 Introduction

 In recent months, two events have reminded me of Christ’s key purpose of revealing the Father. The first event was a book launch – the new title was a commentary on the Gospel of John. In the personal dedication, the author signed my copy with the Greek text ἐκεῖνος ἐξηγήσατο from John 1:18: ‘No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known’ [who has declared or displayed him]. The Son was sent by the Father to reveal or display the Father’s love – this is Jesus’ core message. The mission of the Son is to bring the prodigals ‘Home’ to the Father. It is through the Son’s person and work that we share in the filial relationship of the Son – he alone is our ‘Way Home’, and only by being grafted into the Son by the Spirit, can we partake in the event of our own ‘Homecoming’. Only through our adoption by the Spirit, are we made children of God and can we address God, in union with Christ, as ‘Abba, Father’. We also find this Father-Son relationship woven throughout the narratives of the Torah, where YHWH raises his son, Israel. To see God as a compassionate Father (2 Cor 1:3) is central to the Jewish faith, especially on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) with the reciting of the Jewish prayer Avinu Malkeinu – “Our Father, our King”.

The second event occurred during a time of sung worship at a recent college residential, where I was struck once again about what we sing about the Father’s love and how it is so often misaligned with our spoken or written theologies of the cross. That afternoon, we were singing a song about God as our ‘good, good Father’. In fact, I often perceive a real disconnect between our worship and our theology. Has Jesus’ message of the Kingdom of God, that we are no longer slaves of fear, but are children of God – a message at the centre of so many of our choruses – really sunk into our hearts and minds? Do we really know God as Father in a personal sense or only as an abstract ‘theological’ concept? When we ‘do’ theology, are we aware that we are embraced by the loving arms of the Father?

My theological starting point is ‘God as Emmanuel’; for me, the Good News is that ‘God is with us’ and does not leave us alone. Jesus reiterates this throughout the Gospels: everything he does, he emphasises is the Father’s work through him (“he who sees me, sees the Father”). If we believe this Gospel truth, then this must also particularly be the case on the cross, as it is here where we see the very essence of who God is, in his self-giving or self-sacrificing love – the cross as an icon, a window to the divine.

If this Gospel truth – that the Father is the core message of Jesus’ Good News – has penetrated our very being, then this deep understanding of the Father will be reflected in both our worship and our theologies of the cross. God is a compassionate and patient (long-suffering!) Father in terms of forgiving both our sinful actions as well as the way we relate to and treat his Son. This notion of the love between Father and Son needs to be reflected in our doctrines on the atonement. So as we sung about our ‘Good, good Father’ a few weeks ago, I was prompted to pause again and think what hope there is for us, if in his darkest hour the Son is actually abandoned by this ‘good’ Father. This essay argues that the notions of ‘punishment’ and ‘abandonment’ cannot lie at the heart of the atonement because were this the case, they would drive a wedge between the Father and Son, shattering the bond of love and peace of the Spirit, fracturing the homoousion, and therefore rupturing God’s very trinitarian being.

Some preliminary thoughts on ‘satisfaction’ and ‘propitiation’

In many sermons on the cross, the atonement has been (and is still often) preached as being a satisfactory [1] or propitiatory [2] sin-offering, the sinless Son of God dying instead of humanity. However, if the death on the cross is understood in a satisfactory way – i.e. the death is seen as a satisfactory sacrifice in which Jesus pays a debt which is owed to God by sinful humanity – then what does this say about the Father? Does the Father require satisfaction to restore his honour? In a similar vein, Christ’s death is often interpreted as a propitiatory sacrifice; one through which the ‘wrath of the Father’ was appeased or placated, effecting a conciliatory response from the Father towards sinful humanity. Both interpretations highlight not only that all humans are sinners and under the judgment of God, as God can neither ignore sin nor simply forgive repentant sinners, but also assume that God’s righteousness demands a penalty (since sin dishonours God, the only treatment the sinner deserves is death). The only way salvation is possible for a sinner is within the context of God’s honour being restored (satisfaction) or reparations being made for God to gain justice (propitiation).

This, therefore, concludes that the Father can only turn to sinful humanity in mercy after his righteousness has been justified. But since no human can achieve this perfection, the sinless Son of God himself becomes the instrument of this perfection, by giving himself as the sacrifice. With his bloody death on the cross the ‘wrath of the Father’ is appeased [3] and, showing mercy to the sinner, the Father can be reconciled to humankind.

However, as I will show, the cross is not the Father’s ‘righteous vengeance’ against humanity.[4] Some of these interpretations of the atonement appear to resemble the Greco-Roman principle of do ut des: I (human) give, that you (God) give to me. In this interpretation, the sinner offers the deity a sacrifice in order to effect a change of mood – from anger to mercy.

Some of these misunderstandings of the atonement seem to stem from an overemphasis on the legal language (cf. court room setting) with regard to justification (justification here is understood as a legal term) and a neglect of the cultic setting of the atonement. The problem with a penal substitutionary understanding of the atonement is its underlying notion that God ‘needs’ to punish or condemn either us or Jesus in order to save us. But this is a false dichotomy. In fact what needs to be condemned is sin in the flesh (Rom 8:3), the alien and oppressive power that enslaves us! Jesus is not simply ‘substituted’ like a football player (replacing the person).

Nevertheless the question remains: how exactly can and does God condemn sin, when it resides within a person? How can God ‘remove’ sin without destroying the sinner altogether? The answer, we will see, is ‘spiritual circumcision’ (Col 2).

We will see that Jesus does not simply take ‘my place’, but rather he does something with us (participation) in our place (substitution), within our very existence (Gal 4:4). Jesus’ death is a death that he dies on behalf of us and for us – something that you and I cannot do – taking us out from the dominion of darkness and bringing us through a holy and sanctifying death (fulfilling the Law’s commandments) into his marvellous light. God’s death in Christ is therefore different to our death, because Jesus is fully God and fully human. By participating in Christ’s death (the death that conquers ‘Death’) we die and are raised with him to new life. As Paul writes: I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Gal 2:20). The I dies: our former, sinful self ceases to exist and we are trans-formed from one existence into a new existence. So Christ’s death needs to be understood as a ‘substitution of our entire existence’.[5] Jesus’ conquering of sin and death shows that even death, the last enemy, has no power over God and cannot ‘destroy’ Jesus.

So rather than seeing the cross through a legal lens, we need to focus on the cultic world of ancient Israel. This cultic framework places a much greater emphasis on God’s holiness and explains the need for a substitutionary sacrifice and the notion of participation – the person’s own involvement in it. When seen through the lens of the cultic framework, sin – or rather sinful humanity – is the problem, as a holy God cannot be in a covenant relationship with an unholy people. What needs to change is our very existence, our being. Here it is also important to differentiate between God’s dealing with Israel’s sins in and outside the cultic setting. The language of ‘punishment’ is completely absent in the cultic setting. This does not mean that God doesn’t chastise Israel when Israel is rebellious and offers sacrifices without true repentance (shuv– turning away from sin). But my wider point is that we must recognise God’s mercy in chastisement.

Furthermore, in the West, soteriology often ends up being separated into objective (Christological) and subjective (pneumatological) categories. Thus, another key question is the role of the Holy Spirit in the atonement. There are not only two actors involved in the cross – Father and Son – but also the mystical dimension of the Spirit, I would argue, is often ignored and neglected. We understand the Father, who sends the Son, and we understand the Son who dies on the cross. But what is less obvious is the role of the Holy Spirit in the atonement. The Spirit is the bond of love and peace, the invisible ‘force’ of God at work. It is by the power of the Spirit that Christ was incarnate, lived a life in full obedience of the Father’s will and was raised from the dead. And so too is the Spirit fully present in the crucifixion: it is by the Spirit that the Son offers his life to the Father (Heb. 9:14), and it is by the Spirit, who joins us to Christ, that we can be grafted into the Christ-event, and participate in the death and resurrection of Christ (Rom. 6:3-8).

An important question to address is whether on the cross Jesus is the ‘object’ of the Father’s wrath or instead an active agent, i.e. the ‘subject’, in the event of the atonement.

I.              Pauline atonement

The view of the atonement that Jesus is a satisfactory or propitiatory sin-offering therefore arguably drives a wedge between the Father and the Son, and is fundamentally non-Pauline and unbiblical. The primary reasoning behind this argument is its separation of God’s righteousness from God’s mercy; to argue that God’s righteousness punishes, and God’s mercy comes only when the sinfulness has been punished, is to argue that these two aspects of God are fundamentally discrete.

The argument is further threatened by the perceived hostility between God and humanity. Human sin is linked to the wrath of God (Rom 2:5; John 3:36; 1 Thess 1:10), and it is clear (according to Romans 5:10) that the people for whom God is accomplishing the act of self-sacrifice are ‘enemies’. Yet the word ‘enemy’ here has an active meaning, characterizing the one requiring reconciliation, as it pertains to enmity against God, created and demonstrated by disobedience against God’s will. Paul uses the term ‘enemies’ to indicate the essence of being a sinner as being in rebellion against God and therefore cut off from God. Paul never talks about any sort of hostility from God against the sinner. There is also no causal relation between sin and enmity as in the Tun-Ergehen-Zusammenhang (the deed-consequence connection or the relation between human action and divine reaction), but rather an ontological relation – the enmity of the sinner against God should be understood as the very being of the sinner’s existence.[6] The problem is not God, but humanity.

Many statements made about ‘God’s wrath’ disallow such an interpretation, ignoring the fact that the wrath of God is not an emotion [7] but rather an objective fact – it is the coming of the eschatological Day of Judgement, [8] which will condemn the ones to death who, despite Christ’s saving work, continued to live their lives as enemies of God (Rom 2:8; 1 Thess 1:10; John 3:36; Mt 25). Here it is important to differentiate between God’s dealing with his covenant community and their sins, and those who are outside, who sin and even bring evil, torture, and death on the covenant community and the wider world (see 1 Thess 2:14-16). God’s wrath is still imminent for the person who is not in Christ. Ultimately, we also need to remember here that it is the Son who is the judge at this Day of Judgement, and not the Father (see John 5:22 and Revelation 6:16).

Scripture talks of an eschatological (new) creation that will occur for everybody who is in Christ, dispelling the old, sinful existence (2 Cor 5:17). Paul makes clear that this is exclusively the work of God as well as his gift to humanity (2 Cor 5:18-19). The active subject of this reconciliation is therefore solely God Himself – in fact it is God in Christ. On the cross, God has reconciled the sinner, who is in a state of enmity against Him, with Himself. Through the cross God has annulled the enmity of humankind, its rebellion, and placed humankind into a right relation with Him, that is, peace (Rom 5:1). Reconciliation is therefore a complete annulment of the negative relationship that dictated the existence of the sinner before God, rather than any shift or change in the existing relationship between God and humanity.[9] The Pauline expressions are clear – the only subject of this reconciliation is God Himself, and the only object, sinful humanity. Paul never states that God was reconciled with or to the world, nor does he state that Christ has reconciled God with us. Furthermore, Paul does not imply anything about a change of God’s opinion or mood – he sees this reconciliation originating only and exclusively in the love of God (Rom 5:8). Hence the reconciliation can be seen neither as ‘the end of the Father’s wrath’ nor the ‘gift of God who was angry until then’.[10]

As already mentioned, the outcome of the gift of reconciliation in Christ is the salvation from the coming Day of Judgement and a share in the triune life. Through participation in Christ’s substitutionary death and resurrection in baptism, a person shares in the new resurrection life by the power of the Spirit (Romans 6:3-8). The sinner is taken from the dominion of sin and death, and placed in the sphere of God’s righteousness and peace – God’s holiness. Christ’s death must therefore be understood as both a substitutionary as well a participatory atonement, or rather an ‘inclusive place-taking’ (something is happening to us!) on our behalf: a coming-to-God through Christ’s sanctifying and purifying death on the cross, which annuls all enmity and gives humanity a share in the divine sonship. So rather than an ‘exclusive’ atonement, in which ‘Christ took the place of the sinners and thereby took our sins upon himself so that they no longer rested upon us’,[11] I would define participatory substitution as an ‘inclusive’ event, in which Christ does something  ‘in our place with us’.

If the crucifixion is understood as a satisfactory or propitiatory sacrifice it cannot be seen as an act of salvation, but rather as a human act, a presupposition for God’s salvation on which basis God can now follow by allowing reconciliation. It would also be a sacrifice to God and we would be unable to recognise that it was God himself who died there and then. Arguably, to understand the atonement in terms of the ‘mercy’ of the Son appeasing the ‘wrathfulness’ of the Father creates not only a wedge within the Trinity but a type of tritheism (three distinct gods). Furthermore, if we affirm that God’s actions (economy) reveal his being (ontology) and vice versa, then this particular tritheism risks making ‘wrathfulness’, like ‘love’, a part of God’s very being. And yet since God is love (Rom 5:8) and Jesus reveals the Father’s love, God meets us not when we meet certain conditions, but when we are at our worst, so to speak. Thus, there is no Deus absconditus – a God behind the Son – but instead on the cross, the Son perfectly reveals the Father.

Thus, since the Son and the Father are one in the bond of the Spirit, the act of reconciliation on the cross is a godly act for us, God’s own act – occurring out of love (Rom 5:8). Because God was present in the crucified one, the death of Christ is therefore not merely the medium of reconciliation – in fact the execution is not only the enabling but the realisation of the act.[12] Therefore, it is not the do ut des principle that is applied on the cross, but the Jewish-Christian principle of Tu solus omina dedisti – you (God) alone have given everything.[13] As Paul states 2 Corinthians 5:18: ‘All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation’.

So in our sermons on the cross, we need to preach in a pastorally-sensitive way and always remember that we are both victims and doers of sin – we are utterly helpless, trapped in a vicious cycle of sin. This needs careful pastoral attention. Ultimately, God’s desire is to have fellowship and dwell among his people. But sin poses a problem for a holy God who also desires to be fully present. Atonement is therefore necessary to ‘wipe away’ sin so that God can come and be present. As my old pastor used to say: “If a baby has a full nappy and cries, you are not angry at the baby – you take the dirty nappy off and wipe the baby clean.”

Only Christ, through his substitutionary death, can take away our sinful nature and give us a new one through our participation in his death and resurrection; this is something you and I simply cannot do. We cannot be born from above (John 3) through our own efforts; only God can do this. And he has done this in Christ (2 Cor 5:17). Christ frees us from this cycle not by taking the punishment we deserve but by breaking the power of sin and death – by living a life in total obedience to the Father’s will. Christ fulfils the Law by his perfect and holy life. On the cross, Paul writes, Christ, condemned sin in the flesh (Rom 8:3), so that the righteous requirement of the Law is fully met. Christ lives our life, he lives for us, and everything he does – incarnation, baptism, life, death, resurrection, ascension and the sending of the Spirit – is done on our behalf and for us. By his holy life he fulfils the Law and all commandments, and in baptism, we participate in his death and resurrection, and share in his new resurrection life.

II.            The atoning work of Christ and the role of Blood

A key question remains then: could God simply forgive sin without satisfaction being paid, without propitiation made, and without any sort of punishment? This, I would argue is the very essence of divine forgiveness! Christ’s prayer on the cross is simply ‘Father forgive!’ Why, then, was it necessary for the Son of God to come and die on the cross and shed his blood? The answer lies with the human predicament, our inability to change. Luther’s understanding of the human condition as incurvatus in se is a helpful picture here. We are curved in on ourselves and consequently cannot change our situation – i.e. we cannot change and become a new creation in union with God no matter how hard we try.

The use of blood in the Levitical sacrifice on the Day of Atonement helps us to understand why Christ had to shed his blood. Blood in the cultic setting is seen as the seat of life (Lev 17:11), which is brought on behalf of the Israelites by the High Priest into the presence of God in the Holy of Holies and sprinkled on the mercy-seat (the place of divine reconciliation).[14] Through the act of identification, the laying on of hands by the High Priest (who represents all of Israel) on the animal, it is Israel’s life that is brought to God.[15] Thus the central aspect of the atonement is our coming to God through death.[16] What is effected in this identification is a bond between the High Priest and the animal. The animal dies physically for the people and the people participate spiritually in the animal’s death. The Hebrew verb that is used in the cultic texts that speak of substitution is tachat, ‘instead of’, which can also be translated with ‘below’ or ‘underneath’. Israel’s life is ‘laid’ on the animal and in this way ‘bears’ or ‘carries’ the whole nation. The death of the animal, who is ‘underneath’, becomes the sinner’s own death, taken over in substitution by the sacrificial animal.[17] And so when the animal is sacrificed and its blood (which represents life in purest and most vulnerable form) is brought into the Holy of Holies, it takes the life of the whole nation through death into the life-giving and reconciling presence of God.[18]

In the same way, by shedding his blood, Christ offers his life to the Father (Heb 9:14). Through his identification with us and ours with his (by faith) we are inextricably tied to him, our life is hidden in Christ (Col 3:3), taken into death, brought to the Father, and taken into new life.[19] The cross therefore encompasses a physical substitution and a spiritual participation: our sin-enslaved existence is killed with him and we are raised with Christ (Rom 4:25). If God would simply forgive us our sins it would not ‘change’ us: we would remain stuck in our sinful nature and we would continue to sin. The same logic applies to the resurrection. Without the resurrection, Jesus’ death would not benefit us as our sins would be forgiven, but we would have no access to new life. According to Paul, it is us – we are the problem, we need to be made new and change. So Christ had to die ‘for us’ to make us new. But for this to be a reality for us it needs to be ‘applied’ to us, and we need to participate in it in order to change us. Christ’s sacrifice has achieved that for us and has brought us to the Father. As 2 Cor 5:17 states: ‘Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here.'

Once again: rather than an ‘exclusive’ atonement (Christ taking the place of the sinner and taking our sins upon himself) the cross is an ‘inclusive’ event, a participatory substitution, in which Christ does something ‘in our place with us’. We are embraced by the Son, who is embraced by the Father, and in this way, we are taken into the Son’s embrace of the Father and embraced ourselves by God.

Christ’s death to the Law (Gal 2:19) has determined the predicament of sin (human enslavement), as the one who has died is free from sin and the Law (Rom 7:4-6). The atonement is all about a change of ownership: from the dominion of darkness to the kingdom of light. Christ’s substitution is the death he died for us as we cannot die this holy death alone. The inclusive element is our participation by the Spirit, the living presence of God, which is mediated and activated in us. In this way, the Son and the Spirit are, as Irenaeus put it, the two hands of the Father which bring about humanity’s salvation.

To understand more fully the depth of Christ’s atoning work in his life, death, resurrection and ascension, let us take a closer look at the person and work of Christ through the lens of the munus triplex and the role of blood in the atonement.

(a)  Three offices of Christ

John Calvin’s doctrine of the three offices of Christ (munus triplex) offers some assistance in keeping our understanding of the atonement broad and inclusive. Calvin highlights that Christ acts as our prophet, priest, and king. In his doctrine of the three offices, Calvin includes the teaching of Jesus, his sacrificial death, and his kingly rule. Atonement, or at-one-ment, encompasses all of what Christ did on behalf of humanity, and does not single out the death. Karl Barth, in his elaborate doctrine of reconciliation (CD IV.1), also makes use of the idea of the three offices of Christ, imaginatively weaving them together with the classical doctrines of the two natures (divinity and humanity). Here we also see the simultaneity in the person and work of Christ – his two states occurring together (humiliation and exaltation). For Barth, ‘God’s Humility’, rather than wrath, is key to the doctrine of the atonement. This yields the themes of ‘The Lord as Servant’ (God in Jesus Christ acts humbly as our priest, redeeming us from our sin of pride), ‘The Servant as Lord’ (humanity in Jesus Christ is exalted by grace to royal partnership with God, liberating us from our sin of sloth), and ‘The True Witness’ (the union of God and humanity in Jesus Christ is radiant truth, carrying its own prophetic power and dispelling our sin of falsehood).

(b)  Padah, Kipper, and Goel – Redemption

 We can link the three offices of Christ to three Old Testament concepts of redemption: (1) padah, (2) kipper, and (3) go’el, each speaking of different aspects of redemption.

(1) Padah redemption is the active obedience of the kingly office, which stresses the dramatic aspect of God’s intervention and rescue, emphasising the nature of the redeeming act: out of the judgment of God or out of an alien and repressive power, which for its part is brought under the judgement of God (see Egypt). It highlights the cost of redemption, namely that it always involves a sacrifice, a substitutionary offering, involving the idea of a life for a life. It represents simultaneous deliverance out of both alien oppression and from guilt and punishment.

(2) Kipper redemption is the obedience of the priestly office, Christ becoming an expiatory sin-offering for us, a concept of redemption that stresses the cultic aspect of holiness – the restoration of fellowship and union with a holy God. God is the subject here for it is he who atones; even though it is the priest who carries out the atonement and expiates the sins by the blood of the sacrifice, he does it in the presence of God who appointed him to do so. So redemption is rooted in the covenant will of God.

(3) Go’el redemption is the incarnational assumption of the prophetic office, which stresses the nature of the redeemer and our kinship with him. It is the concept of redemption out of bondage by an advocate or a kinsman who is bound to the person in need. The Hebrew noun go’el describes the vindicator (the redeemer) and it is normally the next of kin (see the story of Ruth and Boaz) who takes this title. In the Old Testament it is God who delivers the Israelites out of the bondage of Egypt and out of the captivity of Babylon and the Hebrew writers are clear that it is none other than God who can be the go’el from death and judgment (see Is 52:9).

(c) The role of blood

These three concepts of redemption can also be linked to the various uses of blood, which highlights an important aspect in the light of Christ’s death:

(1)  Padah redemption is seen in the Passah-meal and the cost of the slain lamb. Here, blood protects the Israelites from the ‘angel of death’.

(2)  Kipper redemption highlights the cleansing power of blood, seen in the Levitical sin-offerings. A better translation is actually purification-offerings.

(3)  Go’el redemption is best seen in the covenant sacrifice in Exodus, where blood is sprinkled over the people and on the altar, highlighting the bond created. So here blood binds the people to God in the blood of the covenant.

All three strands of redemption (Go’el, Kipper, and Padah) and the usage of blood (protecting, cleansing, and binding) converge in Jesus on the cross. In the New Testament it is Jesus who is our kinsman-redeemer and our advocate – we are purchased by his blood. It is Jesus who is not only our High-Priest but also the offering, and it is through his blood that our sins are washed away and we are being cleansed. And it is also through Jesus’ victory on the cross over death and sin, his divine rescue mission, that we are saved, to live now under the protection of his blood.

Concluding thoughts

Christ dies as our mediator, as fully God and fully human, and therefore his death should not be seen in terms of punishment, but as a holy one – a sanctifying and purifying death that leads us into the presence of a holy God. Christ’s shedding of blood is therefore not a presupposition for God’s salvation on which basis God can now follow by allowing reconciliation. Rather, Christ’s blood is salvation and protection, purification, and our bond to God. Blood is the life of Christ, who has his source in the triune life. By receiving Christ’s blood in the Eucharist, we share in the divine life. We are joined with him and so his righteousness becomes our righteousness by participating in his own life – he dwells in us and we in him. We share in his sonship as adopted children. In him we die to sin and the Law’s requirements are fulfilled. Outside Christ, no mortal can get to the Father, but Christ has opened the way to the compassionate Father on the cross – the new mercy-seat [20] (Rom 3:25) – who sends the Son not just for our redemption but who is our redemption. Christ does not just show us the way to the Father – he is the way to the Father; it is through and in him that the prodigals are being brought by the Spirit into the Father’s compassionate embrace!

In this essay I have advocated for an ‘inclusive’ act on the cross – something happens to us, and we are changed in the act itself, not just afterwards. A satisfactory or propitiatory sacrifice would amount to an ‘exclusive’, human act – one of appeasement (the human Jesus, the object of the Father, effects something for us, and then only afterwards do we benefit from it through union with Christ). In contrast, substitutionary-participatory atonement brings these two aspects together into one simultaneous act: Jesus is the active subject in the event of the atonement. He does something on our behalf (substitution) and at the same time with us (participation). The cross is therefore an ongoing-event (actualistic ontology) and we participate in the Christ-event through the Spirit. The cross is the eternal mercy-seat (Rev 13:8) and it is here that we become a new creation. Equally, the OT sacrifices receive their meaning and expiatory power in Christ’s death as well. This means that we really die with Christ in 30 AD. Our new birth by the Spirit (John 3) transcends time and space – that’s the real mystery! Put differently, by the Spirit, God in Christ places us into the story of Jesus, and so Jesus’ time and existence become our time and existence, just as his crucifixion is ours too. This also means that his resurrection has become our resurrection. ‘Being in Christ’ means that we become a new creation, set free from sin and all the evil powers that had enslaved our human condition.

‘Dying in Christ’ in the ritual of baptism is not just a metaphor or a helpful analogy, but a reality – our inclusion in Christ’s death! And this impossibility – participation in the death of somebody else who died 2000 years ago – only becomes a possibility through Christ the mediator, in whose incarnation the divine and human nature are joined, and past, present, and future are held together. I cannot participate in somebody else’s death and neither is the vice versa possible. Nor is my death a living-giving one – it does not achieve anything. Only the death of the Son of God, the God-human, our Alpha and Omega, can achieve the impossible, being as he is the Emmanuel, the God with us, on both sides of death. It is only Christ’s physical substitution, in our very existence, which makes our spiritual participation possible. We said that humanity is a prisoner of sin. But sin is not detachable like a backpack that can be ‘taken off’ the sinner; it is a power that resides within a person – it affects the entire being. Sin is therefore an ontological category – we are sinners, this is our existence, and we need to be made new – re-created. Hence what is required for union with a holy God is the ‘substitution of our entire existence’.

Currently, we live in the tension of the ‘now and not yet’. Christ’s atonement is a spiritual reality for us (2 Cor 4:10-12 and 16-18 and 2 Cor 5:1-5), but it will also be a bodily reality (1 Cor 15:35-58), when we are giving a new ‘spiritual body’.

The Gnadenstuhl (mercy-seat) paintings of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries onwards have become an icon of the work of the Triune God in the atonement. Here we see the pieta of the Father, which depicts the cross not as a place of despair and separation, but as the place of the Father’s mercy, love, and compassion. As the Father embraces the Son, he is not distant – he has not abandoned the Son. Instead, he is close to him in death, and we can rely on the same good, good Father to draw close to us and embrace us too.

I would like to conclude with verses 2-6 of the famous Lutheran hymn ‘Dear Christians, One and All, Rejoice’, a hymn which tells the story of the compassionate God who sends his obedient Son to bring sinful humanity home:

Fast bound in Satan's chains I lay; / death brooded darkly o'er me. / Sin was my torment night and day; / in sin my mother bore me. / Yet deep and deeper still I fell; / life had become a living hell, / so firmly sin possessed me.

 My own good works availed me naught, / no merit they attaining; / my will against God’s judgment fought, / no hope for me remaining. / My fears increased till sheer despair / left only death to be my share / and hell to be my sentence.

But God beheld my wretched state / before the world's foundation, / and, mindful of his mercies great, / he planned for my salvation. / A father’s heart he turned to me, / sought my redemption fervently; / he gave his dearest treasure.

 He spoke to his belovèd Son: / “It's time to have compassion. / Then go, bright jewel of my crown, / and bring to all salvation. / From sin and sorrow set them free; / slay bitter death for them that they / may live with you forever.”

 The Son obeyed his Father’s will, / was born of virgin mother, / and, God’s good pleasure to fulfill, / he came to be my brother. / No garb of pomp or pow’r he wore; / a servant’s form like mine he bore / to lead the devil captive.

About the Author

Revd Dr Matthias Grebe is Lecturer and Tutor at St Mellitus College, London. He is also the associate vicar of St Edward, King and Martyr and the Assistant Director of the St Edward’s Institute for Christian Thought. Matthias undertook doctoral work on Karl Barth under the supervision of Prof. David Ford at the Faculty of Divinity at Cambridge. His revised PhD thesis is published under Election, Atonement, and the Holy Spirit (Oregon: Wipf & Stock, Princeton Theological Monograph series, 2014). He has prevsiouly written the following essays on the atonement: ‘Jesus Christ: Victim or Victor? Revisiting Galatians 3:13 in conversation with Karl Barth and Scripture,’ Communio Viatorum: A Theological Journal (LVII, 2015, III), 240-251, and ‘Suffering, Sin-bearing, and Stellvertretung: Revisiting the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’, in Matthias Grebe (ed.), Polyphonie der Theologie. Verantwortung und Widerstand in Kirche und Politik(Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2019), 175–193.

Notes

[1] Traditionally Anselm (Cur Deus Homo) is considered to be the first theologian to think of soteriology working in this direction, towards God. Although his idea of satisfaction of feudal honour may no longer have direct relevance, the idea of propitiation of sin has been reworked since then. It was developed by Aquinas and then became an important theme for the Reformers, especially Calvin. See also John Stott, The Cross of Christ (Nottingham: Inter-Varsity Press, 2006), who concludes that God must satisfy himself by substituting himself for us or as he calls it: “divine self-satisfaction through divine self-substitution” (188). Therefore, for Stott “the theological words ‘satisfaction’ and ‘substitution’ need to be carefully defined and safeguarded, but they cannot in any circumstances be given up”, 188.

[2] James Denney, The Death of Christ (London: Tyndale Press, 1951).

[3] See Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross (London: Tyndale Press, 1965), 167-170.

[4] Calvin, Institutes 2:16.5.

[5] See Hartmut Gese, ‘The Atonement’, in Essays on Biblical Theology (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1981), 95.

[6] See Otfried Hofius, ‘Erwägungen zur Gestalt und Herkunft des paulinischen Versöhnungsgedanken‘, in Paulusstudien (WUNT, 51; Tübingen: Mohr, 1989), 4.

[7] See Ernst Käsemann, Commentary on Romans (Grand Rapids, Mich: Eerdmans, 1980), 37f.

[8] See Otfried Hofius, ‘Sühne und Versöhnung‘, in Paulusstudien (WUNT, 51; Tübingen: Mohr, 1989), 36.

[9] See Hofius, ‘Versöhnungsgedanken‘, 4.

[10] See Ernst Käsemann, ‘Erwägungen zum Stichwort „Versöhnungslehre im Neuen Testament“‘, in Zeit und Geschichte, FS Rudolf Bultmann, (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1964, 47-59), 48ff.

[11] Simon Gathercole, Defending Substitution: An Essay on Atonement in Paul (Michigan: Baker Press, 2015), 16.

[12] See Hofius, ‘Sühne und Versöhnung‘, 39.

[13] See Bernd Janowski, Sühne als Heilsgeschehen: Traditions- und Religionsgeschichtliche Studien zur Sühnetheologie der Priesterschrift (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2000), 247.

[14] See Gese, ‘The Atonement’, 113.

[15] See Gese, ‘The Atonement’, 105.

[16] See Gese, ‘The Atonement’, 114.

[17] See Janowksi, Sühne als Heilsgeschehen, 359.

[18] See Gese, ‘The Atonement’, 106.

[19] See Hofius, ‘Sühne und Versöhnung‘, 47.

[20] Along with Peter Stuhlmacher, Reconciliation, Law, & Righteousness: Essays in Biblical Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), I see the ‘mercy-seat’ in the light of the cultic atonement in Leviticus 16 and not against the Hellenistic background of 4 Maccabees 17:20-22. See also Gese, ‘The Atonement’, 115.