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Adult study
As We Believe, So We Behave
Living the Apostles' Creed
"I believe in God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried...."
They killed him. They taunted him ... tortured him. They killed him. Why? What had he done? The answer of our faith over the centuries has been nothing. He was the only perfect one who ever lived. He was sinless. Yet, the record remains and our affirmation is repeated: "... suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried...." Why?
The traditional answer, of course, is that "Christ died for our sins" (1 Corinthians 15:3). The Bible says so. Our youngest Sunday school students know it. John the Baptist declared, "Look, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29). His horrible death paid the penalty that would have been exacted of you and me without this selfless sacrificial act of redemption on Calvary:
Jesus paid it all,
All to him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.1
Have you ever wondered about that? I would not be surprised if you answered, "No." After all, this is pretty bloodthirsty stuff. If it were not for the fact that it has been part and parcel of our faith tradition from the time we were old enough to understand anything, we would be horrified. If this story was not so familiar to us, if we were hearing it for the first time from someone trying to convert us to his or her faith, we would gag. We are talking about human sacrifice here. In how many other situations would we blithely accept human sacrifice as a good thing? In any other religion? What are we saying about the God we worship with this human sacrifice business? I thought we also learned early on in Sunday school that our God is love! Are these contradictions or questions?
If it eases your mind, digging into this is nothing new. For centuries, theologians have wondered about this question of why Christ died and how that death has anything to do with our salvation. The $3 theological word for the subject is atonement. There have been a number of attempts at explaining it.
There is the "moral-influence" theory that emphasizes the effect Christ's sufferings have (or should have) on us. We see what misery he went through on our behalf and we respond in a positive way.
An incident in the life of Gandhi can illustrate. In 1922, the independence movement in India was beginning to pick up tremendous momentum and along with it, a deep-seated hatred for the British. Gandhi, of course, was a leading light in that movement and a strong believer in its eventual success but only if the struggle were carried on by nonviolent means. When word came to him that some of his own followers in the movement were beginning to disregard this principle of non-violence, he announced that he would not eat until all their violence was at an end and that they would guarantee that violent acts would not recur. As the days passed, it became obvious that Gandhi was in dead earnest and was willing to die unless the violence stopped and assurances were forthcoming that such acts would not be repeated. So the violence stopped. Gandhi was weakened to the point where the doctors could not be sure that he would live even if the fast were ended. Then the guarantees were given; the fast was broken and Gandhi recovered. Through his suffering, he had so affected even those who disagreed with him that they were willing to give up what their leader considered wrong methods. Such is the stuff of moral influence.
This is what some scholars want to say concerning the way the death of Christ affects us. We see what he went through and are so moved that we renounce our evil and everyone lives happily ever after. The only problem is there are lots of folks who have never heard the story, so they cannot respond.
Another approach, the "ransom to the devil" theory. This one has the devil offering God the souls of all humanity in exchange for the one sinless soul, Jesus Christ. The theory went on to say that this is precisely what happened, but God hoodwinked the devil by raising Jesus up after only three days. Christ was simply the bait on a clever, divine fishhook that was snatched away at the opportune moment. Is God that kind of a charlatan?
Another theory is "penal substitution." This is the one with which most of us best identify as far as our early training goes. It takes a legal approach and says that if God's laws are broken, a penalty must be paid (the same way as in our own legal system). This theory says that what Jesus did was to live a life of perfect obedience to God's law and needed no penalty payment for himself. Thus, he and he alone was able to pay the penalty on our behalf to satisfy the demands of a righteous, heavenly judge. Justice is served. Of course, there is a basic flaw in the argument. Simply because an injured party has restitution paid on behalf of the one who caused the injury in the first place in no way restores the original relationship. There is no reconciliation there, not in any meaningful sense.
There is one more theory -- the "satisfaction" theory. This is similar to the one we just discussed. It recognizes the substitutionary character of Christ's death -- he did it on our behalf; it recognizes the human offense against God, but insists that the offense is not just against God's law but against God's honor. The way the theologians described it, the price of satisfaction was higher than you or I could pay, so God had two choices: Be content with the fact that there is a gap that could not be bridged, or find some way to bridge the gap. According to this theory, God took the second option. God became a human being so no one could say that the satisfaction was not legitimate, and then God paid the price ... a price paid by God to God. That is why God became human and that is how any atonement has taken place.
Let us try one more. Perhaps, way back when Paul wrote "Christ died for our sins," everyone knew exactly what he meant, more so than we might today. Perhaps there was some perspective, shared by those of that time and in that society, which understood the relationship between Christ's death and our sinfulness. Perhaps if we could read those words through their eyes, it would all make a bit more sense. Remember that the concept of family in the Middle East is incredibly important, far more so than here in the West. Oriental cultures think nothing at all of four generations living under the same roof -- they do not raise their children to leave. Tied in with that is a special understanding of what it means to be family, not only in terms of mutual support, but also of family honor and family shame. A person may be guilty, but that guilt has a ripple effect -- the person's family members and tribe will end up feeling shame.
We understand that to a degree. What are the feelings of the parents and siblings of someone on trial for murder or rape or something equally horrible -- shame? -- probably. Did they commit the crimes? No, but the shame is there, nonetheless. By the same token, an individual may be recognized for some accomplishment or great deed. Not only is that individual honored, the honor also rubs off on the entire family. When one of our own does something honorable and is honored for it, we are honored. We experience family shame and honor feelings here in the West even though we, more than any of the other cultures on earth, insist on putting individuals on a pedestal. So saying, note that those feelings are intensified in parts of the world that place a high value on interrelatedness, extended family, and tribe.
In ancient Mediterranean society, shame was often cancelled through blood -- still is. If one shames me or my kin, I may restore honor by killing the offender. Or I may attempt to reduce my shame or that of a loved one by spilling my own blood (as Saul did after his failures as king, or as Judas did after betraying Jesus). Even today, in Palestinian culture, a father may be honored for killing his own unmarried daughter if she shames her family by becoming pregnant.
Move the family metaphor up to the nth degree -- the human family. In Paul's writings, he notes our human interrelatedness, especially in terms of sin -- he harks back to Adam, the sin that began in the Eden, the sin that has infected us and shamed the human family ever since (Romans 5:12-19; 1 Corinthians 15:22 ff). Along came Jesus. He took on our family shame. He was killed by the most shameful means possible, the public humiliation of crucifixion. The Jews regarded death on a cross as evidence of rejection by God: "Anyone hung on a tree is under God's curse," says Deuteronomy 21:23. Jesus died in utter shame. In a society that understood the way shame could be washed away by blood, Jesus "... suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried...." "... and the blood of Jesus ... cleanses us from all sin" (1 John 1:7 NRSV).
We believe it. Now what difference does it make in your life? If what we believe determines how we behave, what are the implications?
One of my seminary professors, years ago, told the story of three young university students in Paris. As is the case with many who get to their late teens and early twenties without too much terrible happening to them, they looked at the world with jaundiced eyes. All the values they had been taught by their parents were terribly foolish and outmoded. The religion they had been taught as children was nothing more than infantile superstition. Their creed had become "Science is my shepherd, I shall not want."
One day, as they walked in the city, they happened to pass by the cathedral of Notre Dame. They looked at that magnificent structure and laughed among themselves at the foolishness of the peasants centuries before who had worked so hard and given up so much to honor something as absurd as the Christian faith. One said to the others, "I am tempted to go in there right now and tell the priest what a misguided imbecile he is and how little his Christ is worth."
The other two said, "Go ahead. We dare you." And so, not one to let the challenge go unheeded, he went, his friends following at a little distance.
Into that magnificent building he came, straight down to the main altar where he saw a priest busy with some work. There was no mass going on, so the young man went right up to him and said, "Father, Christ died for my sins, and I don't give a damn."
Needless to say, the man of the cloth was taken aback. What does one say?
"Didn't you hear me, Father? I said Christ died for my sins, and I don't give a damn."
"Oh, I heard you, my son, but I'm not the one you should be telling." Then the priest pointed up above his head to the lifelike crucifix over the altar and said, "You really should say it to him."
A sneer crossed the boy's lips as he said, "Sure!" Then he looked up and saw the figure of another young man, not much different from himself: strong, lean, in the prime of life, but sad somehow, as if the weight of the whole world had been put on him. As the boy continued to look, he said again, "Christ died for my sins ... and I don't give a damn." Then he looked away from the crucifix and back to the priest. "There, I've said it to him."
But the good father was not satisfied. He said, "Please, my son, do it again ... please."
Again, the boy agreed. His eyes returned to that lifeless figure above him: young and strong in body, but with flesh ripped apart by nails in the hands, the wound of a spear in the side, the crown of thorns jammed down on the brow. It was the picture of suffering the lad had never noticed before. He opened his mouth to speak once again: "Christ died for my sins, and ... and...." But he could not finish. He fell to his knees and began to sob.
It is the closing scene in the motion picture, Ben Hur. The sky is disappearing behind the ominous-looking cloud formations. The movie camera takes a long shot of three crosses rising out of a distant hill. Then the camera moves in close, closer, to the figure stretched out on the center cross. Lightning reveals a man squirming in silent agony to the rhythm of the flashes. It is raining hard. With each flash of light, the pool of rainwater at the foot of the cross grows larger. Suddenly, a single drop of blood drips into the pool and scatters. Then another drop falls. And then another. The pool is now tinted light red. The rain comes harder and the pool overflows into another pool immediately below it. The second pool reddens and enlarges, overflowing into still another pool which, in turn, overflows into a small stream. The bloodstained stream flows into a larger stream that meets a river that flows into an ocean.
"... crucified, dead and buried." Why? For me -- for you -- for all the world ... "that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16).
____________
1. "Jesus Paid It All," words by Elvina Hall, 1865.
Questions For Reflection
1. What is atonement?
2. Of the atonement theories noted by the author, which most resembles the teaching of your church tradition?
3. If the concept of human sacrifice is so abhorrent to Christians, how do we understand the crucifixion?
4. If the cross is an instrument of torture and an early method of capital punishment, how do we justify turning crosses into jewelry?
5. Is it difficult to read the Bible through first-century Middle Eastern eyes for Christians raised 2,000 years later in the West?
They killed him. They taunted him ... tortured him. They killed him. Why? What had he done? The answer of our faith over the centuries has been nothing. He was the only perfect one who ever lived. He was sinless. Yet, the record remains and our affirmation is repeated: "... suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried...." Why?
The traditional answer, of course, is that "Christ died for our sins" (1 Corinthians 15:3). The Bible says so. Our youngest Sunday school students know it. John the Baptist declared, "Look, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29). His horrible death paid the penalty that would have been exacted of you and me without this selfless sacrificial act of redemption on Calvary:
Jesus paid it all,
All to him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.1
Have you ever wondered about that? I would not be surprised if you answered, "No." After all, this is pretty bloodthirsty stuff. If it were not for the fact that it has been part and parcel of our faith tradition from the time we were old enough to understand anything, we would be horrified. If this story was not so familiar to us, if we were hearing it for the first time from someone trying to convert us to his or her faith, we would gag. We are talking about human sacrifice here. In how many other situations would we blithely accept human sacrifice as a good thing? In any other religion? What are we saying about the God we worship with this human sacrifice business? I thought we also learned early on in Sunday school that our God is love! Are these contradictions or questions?
If it eases your mind, digging into this is nothing new. For centuries, theologians have wondered about this question of why Christ died and how that death has anything to do with our salvation. The $3 theological word for the subject is atonement. There have been a number of attempts at explaining it.
There is the "moral-influence" theory that emphasizes the effect Christ's sufferings have (or should have) on us. We see what misery he went through on our behalf and we respond in a positive way.
An incident in the life of Gandhi can illustrate. In 1922, the independence movement in India was beginning to pick up tremendous momentum and along with it, a deep-seated hatred for the British. Gandhi, of course, was a leading light in that movement and a strong believer in its eventual success but only if the struggle were carried on by nonviolent means. When word came to him that some of his own followers in the movement were beginning to disregard this principle of non-violence, he announced that he would not eat until all their violence was at an end and that they would guarantee that violent acts would not recur. As the days passed, it became obvious that Gandhi was in dead earnest and was willing to die unless the violence stopped and assurances were forthcoming that such acts would not be repeated. So the violence stopped. Gandhi was weakened to the point where the doctors could not be sure that he would live even if the fast were ended. Then the guarantees were given; the fast was broken and Gandhi recovered. Through his suffering, he had so affected even those who disagreed with him that they were willing to give up what their leader considered wrong methods. Such is the stuff of moral influence.
This is what some scholars want to say concerning the way the death of Christ affects us. We see what he went through and are so moved that we renounce our evil and everyone lives happily ever after. The only problem is there are lots of folks who have never heard the story, so they cannot respond.
Another approach, the "ransom to the devil" theory. This one has the devil offering God the souls of all humanity in exchange for the one sinless soul, Jesus Christ. The theory went on to say that this is precisely what happened, but God hoodwinked the devil by raising Jesus up after only three days. Christ was simply the bait on a clever, divine fishhook that was snatched away at the opportune moment. Is God that kind of a charlatan?
Another theory is "penal substitution." This is the one with which most of us best identify as far as our early training goes. It takes a legal approach and says that if God's laws are broken, a penalty must be paid (the same way as in our own legal system). This theory says that what Jesus did was to live a life of perfect obedience to God's law and needed no penalty payment for himself. Thus, he and he alone was able to pay the penalty on our behalf to satisfy the demands of a righteous, heavenly judge. Justice is served. Of course, there is a basic flaw in the argument. Simply because an injured party has restitution paid on behalf of the one who caused the injury in the first place in no way restores the original relationship. There is no reconciliation there, not in any meaningful sense.
There is one more theory -- the "satisfaction" theory. This is similar to the one we just discussed. It recognizes the substitutionary character of Christ's death -- he did it on our behalf; it recognizes the human offense against God, but insists that the offense is not just against God's law but against God's honor. The way the theologians described it, the price of satisfaction was higher than you or I could pay, so God had two choices: Be content with the fact that there is a gap that could not be bridged, or find some way to bridge the gap. According to this theory, God took the second option. God became a human being so no one could say that the satisfaction was not legitimate, and then God paid the price ... a price paid by God to God. That is why God became human and that is how any atonement has taken place.
Let us try one more. Perhaps, way back when Paul wrote "Christ died for our sins," everyone knew exactly what he meant, more so than we might today. Perhaps there was some perspective, shared by those of that time and in that society, which understood the relationship between Christ's death and our sinfulness. Perhaps if we could read those words through their eyes, it would all make a bit more sense. Remember that the concept of family in the Middle East is incredibly important, far more so than here in the West. Oriental cultures think nothing at all of four generations living under the same roof -- they do not raise their children to leave. Tied in with that is a special understanding of what it means to be family, not only in terms of mutual support, but also of family honor and family shame. A person may be guilty, but that guilt has a ripple effect -- the person's family members and tribe will end up feeling shame.
We understand that to a degree. What are the feelings of the parents and siblings of someone on trial for murder or rape or something equally horrible -- shame? -- probably. Did they commit the crimes? No, but the shame is there, nonetheless. By the same token, an individual may be recognized for some accomplishment or great deed. Not only is that individual honored, the honor also rubs off on the entire family. When one of our own does something honorable and is honored for it, we are honored. We experience family shame and honor feelings here in the West even though we, more than any of the other cultures on earth, insist on putting individuals on a pedestal. So saying, note that those feelings are intensified in parts of the world that place a high value on interrelatedness, extended family, and tribe.
In ancient Mediterranean society, shame was often cancelled through blood -- still is. If one shames me or my kin, I may restore honor by killing the offender. Or I may attempt to reduce my shame or that of a loved one by spilling my own blood (as Saul did after his failures as king, or as Judas did after betraying Jesus). Even today, in Palestinian culture, a father may be honored for killing his own unmarried daughter if she shames her family by becoming pregnant.
Move the family metaphor up to the nth degree -- the human family. In Paul's writings, he notes our human interrelatedness, especially in terms of sin -- he harks back to Adam, the sin that began in the Eden, the sin that has infected us and shamed the human family ever since (Romans 5:12-19; 1 Corinthians 15:22 ff). Along came Jesus. He took on our family shame. He was killed by the most shameful means possible, the public humiliation of crucifixion. The Jews regarded death on a cross as evidence of rejection by God: "Anyone hung on a tree is under God's curse," says Deuteronomy 21:23. Jesus died in utter shame. In a society that understood the way shame could be washed away by blood, Jesus "... suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried...." "... and the blood of Jesus ... cleanses us from all sin" (1 John 1:7 NRSV).
We believe it. Now what difference does it make in your life? If what we believe determines how we behave, what are the implications?
One of my seminary professors, years ago, told the story of three young university students in Paris. As is the case with many who get to their late teens and early twenties without too much terrible happening to them, they looked at the world with jaundiced eyes. All the values they had been taught by their parents were terribly foolish and outmoded. The religion they had been taught as children was nothing more than infantile superstition. Their creed had become "Science is my shepherd, I shall not want."
One day, as they walked in the city, they happened to pass by the cathedral of Notre Dame. They looked at that magnificent structure and laughed among themselves at the foolishness of the peasants centuries before who had worked so hard and given up so much to honor something as absurd as the Christian faith. One said to the others, "I am tempted to go in there right now and tell the priest what a misguided imbecile he is and how little his Christ is worth."
The other two said, "Go ahead. We dare you." And so, not one to let the challenge go unheeded, he went, his friends following at a little distance.
Into that magnificent building he came, straight down to the main altar where he saw a priest busy with some work. There was no mass going on, so the young man went right up to him and said, "Father, Christ died for my sins, and I don't give a damn."
Needless to say, the man of the cloth was taken aback. What does one say?
"Didn't you hear me, Father? I said Christ died for my sins, and I don't give a damn."
"Oh, I heard you, my son, but I'm not the one you should be telling." Then the priest pointed up above his head to the lifelike crucifix over the altar and said, "You really should say it to him."
A sneer crossed the boy's lips as he said, "Sure!" Then he looked up and saw the figure of another young man, not much different from himself: strong, lean, in the prime of life, but sad somehow, as if the weight of the whole world had been put on him. As the boy continued to look, he said again, "Christ died for my sins ... and I don't give a damn." Then he looked away from the crucifix and back to the priest. "There, I've said it to him."
But the good father was not satisfied. He said, "Please, my son, do it again ... please."
Again, the boy agreed. His eyes returned to that lifeless figure above him: young and strong in body, but with flesh ripped apart by nails in the hands, the wound of a spear in the side, the crown of thorns jammed down on the brow. It was the picture of suffering the lad had never noticed before. He opened his mouth to speak once again: "Christ died for my sins, and ... and...." But he could not finish. He fell to his knees and began to sob.
It is the closing scene in the motion picture, Ben Hur. The sky is disappearing behind the ominous-looking cloud formations. The movie camera takes a long shot of three crosses rising out of a distant hill. Then the camera moves in close, closer, to the figure stretched out on the center cross. Lightning reveals a man squirming in silent agony to the rhythm of the flashes. It is raining hard. With each flash of light, the pool of rainwater at the foot of the cross grows larger. Suddenly, a single drop of blood drips into the pool and scatters. Then another drop falls. And then another. The pool is now tinted light red. The rain comes harder and the pool overflows into another pool immediately below it. The second pool reddens and enlarges, overflowing into still another pool which, in turn, overflows into a small stream. The bloodstained stream flows into a larger stream that meets a river that flows into an ocean.
"... crucified, dead and buried." Why? For me -- for you -- for all the world ... "that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16).
____________
1. "Jesus Paid It All," words by Elvina Hall, 1865.
Questions For Reflection
1. What is atonement?
2. Of the atonement theories noted by the author, which most resembles the teaching of your church tradition?
3. If the concept of human sacrifice is so abhorrent to Christians, how do we understand the crucifixion?
4. If the cross is an instrument of torture and an early method of capital punishment, how do we justify turning crosses into jewelry?
5. Is it difficult to read the Bible through first-century Middle Eastern eyes for Christians raised 2,000 years later in the West?
