In this essay, Edith M. Humphrey, seeking to recapture a holistic view of the atonement, focuses on the way that key Pauline texts (especially Colossians 1, Galatians 3 and 2 Cor 5) were read by fourth- and fifth-century interpreters. She argues that a full picture of the atonement needs to emerge that incorporates redemption, reparation, representation, righteousness, rescue, recapitulation, reconciliation, and revolutionary recreation. This full picture is drawn from the entirety of what Christ was, is, and did pro nobis, and with some surprises for those who draw too strict a line between “Western” and “Eastern” interpretations of Paul. Over against N. T. Wright’s insistence that atonement needs to be reimagined, Humphrey argues rather that it needs to be retrieved. In the patristic commentators, Humphrey demonstrates, we can find such a vision of the atonement.
Published with permission. This article was originally published in One God, One People, One Future: Essays In Honor Of N. T. Wright, eds. John Anthony Dunne and Eric Lewellen (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2018).
1. Introduction
During Lent, I am delighted to join in a liturgy ascribed to St. Basil of Caesarea, a Church father of the fourth century. At the Anaphora, we ‘lift up’ our hearts as the celebrant prays: ‘For, since through man sin came into the world and through sin death, it pleased Your only begotten Son, who is in Your bosom, God and Father, born of a woman, the holy Theotokos and ever-virgin Mary, born under the law, to condemn sin in His flesh, so that those who died in Adam may be brought to life in Him, Your Christ.’ This prayer bears a family likeness to passages in St. Paul’s letters, and in the Church Fathers—the knitting together of themes and of soteriological moments. In one sentence are integrated echoes of the gospel and at least five passages from the epistles. We also glimpse the glory of creation, God’s call of Israel, the Incarnation, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection—all of these connected with the atonement made for our sake. This way of integration, however, is not as frequently followed by contemporary scholars. It seems that one unfortunate effect of Aulén’s celebrated Christus Victor was to harden what seem to some to be irreconcilable constructs: human frailty rather than sinfulness eliciting God’s anger; the conquest of death over against reparation for sin;the ‘Eastern’ metaphor of rescue against ‘Western’ images of sacrifice and law-court.
In this paper, I will sketch some reactive ‘paths not taken’ by me, and then examine how key Church fathers from the Christological period of the fourth and fifth centuries read pertinent passages from Colossians, Galatians and 2 Corinthians.[1] We find in these a fertile field for various pictures of how the Son acted pro nobis and discover how the ancient theologians negotiated the mystery that we can, with some neutrality, call ‘atonement’—the making ‘at one’ of God and humankind. To cleave to the Scriptures, and to inhabit the same Tradition as our older siblings in the faith, means that we will want to reclaim all the “Pauline Rs”— Redemption, Reparation, Representation, Righteousness, Rescue (i.e. Christus Victor), Recapitulation and Reconciliation. (And now, with the advent of Tom Wright’s latest book,[2] we are tempted to add a double R: Revolutionary Recreation!) With my friend Michael Gorman, I want to demonstrate how St Paul himself moved ‘seamlessly’[3] from one metaphorical cluster to another in illumining this mystery, as did many Fathers. Similarly, we will take account of how they called upon the entire action of the God-Man, from Incarnation to Ascension, in describing all that He has done for us. To these ends, we will close with St John Chrysostom’s neglected sermon ‘On the Ascension of Our Lord.’
2. Paths not Taken
Aulén’s strength was that he alerted some Western scholars to their myopia. Those who had long felt uneasy about the playing off of Father against Son, mechanical penal substitution, and Western over-emphasis on escape from the final judgment, now rallied to ‘the East.’[4] However, in their reaction, some seem to have constructed a caricature of the Eastern fathers that downplays their awareness of sin and sacrifice. Recently Benjamin Myers gave an absorbing lecture,[5] in which he draws out not only what he sees as the patristic theory of atonement, but also the ‘mechanism’ by which it works. His goal is laudable: not to give in too quickly to the hegemony of ‘mystery’ that many (wrongly) assume to have taken Orthodox theology captive. Instead, he works assiduously through Saints Athanasius, John Chrysostom, Cyril of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory Nazianzus. His argument traces twelve steps and discloses three patristic assumptions: that there is a universal human nature; that death is a privation of reality, and that the divine nature is impassible. He concludes: ‘Human mortality is reversed when the life-giving divine nature makes contact with human nature at the point of its slide into non-being.’[6] This is the ‘mechanism,’ the hinge upon which the ‘patristic model’ works. What happens to Christ happens to human nature as a whole, and so humans are free from the power of death and restored. Moreover, humans, now united with God, receive benefits far beyond rescue from death.
Myers’s presentation recoups much of the scope of patristic teaching on atonement, and is friendly to theōsis. It makes sense of St Athanasius’ argument that the Incarnation was necessary, St Cyril of Alexandria’s teaching of the communicatio idiomatum, St Gregory Nyssa’s insistence that God can touch death without suffering harm, and St Gregory Nazianzus’ dictum: ‘We needed a God made flesh and made dead that we might live.’ It is, however, selective, since it has little to say about that other enemy, sin, or about the sacrificial language abundantly present in the traditional Divine Liturgies and dominating patristic commentaries on Paul. Certainly the apostle and the fathers match human death to Christ’s resolving Incarnation—but not so as to dismiss the human problem of sin or to ignore the cross.
But it is not only the West that is over-reactive: I must be a fair and equal-opportunity offender! Though some Orthodox have made eirenic moves—for example, the rehabilitation of Anselm by David Bentley Hart[7]—we regularly find polarizing polemics among them. The most balanced writers feel it necessary to specify Orthodox views of atonement by virtue of what they are not. Father John Meyendorff, for example, writes: ‘Communion in the risen body of Christ; participation in divine life; sanctification through the energy of God, which penetrates true humanity and restores it to its “natural” state, rather than justification, or remission of inherited guilt—these are at the center of the Byzantine understanding of the Christian gospel.’[8] Father John Breck explains that in ‘the Greek patristic tradition, the Pauline notion of dikaiosynē [is seen as] “righteousness,” rather than as “justice” in the forensic sense.’[9] In response to these restrictive, if nuanced, Eastern descriptions of atonement, Fr. Matthew Baker (of blessed memory!) recommends the trajectory traced by the great Fr. Georges Florovsky, who at the end of his career more easily embraced some Western construals. Fr. Matthew suggests: ‘A more honest study of the language of substitution, debt-satisfaction, ransom, and law in general within patristic literature is . . . in order.’[10] I agree: and a closer reading of what some of the fathers say as they deal with St Paul is a good start.
Before we proceed in our analysis of Scripture, however, we note another contemporary method that says, in effect, ‘a pox on both your houses,’—or, more politely, it seeks a tertium quid. This would be the style of our beloved N. T. Wright, whose latest brilliant book The Day the Revolution Began, seeks to ‘reimagine’ redemption. Jesus, as the NT hilastērion,[11]is to be understood neither in terms of expiation, nor pagan propitiation, but as the place where God and humanity meet. He is the new covenant archetype who replaces the cover to the ark, where blood is spilled, and cleansing and reconciliation procured. Here Wright sends us to lxx Leviticus, which uses the word hilastērion for the cover to the ark. He reminds us that the animal was not slaughtered on this holy place, but in the outer precincts of the Temple, argues that the slaughtering was merely the prelude to the cleansing sprinkling of blood, and sidelines the concept of penal sacrifice associated with the death of the seven Maccabean youths, because these stories are ‘not in the biblical literature.’ (To all this I would remark that hilastērion is employed in lxx Ezekiel and Amos to gesture at the altar,[12] that slaughtering took place, significantly, in the sight of the people and ‘before the Lord,’ that 2 Maccabees is ‘canonical’ for some of us, and that even 4 Maccabees, though extra-canonical,[13] offers contextual explanations!)
In Wright’s depiction, neither any Eastern view that might allow the resurrection to overshadow the cross, nor any Western fixation upon a punishing sacrifice that puts away God’s wrath, adequately represents the apostle’s soteriology. There is a third way, by which we are to avoid platonizing, moralizing and paganizing results. He insists: we must ‘forget the false either/or that plays different theories of atonement against one another.’[14] I agree entirely on this point! However, I am not as confident as my friend that we should reimagine in order to ‘enter this powerful, sprawling, many-sided, richly revelatory narrative.’[15] Instead, I want to acknowledge the many vistas the Fathers have spied in St Paul’s writings, seeing where they form a single horizon, and where they stand in stark contrast to one another. This will mean, I am afraid, allowing the old language of ‘punishment,’ ‘atoning sacrifice,’ and even ‘propitiation,’ to jostle against more palatable views. (The Gospels have their Johannine bolt-from-the-blue, and Chrysostom has his discomfiting moments of penal sacrifice!) It is not re-imagining, but retrieval that I have in mind.
3. Recapitulation and the Other Rs (Colossians 1.13–23)
We begin with Colossians 1.13–23, unpromising because of its disputed authorship, but helpful as a departure-point. The passage is marked by poetic nimbleness.
13 He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and transplanted us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
15 He is the image of the invisible God,
the first-born over all creation;
Since in him all things were created,
in heaven and on earth, seen and unseen
(whether Thrones or Dominions or Archōns or Powers).
All things were created through him and for him.
17 He is before all things, and in him all things cohere.
18 And he is the head of the body, the church;
He is the beginning, the first-born from the dead,
that He in everything might be the First.
19 For in him all the fulness of God was pleased to dwell,
20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things,
whether on earth or in heaven,
peacemaking through the blood of his cross.
21 And you, who once were alienated and at enmity in mind, as you did evil deeds, 22 now he has reconciled in the body of his flesh through his death, so as to present you holy and without blemish and blameless before his face,23— so long as you remain established upon the faith, both steadfast and not changing your position away from the hope of the gospel which you heard, which has been preached to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister.[16]
In these eleven verses, many given over more to the praise of Christ than to the question of soteriology, we are impressed with the theme of Recapitulation, where Christ is seen to sum up, or head up, all things. But the shades of the palate also include:
- Rescue from imprisonment and death (v. 13),
- Redemption from slavery (v. 14),
- Reconciliation with God and others (v. 20),
- Reparatory sacrifice (‘the body of his flesh through his death,’ v. 22), and
- Righteousness in the context of judgment (‘blameless before his face,’ v. 22).
As far as reparation is concerned, we meet a twist in the anticipated language: it is we who are detailed as enemies, not God. If propitiation is implied in the sacrificial language, it is thereby also qualified. In this complex picture, Christ is bound up with us—both in creation and in the new creation—so that we are presented as a holy and perfect sacrifice to the Father. Christ’s sacrifice, then, is both substitutionary and representative. Again, this Christ-hymn suggests more than a mere restoration of the creation, but a remaking—dare we say a revolution? The firstborn from the dead, the Head over the Church, forges a previously unthinkable unity between heaven and earth. Given the absolute language concerning the scope of Christ’s recapitulation and service pro nobis, we may be surprised to see that the apostle ends with a qualification: ‘so long as you remain . . .’. The atonement is accomplished, but not automatic. Even while Christ’s victory is declared, the apostle calls for apostolic action and the steadfast response of those who have been so securely established.
4. Redemption and the Other Rs (Galatians 3.13–14; 3.23—4:6)
These same themes present themselves in our passage from Galatians, in different combinations and concentrations. Dikaiosynē is frequently connected with Galatians, but here, other ideas dominate:
13 Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law, when he became a curse for us (for it is written, ‘Cursed be everyone who hangs upon wood’) 14 so that the blessing of Abraham might come upon the Gentiles in Christ Jesus, that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith (or faithfulness)….
23 But before the coming of Faith, we were hedged around by Law, kept under restraint until the time that Faith was unveiled. 24 For this reason, the Law was our custodian until Christ came, that we might be “righteoused” because of Faith. 25 But now that Faith has come, we are no longer under a custodian; 26 for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through Faith.
27 For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. 28 There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, neither is there male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. 29 And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s seed, heirs according to the promise.
4.1 I am saying that the heir, as long as he is a child, is no better than a slave, though he is the master of everything;2 but he is under guardians and trustees until the time appointed by his father.3 So also it is with us; when we were children, we were enslaved to the elemental spirits of the cosmos. 4 But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the Law—5 so that he might redeem those who were under the Law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.6 But because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father” (Gal 3:23—4:6).[17]
In this passage, we have, cheek-by-jowl, the language of
- Redemption (v. 13a, implied in the slavery-metaphor of 4.1, and reiterated at 4.5),
- Reparatory sacrifice as Christ becomes accursed (v. 13b),
- Rescue from imprisonment (implied by the phrase ‘under restraint’ in v. 23),
- Righteousness (v. 24),
- Recapitulation (of both humanity and Israel, 4.4), and
- ‘Revolution’ (vv. 27–28 radically qualify the categories of the original creation)
Redemption is the controlling category here. The apostle begins and ends with slave-language: ‘Christ redeemed us’ (3.13); ‘so that he might redeem those who were under the Law’ (4.5). For the sake of his argument, the apostle applies this language of bondage and being bought back to Israel, though her members possessed, as children, the promise of inheritance. A minor child is no more an autonomous agent than a slave: Paul does not have to clarify, when he can casts the Torah in the role of custodian, that he also has in mind the more hostile elemental spirits under whom the Gentiles were suppressed before their rescue.
Intertwined with redemption is rescue from imprisonment. The Jewish people, consigned to a Rapunzel-like existence, need a liberator as much as the Gentiles who are imprisoned by their idolatrous ignorance. In this dual situation, there is neither slave nor free—for those who are enslaved will be freed, and those who think they are free are in fact enslaved until the time has fully come. Indeed, the very liberation of the minor sons is bound up with the enfranchisement of the Gentiles, promised to Abraham. So the apostle speaks both of the establishment of the Jewish believers in sonship, and the inclusion of Gentile believers. Together, the unified community cries, ‘Abba! Father!’ As the blessed Augustine reminds us, ‘[W]e see that [Paul] has elegantly, and not without reason, put together words from two languages signifying the same thing because of the whole people, which has been called from Jews and Gentiles into the unity of the faith’ (Augustine, Galatians, 31; 1B.4.6, Migne PL 35.2127). Redemption and rescue issue in adoption and a previously unimagined unity within a single ‘Christly’ family.
Embedded within this series of metaphors is the language of reparatory and substitutionary sacrifice: redemption from the curse . . . that we might receive the blessing (3.13–14). ‘He became a curse for us’ (3.13) deftly recalls the plight of all humankind (the curse upon the ground and child-bearing), ‘the curse and oath which are written in the Law of Moses’ (cf. Daniel 9.11, cf. Deuteronomy 11.26,), and the duo of sacrificial animal and banished scapegoat, who together assume the curse of death and sin. The colorful word katara (‘curse’), the participle genomenos (‘becoming’), and the little phrase hyper hymōn (‘for us’) speak poignantly of ‘curse’ being exchanged for ‘blessing.’ Telling is the interplay between the beneficiaries in verses thirteen and fourteen Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law, when he became a curse for us . . . so that the blessing of Abraham might come upon the Gentiles in Christ Jesus, that we might receive the promise of the Spirit. It seems that the first ‘us’ denotes Jewish believers under Torah, the second reference is to the Gentiles, and the third ‘us’ implies the entire community.
By rephrasing Romans 3.23, St John Chrysostom explains the universal aspect of blessing and curse in our passage: ‘All have sinned and are under a curse.’ He explains that in Galatians, St Paul does not immediately articulate this assumption, ‘in case he should seem to be running ahead of his own demonstration’ (Com. Gal. 3:11),[18] which is to stress the curse of the Law. ‘Ambrosiaster,’ that elusive fourth-century Latin commentator, stresses penal substitution: ‘[A]ll were convicted by the curse of the law, so that it was right to punish them. But Christ, born as a man and offered for us by his Father, redeemed us from the devil. He was offered for those who were liable to the curse of the law. Jesus was made a curse in the way that under the law a victim offered for sin is said to be sin . . . Thus [St Paul] did not say “cursed for us” but made a curse’ (Ep. to Galatians 3:13.1-2; CSEL 81.3:34–35). Lest we think that this is wholly a Western view, we return to Chrysostom, who takes his cue from Deuteronomy 27.26 to explain the curse that attends the non-fulfillment of Torah. He is, however, more circumspect than Ambrosiaster in his explanation, using the language of exchange, and coupling sin with the problem of death:
For the people were liable, since they had not fulfilled the whole law, but Christ took upon himself a different curse, ‘Cursed is everyone that hangs on a tree.’ Since both the one who is hanged and the one who transgresses the Law are accursed, Christ, who was going to lift that curse, could not properly be made liable to it yet had to receive a curse in its place. He received the curse instead of being liable to it and through this lifted the curse. Just as, when someone is condemned to death, another innocent person who chooses to die for him releases him from that retribution, so Christ also did. For he did no sin . . . Even as by dying he rescued from death those who were going to die, so also when he received the curse he freed them from the curse. (Hom Gal. 3:13)
(By the way, those of you who are using that helpful florilegia, the Ancient Christian Commentary, should be aware that its translation of this passage attributes much more ‘penal’ language to Chrysostom than he actually uses. In a stricter translation such as I have offered, the motif is found once in the word for ‘penalty’ or ‘retribution.’) The cumulative effect of St John’s commentary is to move us to awe concerning Christ’s exchange. St Gregory the Theologian registers the same amazement, and speaks of the Suffering Servant ‘taking up our transgressions and bearing our sicknesses’ (Letter 101.61).
We return to our passage in Galatians. We may be surprised, given the context of this particular letter, which combats the Judaizers, to see that here the themes of righteousness and recapitulation are only briefly registered. Verse 24 declares: ‘For this reason, the Law was our custodian until Christ came, that we might be “righteoused” because of Faith.’ Hedging my bets, I adopt Sanders’s neologism: does the apostle mean ‘declared’ or ‘rendered righteous?’ Is this merely a law-court metaphor, acquitting those under the curse? Or, is there a clue to the new character of the one in Christ as well, since in verse eleven we have heard (via Deuteronomy) of the righteous (not merely those who are declared righteous) who live by faith? I want to leave both paths open to us, as I think the apostle does. (Mike Bird’s term, ‘incorporated righteousness,’ is helpful).[19] Surely, the full meaning of dikaiosynē takes its colour here from the ideas that surround it—adoption, inheritance, and participation as sons who, in Christ, become like their Father. The immersion of the Son into our world as a Recapitulation is suggested by 4.4: ‘But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the Law.’ Jesus is both the new Adam, born of a woman, and the New Israel, born under the Law. Indeed, he is the One who has long been promised, ‘as the apostle has shown at great length,’ comments Chrysostom, by mentioning Abraham and his seed (4.4–5). This One comes when the time is right, becoming at home in human time and space, to redeem it. St Ambrose comments ‘He was made from a woman by assuming flesh and made under the law by observing the law’ (On the Faith 1.14). Theodoret remarks, ‘[St Paul] has linked the sending of the eternal Son with the Incarnation’ (Epistle to the Galatians 4.4–5). And St John the Golden-Mouthed marvels: ‘Here [the apostle] states two . . . effects of the Incarnation: deliverance from the curse of the Law, and promotion to sonship’ (Comm on Gal. 4.4–5).
St John’s joy leads us to the final R, Revolutionary Recreation. Throughout his commentary on these verses, the Golden-Mouthed turns his wide eyes upon the new state in which believers find themselves. He notes that the apostle must use two different ways of explaining this overturning of things—we have both ‘put on Christ’ and ‘been made sons’ (4.4–5). The sign of the revolution is that we now together, having been freed, clothed, and adopted, can call God ‘Father.’ The division between Jew and Gentile has been reversed, the separation between humanity and God has been repaired, and the relation between the faithful and God has been rendered surprisingly intimate. St John expostulates:
Oh my! How mighty is the power of Faith, and the way that, when He makes his procession, he reveals this power . . . See what an insatiable soul [the apostle has]! . . . He does not stop [with the picture of adoption], but tries to find something greater, which may serve to express an even closer oneness with Christ . . . ‘You are all One in Christ Jesus,’ that is, you have all one form and one mould—that of Christ. What could give us chills of wonder more than these words? The one who yesterday was a Greek, or a Jew, or a slave, goes around, possessing the form not of an angel or archangel, but of the Lord of all, and in his [or her] very being shows forth Christ! (Comm Gal. 3.24–28).
To St John’s wonder, we add that of Marius Victorinus, whose neo-Platonic tendencies do not blind him to the concerted effort of the Godhead: ‘For . . . the Father sent his own Son, who himself . . . sent the Spirit.’ (Ep. Gal 2.4.6). The remarks of these ancients disclose how this passage, though concentrating upon the idea of redemption from slavery, flows between various metaphorical systems, and assumes the integrity of the Crucifixion, the Incarnation and future glory.
5. Reconciliation, the Other Rs and the Righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5.14–21)
We finish with the controverted text of 2 Corinthians 5.14–21. So much has been written on this, as I have noted elsewhere,[20] that it is perhaps imprudent to co-opt it only briefly for our purposes. Here I cannot enter into all the fraught issues, but will show its special contribution to our study of Pauline atonement, and how the ancient commentators construed its mysteries. The apostle’s larger argument, which begins with thanksgiving at 2.14 and ends in joy at 7.4, runs the gamut of human expression and emotion, while it builds on a foundation of theological, Christological, pneumatological, soteriological and ecclesial concepts. More proximate to our smaller passage are the themes of resurrection (5.1–9), judgment (5.10–11) and cooperation with God’s grace (passim chapter five). St Paul’s focus in verses 14–21 is upon the primary and ongoing reconciling actions of God in Christ, the apostles, and in his body, the Church:
14For the love of Christ constrains us, because we have decided this: that One died on behalf of all, therefore all have died. 15And He died on behalf of all, so that those who are living would live not only for themselves, but for Him who died and was raised on their behalf. 16Therefore, we no longer know anyone ‘according to the flesh.” And if once we also knew Christ according to the flesh, now we know longer know Him in that way. 17For if anyone is in Christ—new creation! The old has gone its way, and behold, all is new! 18 But all these things are from God who in Christ reconciled us to Himself, giving us the ministry of reconciliation. 19 That is to say, God was in Christ reconciling the cosmos to Himself, not accounting their trespasses against them, and establishing among us the word of reconciliation.20 Therefore, on behalf of Christ, we act as ambassadors, as though God were making an entreaty through us: We beg you, on Christ’s behalf, be reconciled to God! 21 For the One who did not know sin, on our behalf He made to be sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.
This passage is a prime example of the call for Christians to become, as Michael Gorman puts it, ‘cruciform:’ we, who have died in Christ, are to live no longer for ourselves! Similarly, the representative nature of Jesus’ death is stressed, as Ben Blackwell points out, in the statement of verse fourteen, ‘therefore all have died’[21]—though he thinks it may suggest substitution as well. I would myself go further: substitution is required by the detail supplied by the apostle, that Jesus knew no sin. His death is deliberate, and far deeper than ours! As with our earlier passages, however, the substitution does not imply a pagan notion of propitiation: it is we who must be reconciled, for God is not reluctantly moved to mercy, but entreats us. If the dominant metaphor of the passage in Colossians is Recapitulation, and that of Galatians 3 is Redemption, the dominant idea here is Reconciliation. But all the other pictures, with the exception of Redemption from slavery, are gathered up under that major theme: Rescue from death, Reparation for sin, Righteous status (or character) in exchange for guilt, Recapitulation, and Revolution (a new creation).
The most evocative verse is 5.21, about which Ben Blackwell ruefully remarks that ‘virtually every aspect . . . is debated.’[22] Commentators, past and present, expound this verse in parallel with Romans 8.3 (‘in the likeness of the flesh of sin’) and Galatians 3.13 (‘becoming a curse for our sake.’) Ancient debates centered around the shock of calling Jesus ‘sin;’ contemporary debates have revolved around ‘the righteousness of God.’ Many Eastern fathers join the idea of ‘becoming sin’ with Christ’s taking on of humanity, including our death; St Cyril of Alexandria, however, resorts to the sacrificial offerings of twin goats and birds of Leviticus 14 and 16, in order to expound the passage![23] I would remark that the idea of sacrifice and assumption of humanity need not be mutually exclusive: indeed, the Christ-hymn of Philippians and many Church Fathers depict Incarnation as a sacrifice which finds its nadir (or apex!) in the Cross (and the descent to Hades). As for our ‘becoming righteousness,’ it connotes something deeper than a forensic situation, though it seems unlikely that the phrase is wholly divorced from the specter of judgement. St Paul has already invoked the judgment seat (5:10) and a God who has not [yet] ‘accounted sin’ (5.19). But the apostle goes beyond envisioning us as ‘righteoused’—whether this is a status or a state. St John Chrysostom rejoices in a patristic parallel to the Passover cry, Dayenu!—‘it would have been enough:’
Had He achieved nothing else but only done this, think what great a thing it would have been to give His Son . . . But [the apostle] mentioned that which is far greater than this . . . Reflect therefore how great the things are that He bestowed on you . . . ‘For the righteous,’ he says, ‘He made a sinner; that He might make the sinners righteous.’ But he doesn’t say it that way, Indeed he says something far greater . . . He does not say ‘made [Him] a sinner,’ but ‘sin;’ and not only ‘He who had not sinned,’ but ‘He who had not even known sin,’ that we also ‘might become’ (he does not say ‘righteous,’ but) ‘righteousness,’ and ‘the righteousness of God.’ (Hom 2 Cor. 11.5)
We hear of depth of the exchange, and also the unforeseen results—not only that the condemned might be ‘saved’ and ‘cleared’ but that they might be ‘subsequently promoted to great dignity’ and ‘advanced . . . to that glory unspeakable’ (Hom 2 Cor. 11.5).
At stake in interpretation is the identity of the ‘we;’ is it exclusively apostolic, or does it at some points embrace the entire believing community? On analogy with the flexibility that we have seen in Colossians, I would argue the latter. The apostle has been speaking of trespasses and future resurrection, common to humanity. Moreover, he glosses verse eighteen by verse nineteen: ‘giving us the ministry of reconciliation’ means ‘establishing among us the word of reconciliation.’ The ‘word’ is established among believers as a whole (not simply among the apostles), and its effect is cosmic in scope! It is unlikely, then, that ‘becoming the righteousness of God’ is the prerogative only of the apostles. Further, with the Golden-Mouthed, we must note how the apostle’s language is so extravagant, the exchange so stark: the passage cannot simply be about forensic justification. It is about the revolution that has taken place, and how God accomplished it. Christ was not made sin that we could be cleared from sin; Christ was not made sin that we might be considered or made righteous human beings; Christ was not made sin that the apostles might have a cruciform ministry. No, at 5.21, we glimpse the glory of what human beings are meant to ‘become.’ This exception proves the well-taken rule of Wright. God’s righteousness is his very own—unless He invites human beings into glory through the Son. All the other things ‘would have been enough’ to show God’s justice and mercy—but there is more. We are to become the righteousness of God!
6. Gathering the Threads
This conjunction of recapitulation with substitution, redemption with adoption, reconciliation with sacrifice, death with life, humiliation with divine glory, is surprisingly summed up for us in one of St John Chrysostom’s meaty (and, alas, untranslated!) sermons. In his exposition of the Ascension of the Lord, he ties together all the episodes in Christ’s actions for us, showing that a revolution—the theōsis of the faithful—has begun. Though he would no doubt agree with Tom Wright that something wonderful had been accomplished by six o’clock on Good Friday,[24] the entire God-directed action, up to the Ascension, is in view. So, too, are the many Scriptures that he enlists in encouraging us to offer our thanksgiving: our three passages, but also Romans, Hebrews, Luke-Acts, Genesis, Psalms and Isaiah:
So that you may learn that [God] did not hate our nature, but that he was turning away evil … [remember that] we who appeared to be unworthy of the earth, were this day [through his Ascension] brought up to the heavens. For we, who from the beginning were not even worthy of what was below, have come up to the kingdom on high; we have gone beyond the heavens; we have grasped hold of the royal throne.
Even that very [human] nature, on account of which the Cherubim had to guard Paradise, this day is seated above the Cherubim! But how has this great wonder happened? How did we who were stricken—who appeared unworthy of the earth and were banished below from the earliest ages—how did we come up to such a height? How was the battle destroyed and how was the wrath lifted? How?
For this is the wonderful thing: that it wasn’t we who had grown unjustly angry with God who made the appeal, but that One who was justly vexed, who called us to his side, who entreated us, so that there was peace. ‘For on Christ’s behalf we are ambassadors, as though God were entreating you through us.’
What is this? Is the One who is himself abused the very same One who encourages? Indeed, yes! For he is God and, because of this, our philanthropic Father entreats us. And look what happened! The Son of the One who is making the appeal is the mediator—not a human, nor an angel, nor an archangel, nor anyone of the household slaves.
And what did this mediator do? The work of a mediator! For it is as if two had been turned away from each other and since they were not willing to talk together, another one comes, and, placing himself in the middle, loosens the hostility of each of the two. And this is also what Christ did. God was angry with us, for we were turning away from God, our human-loving Master. Christ, by putting himself in the middle, exchanged and reconciled each nature to the other. And how did he put himself in the middle? He himself took on the punishment that was due to us from the Father and endured both the punishment from there and the reproaches from here.
Do you want to know how he welcomed each? Christ, Paul says, ‘redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us.’ You have seen how he received from on high the punishment that had to be borne! Look how also from below he received the insults that had to be borne: ‘The reproaches of those who reproached you,’ Scripture says, ‘have fallen upon me.’ Haven’t you seen how he dissolved the enmity, how he did not depart before doing all, both suffering and completing the whole business, until he brought up the one who was both hostile and at war—brought that one up to God himself, and he made him a friend?
And of these good things, this very day is the foundation. Receiving, as it were, the first fruits of our nature, he bore it up in this way to the Master. And indeed just as it happens in the case of plains that bear ears of corn, it happens here. Somebody takes a few ears, and making a little handful, offers it to God, so that because of the little amount, he blesses the whole land. Christ also did this: through that one flesh and ‘first-fruits’ he made to be blessed our [whole] race . . . Therefore he offered up the first-fruits of our nature to the Father, and the Father was so amazed with the offering, both because of the worthiness of the One who offered and because of the blamelessness of the offering, that he received the gift with his hands that belonged, as it were, to the same household as the Son. And he placed the Offering close to himself, saying, ‘Sit at my right hand!’
(In Ascensionem D.N.J.C., Migne PG 50, 444–46)[25]
This splendid sermon, like our chosen passages from the apostle Paul, lends no support to those who drive a wedge between Christus Victor and sacrificial or forensic notions of the atonement. Here, the ideas of reconciliation and renewed friendship are the controlling ones, since the Golden-Mouthed has evidently taken his point of departure in describing atonement from 2 Corinthians 5.20: God entreats us. But this generous and active God enfolds us by all the other Rs in St John’s explanation of how the reconciliation has taken place—except for Redemption, which he amply expounds in other sermons.
In this passage, we begin with our unworthiness of Christ’s ascended glory, hear the Father’s appeal, gaze upon the God-Man in the middle as He receives punishment and scorn on the cross, and rejoice in his triumph, where he presents us to the Father as a blameless thank-offering. All this both fulfills the Old Testament sacrifices, and confirms their inadequacy to deal with God’s anger over sin. ‘God was angry with us, the human-loving Lord’ so that an ‘exchange’ of natures was necessary—something only the God-Man could accomplish. We need not follow that influential French theologian, who (unfortunately) reads Chrysostom’s sermon by way of Leo’s Latin translation, which emphasizes ‘appeasing the Father’[26] by sacrifice. This crude view of propitiation is enjoined neither by St John Chrysostom nor the apostle Paul, his source. Instead, Jesus’ priestly nature is connected by the Golden-Mouthed without embarrassment to the Creation, Fall, Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension, and promises divine glory, or theōsis, to those who are in Him. Sacrificial death is the necessary shape that His divine priestly service takes in a fallen world: but His service is not something super-added. Instead it is indicative of the very nature of Son, who eternally defers to the Father and who willingly ‘will also be subjected to’ the Father at the end (1 Corinthians 15.28). All this is so that God may be present in everything to everyone. We hope for nothing less than a total atonement, by means of Recapitulation, Reparation for sin, Representative substitution, Redemption, Rescue, Reconciliation, Righteousness, and Revolutionary Recreation, or Theōsis!
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[1] I will refer particularly to Colossians 1.13–23, Galatians 3.13–14, 23—4.6 and 2 Corinthians 5.14–21. Certainly other passages could have been chosen from these epistles in order to demonstrate the apostle’s wide use of metaphorical language to explain the atonement. One thinks particularly of the thematic treatment of these and other passages, especially Romans 3, in Fee 2005, or the masterful treatments of Romans 8 and Colossians 2 (the latter particularly in terms of Christus Victor over the powers) in Wright 2016. My passages are selected because they densely combine the metaphors, and because the patristic commentators treat them in interesting ways. To fill out carefully the meaning and inter-relationships of the various metaphors would require a concentration upon other passages, both in Paul’s letters and in the patristic reception of them.
[2] I refer to The Day the Revolution Began, which provides yet another example of our friend N. T. Wright’s bracing and faithful readings of the New Testament. My own steady attention to the ‘multi-coloured’ wisdom of God as seen in the apostle Paul’s letters was first nurtured by my perceptive mentor, Tom Wright, who during my graduate days opened up the riches that I had missed in my formative Salvation Army context. I offer these reflections, some of which may well go in different directions from his own, with profound gratitude, and in the hope of further discussion of how God has acted for us in Christ Jesus.
[3] Gorman 2011 details the epistle of Romans, but includes (on page 15) a brief comment on 2 Corinthians 5.21, where he notes the ‘seamlessly interwoven’ themes of transformation and justification. I will, in this paper, make a friendly amendment that the dikaiosynē theou is not confined to the idea of justification.
[4] Mosser 2005 makes a compelling corrective case, showing how the concept of divinization has not been limited to Eastern theologians, either in the distant or more immediate past.
[5] “Atonement and the Image of God,’ Third Annual Los Angeles Theology Conference on Atonement. The entire argument can be heard in his lecture, available at the site below (Accessed December 2019). I have presented only a brief summary that does not do justice to his argument. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzdgDdZkSOY&feature=youtu.be
[6] Ibid
[7] Hart 1998.
[8] Meyendorff 1974, 146.
[9] Breck 2006.
[10] Baker 2016, 125.
[11] See Wright 2016a,302, 327–34. It is important to clarify that Wright does not deny the importance of substitutionary sacrifice as an important facet of the atonement. His argument about the meaning of hilastērion in Romans 3:24–26 is more fully explicated in Wright 2016b. Using a pincer movement in moving forwards from Romans 2 and backwards from Romans 4, he contends (2016b, 153) that it is mistaken to take hilastērion in Romans 3 according to the ‘distantly possible sense of “a means of propitiation,”’ though substitutionary sacrifice (always to be balanced with representation) is to be found elsewhere in the New Testament. My friend and I may disagree about the nuances of Romans 3.24, but we are in accord concerning the person of Jesus as the place where God and humanity meet, about the importance of his death as both substitutionary and representative, and about the prominence of Jesus as Victor in the New Testament.
[12] Amos is a complex situation, where the Hebrew refers to “knobs,” but the LXX has rendered this hilastērion. In Ezekiel, the reference is to the steps of the altar. 4 Maccabees more obviously connects the Greek word with death, blood and sacrifice.
[13] It is accepted, however, by the Georgian Orthodox community. In 4 Maccabees, the narrator comments that the martyrdom was undertaken by those ‘consecrated for God … having become, so to speak, a life-exchange (antipsychon) for the sin of our nation … and an atoning sacrifice (tou hilastēriou) through their blood … and death’ (17.21–22). Even here, where there are no qualms in describing martyrdom as ritual slaughter, this element is advanced with the qualifier hōsper (‘so to speak’). After all, the holy martyr is not simply a holocaust to avert God’s wrath, but a participant who ‘dies for the sake of God’ and ‘lives in God.’ Even where the vicarious aspect of martyrdom is fully registered, God is not finally depicted as a punishing exactor, but as the creating and resurrecting One in whom martyrs retain hope as they engage in a ‘divine’ contest (17.11–16), showing the character of God, by consecrated deaths.
[14] Wright 2016,416.
[15] Wright 2016, 415–6.
[16] The translation is my own: I have left in the verse numbers for reference, and put in bold the terms or phrases that indicate underlying stories or pictures of atonement.
[17] Again, the translation is my own, and the pertinent words/phrases are in bold. For the sake of simplicity, I have elided verses 15–22. These omitted verses are utterly important in showing St Paul’s understanding of the Law and its relation to Christ, but are not necessary in demonstrating the dominance of redemption language here, coupled with the variety of ways in which he has pictured atonement.
[18] Here and elsewhere when citing St John Chrystostom, I offer my own translation, using Migne’s PG.
[19] As in, for example, Bird2004.
[20] Humphrey 2017.
[21] Blackwell 2010, 203. I am pleased to have endorsed the recent publication of this very helpful thesis as a book, and documented in the works cited at the end of this paper.
[22] Ibid., 207.
[23] See especially sections 10–15 of his Letter 41 to Acacius of Meliteni (FC 76:168-182). His purpose is to expound on the dual natures of Christ, but he does not shy away from a sacrificial analogy in doing so. This, presumably, he considers to be the literal meaning of the text—that Christ, in being ‘named sin,’ was made an atoning sacrifice, and that this shows his semblance to the sacrificed animals, who are shown to us in pairs.
[24] Wright 2016, passim.
[25] The translation is original. I gratefully acknowledge the help of my colleague Robert Gagnon in dealing with the translational subtleties of this difficult passage, which is nowhere, so far as I have been able to discover, available in English.
[26] Migne PL 54, 1183 is followed by De la Taille 1940, 254.