He Will Never Fail To Succor His People

Writing of the Garden of Gethsemane, Matthew tells us that Jesus took some of his disciples with him, but "went a little beyond them, and fell on his face" (Matthew 26:39). That's a useful metaphor of how we can share in Jesus' suffering in some ways, but not fully, how there are significant differences between our suffering and his.

Death for Life

I have often heard the charge from atheists that the idea of divine justice requiring the death of Christ in order for us to be saved is simply a ludicrous belief to hold to. Of course, this conundrum isn't limited to atheists as there are many non-Christian theists (and even some who call themselves Christian) who have issues with substitutionary atonement as well, but I am most familiar with the atheist objections given the circles that I run in. Regardless of who makes the complaint, the objection seems to boil down to the fact that it seems to be illogical for someone to gain eternal life at the expense of the life of an innocent person.

What has struck me is that not only is it not illogical to have this understanding, but it's actually the way things already are in our everyday life. Recently, I've been in some discussions regarding diet. Specifically, I had surgery on my feet back in November, and through the recovery process I need to maintain a lot better control over blood sugar levels in my diet. As a result of this need, the wound care clinic that provides the post-op care required me to attend a diabetes nutrition class. Ironically enough, the dietitian in that class came to the conclusion that I need to eat even more carbohydrates. In fact, she recommended that I have upwards of 250 grams per day. I think anyone who's ever had to control their blood sugar ought to realize just how ridiculous following that advice would be. (Incidentally, I usually maintain around 50 grams of carbohydrates per day and still have fasting blood sugars that are a tad higher than they want.)

Anyway, the point is that I've been thinking about diet lately, so it was natural for my brain to consider that topic when I thought about the objection that penal substitution makes no sense. I made a simple observation, one that is obvious, but which most of us do not think about. That is, whether you are consuming meat products or vegetable products, you are eating things that were, at one point, alive.

We do not consume inanimate objects, like dirt. Our food is the product of living beings. And it's not just byproducts—some of which we can eat (e.g., milk, honey, fruit, etc.), but none of which provide enough nutrients on their own to sustain life. To live, we need to eat animals and entire plants, killing those creatures in the process.

In other words, to consider that eternal life requires the sacrifice of an eternal living Person is somehow incomprehensible is to ignore the fact that our mortal life already requires the sacrifice of mortal beings. We live every day because animals and plants have died. It didn't have to be this way. Plants, after all, can use photosynthesis and get their energy directly from the sun. In that aspect, there's no reason why God couldn't have created human beings, and even all other animals, with photosynthesis. So I have to think that the very fact that we consume plants and animals was already meant as a picture for us of the coming sacrifice Christ would make on our behalf as well.

Which, as a further thought exercise for the future, might also have some bearing on the supralapsarian vs. infralapsarian debate too. I leave that thought exercise up to the reader.

Collective guilt

One objection to original sin is that it seems unfair to be blamed for something we didn't do. Sometimes that spills over into a parallel objection to vicarious atonement and penal substitution. I've discussed these objections from various angles over the years. But here's another consideration. 

Many cultures take collective guilt for granted. One people-group will continue to b lame another people-group for what that group or a particular representative of that group did in the past. For instance, when Ali lost the battle for succession after Muhammad died, that fomented a blood feud which continues right up to our own time. 

Likewise, the Greek Orthodox have never forgiven Roman Catholics for the Fourth Crusade. By the same token, it wouldn't surprise me if many Chinese and Koreans still hold a historical grudge against wars of aggression that Japan used to wage against her neighbors. I'm sure we could give example after example. 

Now my point is not that I think this in itself justifies the principle of collective guilt. I'd also add that collective guilt is not a general principle in scripture. The examples of Adam and Jesus are exceptional. 

My point, rather, is that whether or not collective guilt seems to be unfair is culturally-variable. In many cultures there's a powerful sense of solidarity between members of the same people-group which extends from the present into past generations, living and dead.  

And that raises the question of which is right. Is the sense of unfairness that some people feel a legitimate moral intuition or is it just the product of social conditioning in their particular culture? When two different cultures have competing sensibilities on this issue, what's the tiebreaker? 

This is why I'm inclined to be both a moral skeptic and a moral realism. That's a consistent position because moral skepticism concerns moral epistemology while moral realism concerns moral ontology. There are moral facts, but how well do we access them?

The question is the extent to which I should trust my moral intuitions. If I was born in a different culture, I might well have some radically different moral intuitions. This is one reason we need divine revelation: to reaffirm true moral intuitions and disaffirm false moral intuitions. 

Christ the plague-bearer

I'd like to expand on the plague metaphor in Isa 53, which this post accentuates:

http://www.therecapitulator.com/leviticus-leprosy-and-lent-in-the-light-of-the-corona-virus-crisis-part-4/

Metaphors, including theological metaphors, are so familiar that they often bounce right off of us. We don't take the time to visualize the metaphor. Yet metaphors can function as compact picturesque stories, and with regard to theological metaphors it is useful to step into the world of the metaphor and look around. Appreciate the surroundings. That's a way to deepen our appreciation of the metaphor and what it represents. 

Plague and pestilence were real horrors in the ancient world. That's what lends potency and sting to Isaiah's use of the image. He depicts Messiah as the vicarious plague-bearer. 

There are different ways we can imaginatively develop this metaphor. For instance, you might imagine a healer who can touch a plague victim and transfer the pathogen from the victim to himself. Once inside himself, the pathogen is destroyed by the healer's supernatural immune system.

Or you might imagine a virulent, highly contagious plague for which there's no natural resistance, much less immunity. It threatenes to wipe out the entire human race.

But there's one human being with a beneficial genetic mutation. If infected, it triggers his immune system. He develops antibodies that destroy the pathogen. And transfusions of his blood heal the sick and dying. 

Infection makes him sick. He suffers from the same painful debilitating symptoms. But his body is able to counterattack and create an antidote.

One way of telling the story is that his antibodies can be replicated and multiplied. Another way of telling the story is that after his blood cures a patient, transfusions of their blood cure patients. 

Although this is figurative, I once read about an Eskimo woman who was a healer. Not a witchdoctor. She was Christian. It's possible that her healing ability derived from pagan ancestors, but if so, it was co-oped and sanctified in her use. 

She could't raise the dead, restore the blind, or instantly heal broken bodies. But she could absorb pain. She should extract pain and take it into herself, where it would dissipate. 

Although I wouldn't swear by it, this was reported by an anthropologist who lived with villagers for a year. Based on firsthand observation. Turner, Edith. The Hands Feel It (Northern Illinois U. Press 1996).

The point is that when we think about vicarious atonement and penal substitution, one illustration is a plague-bearer. Jesus transfers the plague to himself. He extracts the plague, absorbs the plague, and destroys the plague in himself. 

A related illustration: we are cleansed by his blood transfusion. He transfers to us his antibodies.

It's important not to press the metaphor and confuse the metaphor with the reality which it was meant to illustrate. But abstractions have limitations, too. Scripture often uses disease figuratively. So it's instructive to mentally explore that.  

Christ became infected to cure us

http://www.therecapitulator.com/leviticus-leprosy-and-lent-in-the-light-of-the-corona-virus-crisis-part-4/

Is King David an argument for purgatory?

Here's a Catholic argument for Purgatory:

https://www.firstthings.com/article/2011/11/is-purgatory-biblical

Several problems:

i) I think there's a bait-n-switch. To my knowledge, the traditional Catholic rationale for purgatory isn't the need for postmortem sanctification. It's not about remedial punishment but retributive punishment for the guilt of temporal sin. In addition, there's a role for human merit. So the framework is forensic rather than therapeutic.  

ii) In the case of King David, the issue is complicated by the fact that he was abusing his power as head-of-state. He was wronging other people. To keep him from becoming a tyrant, God punishes him. At best, we could only extrapolate from that case to analogous examples.

It's inapplicable to purgatory because in purgatory you're no longer in a position to wrong or harm others. 

iii) It also depends on what we mean by punishment. In David's case, it's not that God meted out direct, positive punishment. Rather, God withdrew some of his protection from David so that David was now liable to palace intrigue and sedition from members of his own family. 

Again, though, that's hardly analogous to purgatory punishments. 

In the same article, Prof. Anderson says:

The final move is one in which these merits are potentially transferable to another person.

i) But that undercuts the need for penitents to personally suffer punishment to remit the guilt of temporal punishment.

ii) In my experience, Catholic apologists denounce penal substitution as a "legal fiction", but if the doctrine of purgatory includes transferrable merit, then that trades on the same principle. 

Penal substitution in honor-shame cultures

Here's a debate between Anand Samuel and Aubrey Sequeira vs. Jackson Wu on penal substitution in honor-shame cultures. In chronological order:

1. Anand Samuel and Aubrey Sequeira:

"Nothing To Be Ashamed Of: Penal Substitutionary Atonement In Honor-Shame Cultures"

2. Jackson Wu:

a. "How 9Marks Misrepresents Honor and Shame in Atonement"

b. "9Marks’ Strawman Argument Against Honor and Shame (Part 2)"

c. "How 9Marks Can Rise Above Shameful Theological Debates"

3. Anand Samuel and Aubrey Sequeira:

"Still Not Ashamed: A Response to Jackson Wu"

4. Jackson Wu:

"Open Letter of Gratitude for 9Marks’ Response"

Atonement by crucifixion

Historically, many Arminians reject penal substitution. They agree with Calvinists that if Jesus died to satisfy God's justice on behalf of the redeemed, then all the redeemed must be saved, since there's no judicial basis for them to suffer eschatological punishment. In addition, progressive theologians like Randal Rauser find the idea of penal substitution repugnant.

Proponents of penal substitution quote and exegete the standard prooftexts. And I think those carry the day.

There is, though, a neglected, but straightforward argument for penal substitution that doesn't rely on the standard prooftexts. Hidden in plain sight is Christ's voluntary death by crucifixion. 

It can't be seriously doubted that the Gospels (indeed, the NT generally) present the Crucifixion in vicarious, sacrificial terms. If, however, Jesus didn't die a penal substitutionary death, then why did he choose death by crucifixion? Why did he undergo a type of death that's emblematic of vicarious sacrifice? If penal substitution is false, why did he die a violent death at all? If penal substitution is false, why did he have to undergo any kind of death? Whatever the alternative to penal substitution, it doesn't require death, does it? Much less a death with vicarious, sacrificial connotations.

Perhaps opponents of penal substitution will attempt to drive a wedge between vicarious atonement and penal substitution. If so, in what respect is his voluntary vicarious death not punitive in character?

A last-ditch argument might be to claim that Jesus never intended to die by crucifixion; rather, he was overtaken by events. His death, or mode of death, was due to unforeseeable circumstances.

But in the Gospels, Jesus deliberately and repeatedly provokes the authorities, knowing full well that he is courting execution. Moreover, he eludes the lynch mobs. He eludes death by stoning. So Jesus is very single-minded about how he will die. 

Likewise, at his trial, he makes statements that are incriminating from the viewpoint of his accusers and judges. And he refuses to defend himself before Pilate. So, by process of elimination, he leaves the authorities with no other recourse. He systematically engineers his death by crucifixion.  

But if penal substitution is false, he was sending a very confusing message to onlookers. How else could the disciples be expected to interpret his death? 

Animal pain and penal substitution

One of the (many) problems with penal substitution as a comprehensive theory of atonement is that it offers no explicit treatment of the restoration/healing of non-human creation.

— Tentative Apologist (@RandalRauser) March 4, 2019

Ironically, this is where the extremes of theistic evolution and young-earth creationism meet. On the one hand, Arminian theologian Randal Rauser is a theistic evolutionist. So I assume he's alluding to the problem of evil in reference to animal suffering. That's a faddish issue in theodicy. 

On the other hand, young-earth creationists attribute nature red in tooth and claw to the Fall. So they have a parallel position regarding the problem of animal suffering. 

As I've explained on more than one occasion, I don't think animal suffering (such as it is), should be included in the problem of evil. I don't think it poses a serious challenge to Christian theology. 

And in general, I don't think the subhuman natural order requires restoration or "healing". It's working pretty much the way it was originally designed to work. It's mainly a problem when humans are endangered by nature. 

It's preposterous to complain that penal substitution is defective because it fails to "heal" the non-human creation. That reflects a chic Green environmentalist outlook foreign to the theology of Scripture. But as a "progressive Christian," biblical revelation was never Rauser's lodestar. He's in his own little world of make-believe. 

Is penal substitution possible?

A stock objection to penal substitution and vicarious atonement is that it's just not possible for one individual to assume the guilt of another individual. I've discussed this on various occasions, but now I'd like to approach it from a different angle:

i) Keep in mind that both sides have a burden of proof. The fact that critics of penal substitution/vicarious atonement raise the objection shouldn't put Christians on the defensive, as if the viewpoint of the critics is the default position. Both sides need to argue for their position. Critics are not entitled to shift the onus onto Christians. 

ii) Then there's the issue of whether this is even the kind of question we can settle a priori. In many cases, we believe something is possible because it is actual. Reality entails possibility. 

In many cases we don't attempt to justify the possibility of something a priori. Rather, we believe it's possible because we have concrete evidence that it's possible. Because we have evidence that something really happens or really exists. 

In the first instance, Christians believe in penal substitution/vicarious atonement because that's a revealed truth. Because that's what happened on the cross. That's the design of the atonement.

That's not based on intuition but experience. And that can be a legitimate source of knowledge. We rely on that for many things.

iii) What's the general principle that underlies the objection to penal substitution/vicarious atonement? In human affairs, there are many cases in which one party acts on behalf of another party, or in place of another party. 

Moreover, this may be asymmetrical. For instance, a private lacks the authority to do some things a general is entitled to do whereas a general has the authority to do whatever a private can do. So a private can't take action above his grade but a general can take action below his grade.

In that respect, a superior can take the place of a subordinate, but a subordinate can't take the place of a superior. By parity of argument, the Incarnate Son can take the place of sinners. 

iv) Consider an illustration. Suppose a gamer designs a video game with artificially intelligent characters. Most of the virtual characters are coequal. 

However, the gamer has one character who represents himself. Within the world of the game, that character has authority over all other characters, because he's the virtual counterpart of the designer. As their superior, he has the right to take the place of another or others. 

Craig on penal substitution

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fs_5o5Ph6Ig&feature=youtu.be

Parsing penal substitution

Many evangelicals regard penal substitution as the heart and soul of the Gospel. Indeed, on one definition, penal substitution is a definitive feature of evangelical identity. Yet many Arminians reject penal substitution. Catholics, Orthodox, and Anglo-Catholics typically reject penal substitution. Some objections are philosophical. I've addressed philosophical objections. In this post, I'd like to focus on some prooftexts for penal substitution. Because these texts share a common theme, I won't repeat the same comments on every text. What I say about one text is often applicable to another. 

I'm going to focus on the most straightforward passages. I'll resist the temptation to include the Johannine doctrine of the atonement (e.g. Jn 1:29; 11:51-52; 1 Jn 2:2), in part because there's no one compact verse that summarizes the Johannine doctrine. Rather, it's strung out in several different passages, so a proper treatment needs to study these in combination. That merits a separate treatment. By the same token, I'll resist the temptation to include Rom 3:21-26, in part because that's a very complex passage, with some loaded terms. So that, too, merits a separate treatment. In addition, Rom 3:25 and 1 Jn 2:2 employ the controverted term hilasmos. That also merits separate analysis.  

One hermeneutical consideration to keep in mind is that Scripture isn't written in a technical way that absolutely excludes every conceivable interpretation but one by process of elimination. If it were written that way, it would be impossibly cumbersome and inaccessible to most readers. Instead, the style of Scripture is designed to convey a general impression to the implied reader. 

Terminology

Vicarious atonement

A vicarious or substitutionary relation or transaction involves one agent acting on behalf of another. He does or undergoes something so that a second party won't have do it or undergo it. A one-to-many relation is a common clue for a vicarious or substitutionary action. 

Penal substitution

That's a special case of the general principle (vicarious atonement). In this type of transaction, one agent suffers punishment to spare a second party. 

Imputation

The recipient has ascribed status, as if he personally performed the meritorious or demeritorious action, when, in fact, that's the result of a second party.

Representation

This is sometimes presented as an alternative to substitution. Yet representation is typically substitutionary: an agent acting in the interests of another. Acting on their behalf by doing something for them, instead of their doing it themselves. 

Identification

This is sometimes presented as an alternative to substitution. Christ suffers with us rather than suffering for us. 

That, however, is a false dichotomy. It's quite possible for an agent to share in the suffering of another, yet switch places. Take the famous case of Fr. Kolbe, who volunteered to die in the stead of a fellow inmate. 

Patronage

A common rap against vicarious atonement, penal substitution, sole fide, and imputation is the charge of legal fiction. Merit and demerit are not transferrable. 

Keep in mind that that's just an intuitive objection. It's not a claim that's demonstrably true or false in the sense that a weather forecast is demonstrably true or false. Moreover, intuition often depends on the particular illustration.

Consider an analogy. Take the caste-system in the stereotypical high school. An honor/shame culture in miniature. You have high-status students and low-status students. 

Imagine the cafeteria. A low-status student is walking past the tables, looking for a spot to sit, as he carries his lunch tray. As a low-status student, he's picked on. In addition, he can't sit just anywhere. Some students don't want to sit by him. 

Another student sticks his foot out and trips the low-status student. He falls down, spilling the food and drink on his clothes. The other students cheer. He feels humiliated. 

Then another student gets up and walks over to him. A high-status student. He's the star quarterback. Most popular kid in school. Hip and cool. The boys wish they could be him while the girls wish they could be with him.

The quarterback has achieved status. He attained his topspot on the pecking order through athletic prowess, by winning state championships.

The cafeteria falls dead silent, waiting to see how the high-status student will respond to the plight of the low-status student, sprawled on the floor. Will he make fun of him? Will he shame him further by taunting him. The suspense is intense.

The quarterback reaches out his hand, raises the fallen student, and pats him on the chest. His action instantly transforms the social dynamic. By siding with the humiliated student, by expressing symbolic solidarity through his physical gesture, he transfers his high-status to the low-status student. He instantly elevates the student's social standing. The unpopular student now has ascribed status by virtue of his patron's achieved status. 

By the same token, the quarterback's action implicitly condemns the schadenfreude of the other students. Now they feel humiliated. His noble action exposes their ignoble reaction. His gesture lowers their status. They've gone down a notch while the unpopular student went up a notch. As students exit the cafeteria, the pecking order has undergone a sudden adjustment. 

Adoption and penal substitution

Here's a neglected argument for penal substitution. The NT says Christians are heirs. And inheritance has a vicarious dimension. An heir is the beneficiary of someone else's action. An heir needn't do anything to be the beneficiary. He can simply be an heir in virtue of his relation to someone else who did something. An heir typically has an ascribed status rather than an achieved status. A status conferred on him in relation to someone else.

According to the NT, Christians are heirs in virtue of their union with Jesus. And by reason of that relation, they are heirs of salvation rather than damnation. They escape eschatological judgment they are God's adopted sons, and they enjoy that status in virtue of what God's ontological Son did on their behalf. So that has a penal dimension as well as a vicarious dimension. 

A simple argument for penal substitution

There are fine-grained exegetical arguments for penal substitution by scholars like Thomas Schreiner and Simon Gathercole. But I'd like to sketch a simpler argument:

i) In the Gospels, one individual (Jesus) does something for the benefit of second parties. That's a one-to-many relationship. He takes an action for the good of many. Not something they do by themselves and for themselves, but something one individual does on behalf of others. That, in itself, is vicarious. A benefit accrues to them as if they themselves did it, when in fact someone else did it. And that's not an incidental consequence, but by design.

ii) And it has a more specific dimension. He suffers punishment. As a result, those who trust in him won't suffer eschatological judgment.   

The principle doesn't turn on a particular verbal formulation in the NT, or picturesque metaphors. It's operates at a more generic level. 

Did sacrificial animals die in place of people?

A while back, Bnonn Tennant did a provocative post. I won't link to it because, in preparation for the Zombie Apocalypse, his estimable blog has gone underground, but I will quote what I take to be some representative samples of his argument, then comment on them:

The Levitical system of sacrifices was not intended to model substitutionary atonement; it was about sanctifying the space and the people that God dwelt in the midst of.

When we read Leviticus, we read it through the lens of the cross. This is good, because Leviticus points to the cross; it was fulfilled there. However, the cross did more than one thing. Our default view is penal substitution—but I don’t believe that is how it fulfilledLeviticus. If we read Leviticus with substitution in mind, our interpretation becomes quite confused, and we miss what it is actually all about.

my contention is that they needed to cleanse it of ritual impurity. That is really the only reason that makes sense. They were purifying it to ensure it remained fit for God’s habitation.

The bull is for decontaminating the high priest; one goat is for decontaminating the people; another is for Azazel, a spiritual being; and the ram is for a burnt offering, which reestablished a relationship between the people and God.

the defilement is of a symbolic nature rather than a moral one.

In ritual settings, both words refer to purging or purifying. In Leviticus, therefore, I think we should translate kipper as “to make a purging,” rather than “to make atonement.” This is because, just as with the “sin offering,” it is clearly not referring to moral guilt; it is referring to decontamination. Obviously a place cannot incur, nor be purged of guilt. Rather, what is in view is the restoring of this space to a state fit for God to dwell in, by sprinkling God’s throne (the lid of the ark) with blood. The same thing happens in verse 18 with the altar: the priest “makes atonement for” the altar by sprinkling it with blood. He is not removing moral guilt; he is purging it from ritual uncleanness.

This understanding of atonement is corroborated in what happens next: the other goat is sent away. It is not sacrificed; its blood is never applied to anyone or anything. Rather, the ritual impurity of the people is symbolically transferred to it, and it is driven out of sacred space

The goat doesn’t “pay for” the impurity with its life; rather, it removes the impurity from the borders of the camp, carrying it into the wilderness, which was the domain of Azazel.

So what the Levitical system is modeling for us is not substitution; it is the need for forensic justification—for being declared fit for God’s presence purely on the basis of faith, as demonstrated in obedience to the cultic laws.

The connection between the blood of animals, and the blood of Jesus, is not that animals had to die in the place of people to turn away God’s wrath. Indeed, as any Christian knows—but hasn’t necessarily thought through—“it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (Hebrews 10:4). Rather, the blood made the area symbolically suitable, clean, for habitation by God. The point is not to turn away God’s wrath through a substitutionary sacrifice, nor to model the turning away of God’s wrath through a substitutionary sacrifice. It is to demonstrate the extreme unapproachableness of God in view of the depravity of man. 

i) Whether Azazel is a demonic being in Leviticus is highly disputable. However, it isn't clear to me that Bnonn's argument depends on that identification. And my response doesn't require me to refute that identification.

ii) I can't help wondering if Bnonn's argument isn't designed to undergird his Amyraldism and sidestep Owen's double jeopardy argument. If you believe that Christ died for everyone, and if you construe his death in penal substitutionary terms, the question is whether penal substitution in tandem with universal atonement entails universal salvation. Historically, many Arminians reject penal substitution for that very reason. 

iii) Since I'm not a traditionalist, I don't objection to iconoclastic interpretations, per se. And I agree with Bnonn that conventional translations can be prejudicial. 

iv) I don't see how one can avoid a vicarious transaction in some of these examples, where the offering is a stand-in for the sinner or worshiper. A graphic example is the scapegoat, where the guilt of the Israelites is symbolically transferred to the scapegoat, via the gesture of the priest, then the scapegoat is driven out of the camp, symbolically separating guilt from the guilty. 

Penal substitution builds on the generic vicarious principle, but adds a more specific nuance, where one thing is punished in place of another. To put the matter in reverse, absent a surrogate, the sinner or worshipper would suffer punishment in his own person.

v) Although I don't assume that every offering in Leviticus foreshadows the Cross, I think Leviticus is using several different pictures to foreshadow the redemptive significance of the Cross. No one picture is intended to capture in full the concept of penal substitution. Rather, these need to be viewed in combination. Different pictures to illustrate different facets of vicarious atonement and penal substitution. To say, therefore, that the scapegoat wasn't sacrificed misses the point. No one type of offering was meant to cover the entire idea. 

vi) The fundamental problem I have with Bnonn's analysis is that he erects a false dichotomy. I can grant the distinction between moral and ritual purity/impurity. I can grant the sacred spatial framework. 

Problem though, is that his dichotomy only pushes the question back a step. So what does sacred space signify? What does ritual defilement signify? Cultic holiness represents actual holiness. Cultic unholiness represents actual unholiness. These are emblematic pictures or enacted parables. You don't literally enter God's presence by entering the tabernacle or the inner sanctum. Rather, that's a pictorial representation. Concrete spatial metaphors or figurative tokens that stand for real good and evil. 

It's entirely consistent with the symbolic nature of the Levitical cultus that these gestures and actions symbolize vicarious atonement, penal substitution, thereby prefiguring the redemptive death of Christ on behalf of and in place of (elect) sinners. 

Joel Green on penal substitution

Joel Green is a leading Arminian NT scholar and critic of penal substitution. I'm going to comment on some of his objections to Tom Schreiner's exposition of penal substitution in J. Beilby & P. Eddy, eds. The Nature of the Atonement: Four Views (IVP 2006).

By what logic can it be assumed that anger is quenched by acting on it in this way? That is, even if we grant these two claims regarding the divine "penalty," on what basis does it follow that Jesus' dying quenches the anger directed at us by God? Does the transfer of guilt satisfy the demands of justice? (112).

i) Problem with Green's criticism is that he's raising a philosophical objection to an exegetical question. Schreiner is doing exegesis, not apologetics. Schreiner's aim is not to defend what the Bible says; he takes the revelatory status of Scripture as a starting-point in this discussion. His aim is to interpret the witness of Scripture regarding penal substitution. There are well-worn objections to whether guilt is transferable from one party to another, but while that's worth discussing, that's a separate issue. That can be a question of inerrancy, where a critic of penal substitution admits and rejects the witness of Scripture.

ii) Also, even at a philosophical level, it isn't necessary to defend penal substitution directly (which doesn't mean that can't be done). If, say, one can defend the revelatory status of Scripture, then that indirectly defends whatever Scripture teaches. 

Given the anthropathy at work in attributing this sort of anger to Yahweh, can we so easily escape the reality that redirecting anger at an innocent party does not (or at least need not) return the guilty party to good graces? (112).

The human family, not God, needs transformation, a reading that does not mesh well with this emphasis on the atonement as assuaging God's anger (114).

Penal substitution doesn't require a category of literal divine anger or wrath, &c. It can easily translate that colorful language into a more abstract concept like divine justice. Indeed, the necessary presupposition of penal substitution isn't divine wrath, but divine justice. That's the essential principle. 

If this logic is explanatory of the divine economy, how are we to understand those biblical accounts in which forgiveness is extended apart from the satisfaction of wrath (e.g., Mk 2:1-11)? (112).

That's a dubious argument from silence. The fact that Jesus forgave sinners like the paralytic without explicit reference to penal substitution or vicarious atonement doesn't imply that remission is independent of penal substitution or vicarious atonement. Indeed, Jesus would be working at cross-purposes to extend forgiveness apart from his redemptive death. It's more logical to infer that when Jesus forgave the paralytic, that was with a view to his impending death on the cross. That's why he came from heaven in the first place. His redemptive death is the presumptive basis for forgiving sins, in advance of his redemptive death. The relationship is teleological rather than chronological. That's why OT saints can be forgiven ahead of time. 

And although that's more abstract, it remains personal. Justice and injustice are properties of moral agents. 

Green's alternative disconnects the forgiveness which Christ extended to sinners like the paralytic from his death on the cross, as if Christ didn't have that in mind. It is in his proleptic capacity as the Redeemer that Christ forgave the paralytic. It makes no sense to disengage forgiveness from atonement. That renders the atonement superfluous. 

Schreiner has not addressed one of the principal questions raised against the model of penal substitutionary atonement, namely, that it presumes a breakdown of the inner-trinitarian life of God…How can one claim that the Son had to die on the cross in order to propitiate God's anger? (114).

That objection is misconceived. The Son didn't die to placate the Father's wrath. Divine justice is an attribute which the Trinitarian persons share in common. Although vicarious atonement to satisfy divine justice involves a contrast between Father and Son at the level of action, it does not involve a contrast between Father and Son at the level of justice. It's not as if the Father is the repository of divine justice, rather than the Son. No one person of the Trinity is sole custodian of cosmic justice. As an essential divine attribute, justice is common property of the Father, Son, and Spirit alike. 

I'm unsure how the model of penal substitutionary atonement generates transformed life (114).

Green acts as though penal substitution is defective if it fails to address salvation as transformation. But that assumes salvation should be reducible to a single overarching principle. Likewise, it assumes that salvation and atonement ought to be conterminous. 

If, however, sin has two basic components–moral corruption and culpability–then it's logical for salvation to have corresponding components. Penal substitution atones for guilt. That's the work of the Son. Sanctification generates transformation. That's the work of the Spirit. These are distinct, but complementary categories. It would be pointless to sanctify hellbound sinners. 

Focussed as it is on the individual, on forensic judgment and on the moment of justification, how can this model keep from undermining any emphasis on salvation as transformation and from obscuring the social and cosmological dimensions of salvation? If the purpose of God will be actualized in the restoration of all things, then how is this purpose served by a theory of penal substitution? How does the model of penal substitutionary atonement carry within itself the theological resolution of racism? What becomes of the soteriological motivation for engaging in the care of God's creation? Against the backdrop of texts like Col 1:15-20 and Eph 2, these are not peripheral questions (114). 

i) It's unclear what Green means by the restoration of all things. Only a universalist subscribes to that imagery without qualification. But in orthodox theology, not all agents will be reconciled to God. The damned are permanently alienated from God.

ii) It's unclear what Green means by the "cosmological dimension of salvation" and the "care of God's creation". Although the NT uses "cosmological" language, it doesn't use that in the modern astronomical sense. Most of the universe is lifeless and inhospitable to biological life. 

If he's indulging in a radical chic allusion to ecology, that stretches the concept of salvation. It's anachronistic to act as though the NT rubberstamps modern environmentalism, green energy, anthropogenic global warming, &c. 

Did God send himself to sacrifice himself to himself to save us from himself?

Secular Outpost retweeted
Linda Beatty
@LindaBeatty
Dec 8
Atheist: Because god sending himself to sacrifice himself to himself to save us from himself is a bit too much.

I wouldn't normally comment on a tweet by an atheist bimbo, but since this is an atheist trope, and since this was retweeted by the Secular Outpost, I'll discuss it. 

i) As is so often the case, this illustrates the chasm between the self-image of atheists and the reality. Atheists pride themselves on their superior rationality, yet so many of them operate at such pitifully deficient intellectual level. 

ii) To begin with, the formulation is unitarian. But according to the Christian doctrine of the atonement, the Father sent the Son. And the Son didn't sacrifice himself to himself. There are two individuals, two parties, not one. (Not to mention the role of the Holy Spirit in the plan of salvation.)

iii) But let's play along with the trope for a moment. Is there something innately absurd about the notion of a person sending himself? Take the case of someone who volunteers to go somewhere on an errant of mercy. In a sense, he sent himself by volunteering for the task, rather than sending someone else or leaving it up to someone else to go. 

iv) Is there something innately absurd about the notion of saving us from himself? Suppose a policeman discovers that his teenage son committed arson. The policeman has conflicting duties. On the one hand, he has a prima facie paternal duty to protect his son from harm. If his son is convicted of arson, that may ruin his life. 

On the other hand, he has a prima facie official duty to protect the community from arson. Indeed, even if he wasn't a policeman, he has a prima facie duty to protect his neighbors. What should he do?

Suppose he tells his son that if he ever repeats the crime, he will turn him in. Suppose he also makes an anonymous donation to recompense the arson victim. He makes that a loan to his son, which he requires his son to pay back, by working a job. If his son defaults on the loan, he will turn him in.

On the one hand, the father saves his delinquent son from himself (the father) by not arresting him. As a law enforcement officer, he has a prima facie duty to arrest an arsonist. In that capacity, he poses a threat to his delinquent son. Indeed, his son deserves to be arrested. But is there a way to give his son a second chance, while making restitution for the crime? 

There's nothing ridiculous about the possibility of competing duties. And there's nothing ridiculous about the same agent attempting to do justice to competing duties. 

Not that God has an obligation to save sinners, but if he chooses to exercise mercy, that must be consonant with divine justice. Forgiveness cannot be at the expense of justice, for that would compound the wrong. 

Revenge killings

I'm going to comment on an article by David Lewis:

http://www.andrewmbailey.com/dkl/Penal_Substitution.pdf

I believe Lewis was often regarded as the most brilliant philosopher of his generation. In addition, he was an atheist. In this article he's both critical of penal substitution and ambivalent about it. I'd like to make a few observations:

1. I think penal substitution and vicarious atonement confront us with conflicting intuitions. It's easy to come up with illustrations in which it seems to be unjust. But it's equally easy to come up with illustrations in which it seems to be fitting. Our reaction depends on the illustration

2. It can be difficult to untangle moral intuition from social conditioning. How widespread is the intuition that penal substitution is unjust? How representative is that sentiment? 

It doesn't seem to be by any means a universal moral intuition. Take revenge killings. In particular, there are cultures where, if a member of your clan murders a member of a rival clan, the rival clan will feel warranted in killing any member of your clan as just reprisal. They don't feel the need to execute the member of your clan who's actually guilty of the murder. Rather, they view the murder not so much as an attack on an individual, but an attack on their clan. So, by the same token, killing a member of your clan balances the scales of justice. Their moral perception operates at the level of the clan, not the individual. Or an individual in virtue of his relation to the clan. To attack a member of the rival clan dishonors their clan. They will avenge the murder of their clansman by killing an available representative of your clan, as the opportunity presents itself. A hapless individual who's unlucky enough to be the first representative they encounter. 

Now, my point is not to condone that perspective. I'm simply pointing out that what one society deems to be intuitively wrong another society may deem to be intuitively right. Again, I don't offer that as evidence for cultural relativism in the sense of moral relativism. Rather, I used that to depict the limitations of intuitive appeals. An appeal to moral "intuition" treats intuition as a moral authority. A source of innate insight or instinctive recognition of moral truths.

And I think that's sometimes the case. The problem, though, is how to separate genuine moral intuition from cultural prejudice. When is that really intuitive, and when is that just social conditioning masquerading as the lofty notion of moral intuition? 

3. Let's take another example. Suppose I murder your son. There are cultures in which you retaliate by killing my son. That actually has a tighter logic to it than the first example. It operates at two related levels:

i) Son-for-son. If you murder my son, you will suffer an equivalent loss. Executing the murderer is not equivalent.

ii) The avenger wants to make me feel the same pain I made him feel. Executing me would let me off too easy. He wants me to live so that I will experience what if feels like to lose a son. Putting me through what I put the avenger through.

It resembles poetic justice. We might say it's twisted logic, but it's not arbitrary. 

Again, my point is not to endorse it, but to demonstrate the superficiality of some putative intuitive objections. We may rightly look down on these examples as reflections of a primitive honor code, but members of those cultures don't see it that way, so facile appeals to moral intuition are inadequate to adjudicate the issue. 

4. Christians defend some Biblical teachings out of duty. But penal substitution and vicarious atonement are naturally compelling to many people who are not already Christian. It cuts across ethnicities and social classes. So it can't be dismissed as simply counterintuitive or morally repugnant. To say "Jesus died for my sins" has immense cross-cultural resonance. A critic might claim it's wrong, but simplistic appeals to intuition will be highly selective, inasmuch as many people don't see it that way at all. 

5. Sometimes we feel pulled in opposing directions. Take a teenager who commits a really serious crime. On the one hand it's too serious to be dismissed as a youthful indiscretion. On the other hand, a part of us would like to give him a second chance. We hate to see him ruin his life so soon. What a waste!

So what's the solution? Is there a solution? He had his whole life ahead of him, but if he's made to pay for his crime–which would be just punishment–his life is shot. What if someone volunteered to take his place?

It won't do just to say that's wrong, because we're pulled in two different directions. Although it's right that he should be punished, we also wish to salvage his future. 

6. Suppose I deserve to spend the next 30 years making restitution for my crime. Say that's a crime I committed as a teenager. By the time I make restitution, I will be middle-aged. I can't make up for the lost years. The lost opportunities. I can't start over again. It's too late for me. 

Now, that may be just deserts, but suppose there's an alternative. Suppose a friend takes my place. But there's a catch: after making restitution in my stead for 30 years, he's rejuvenated. He reverts to the same age he was when he began.

That's different. In that case, he didn't suffer irreparable loss. So we might not feel the same way about punishing him in lieu of the actual perpetrator. The 30 years of restitution are a genuine imposition, genuine hardship, and gratuitous hardship (since he's innocent), but we haven't taken something from him that he can't get back. 

Likewise, Jesus was tortured to death, but he came back to life. 

7. Another consideration which Lewis overlooks is that Jesus isn't just a our peer. Rather, he's God Incarnate.

To take a comparison, suppose a general's army is captured by the enemy. The general offers himself as ransom in exchange for the POWs to secure their release. Like chess, where some pieces are more valuable than others,  he's a greater prize than pawns. One general can take the place of many foot-soldiers.  

Tossing virgins into the volcano

Arminian Randal Rauser recently posed an attack on penal substitution: 

Some Christians (advocates of penal substitution) believe that Jesus’ atoning death satisfies the wrath of the Father against sin, and thus that Jesus’ death provides the culmination and completion of the temple sacrificial system.

The difference can be illustrated with the standard story of the South Pacific islanders who believe an innocent virgin must be tossed into the mouth of the volcano to satisfy the Volcano God so that he will not erupt and thereby smite the people for their sins.

The advocate of penal substitution offers a view of divine wrath and justice which is in continuity with the framework of divine/human relations that is assumed by the South Pacific islanders. To be sure, the advocate of penal substitution does not commend the act, but he does share the logic: God is wrathful against sin and that wrath can be satisfied by an appropriate substitutionary sacrifice.

http://randalrauser.com/2016/10/jesus-vs-volcano-christians-disagree-atonement-matters/

i) Tossing virgins into a volcano is a scurrilous comparison. Now, Rauser may feign that he's not directly comparing penal substitution to tossing virgins into a volcano, but he's clearly trading on the lurid connotations of pagan sacrifice to tarnish penal substitution by association. 

ii) Penal substitution doesn't mean the Father's "wrath" is satisfied. Even if we operate with the "wrathful" framework, it's not as if the Father is wrathful about sin, while the Son (and Spirit) are not wrathful about sin. It's not as if an unwrathful Son placates the Father's wrath. Rather, it would be a case of placating divine wrath. It's not as if one member of the Trinity can be wrathful while the other two are not. If there is such a thing as divine wrath, the Trinity would be wrathful. 

iii) Divine wrath is not a presupposition of penal substitution. Penal substitution concerns the satisfaction (through vicarious atonement) of divine justice, not divine wrath. Even if God wasn't wrathful, that wouldn't eliminate penal substitution. In fact, wrath cannot be satisfied. That's a category mistake. Wrath is not a forensic category. By contrast, justice can be satisfied. Justice and satisfaction are both forensic categories. 

iv) I don't think God is literally enraged by sin. I think that's a colorful, anthropomorphic way of depicting God's disapprobation regarding sin. 

Perhaps Rauser would say he's commenting on popular presentations of penal substitution. If so, that hardly disproves more precise formulations. 

v) The OT, which provides the typology of penal substitution or vicarious atonement, forbad human sacrifice. 

vi) Mere human sacrifice cannot atone for sin. Putting a sinner to death would fail to atone for even his own sin.

vii) Jesus is innocent in a way that no sinner is. Moreover, Jesus isn't merely human.