Lent 4 C: The Prodigal God
Dear Partner in Preaching,
I found our exchange in the comments last week kind of fascinating. You probably don’t read the comments, so I’ll recap briefly. The exchange centered on how we understand the cross and was prompted by a statement I made that “the cross is not about punishment for sin.” Several folks questioned that, referencing Anselm’s substitutionary theory of atonement and the attendant Scriptural passages associated with it. I’ll say up front that I appreciated the conversation and the spirit in which we engaged. And I want also to say that Anselm’s view – echoed later by Thomas Aquinas, John Calvin, and Reformed theologians in North America – is one of the primary ways the Church, particularly in the West, has understood the cross and, indeed, is perhaps the dominant view today.
And yet all that notwithstanding, I have to say I find it utterly unconvincing and, indeed, rather off-putting and out of character with the God I know in Jesus. And this week’s parable helps me name why.
Anselm’s theory, to be brief, revolves around two conflicting impulses in God and how the cross solves what seems like an insurmountable dilemma. Because God is just, God must punish human sin. But because God is loving, God doesn’t want to punish humanity, let alone condemn us to hell. Enter Jesus, whom Anselm described as “the God-man.” Because Jesus is human, he can represent us before God and so God can punish Jesus instead of us. Because Jesus is God, his sacrifice is an equal exchange for all the sins we will ever commit.
I won’t go into all the reasons that I’m not wild about this theory, but two stand out. First, I don’t understand why God has to punish at all. Can’t God just forgive? We all do that all that time. Indeed, if “payment” has been made, then it seems inaccurate to call what God does forgiveness. Convenient, yes, but not forgiving. Second, I think this configuration pits divine love against divine justice and, frankly, justice wins out as it must be satisfied by suspending love for Jesus on the cross. Okay, enough. I realize others will disagree, and that’s fine.
What I find actually more fascinating than the theory – or objections to it – is the question of why it has such a hold on our theological imagination. And I think today’s famous parable explains helps to explain that.
We’re used to focusing on the younger son, I realize, often identifying with his taking off on his own, realizing he screwed up, and being overwhelmed by grace. It’s a classic story of forgiveness and repentance. (Actually, I’m not so sure it is, as I can’t tell whether he’s actually repentant or just conning his old man one more time, but that’s another story.)
But today I also want to focus on the other half of the story, the exchange between the landowner and his elder son. In fact, I’ve wondered if this parable sheds light on two very different reactions to grace. One – when you are totally down and out – is to receive it with surprise and delight. The other – when you have been working hard and trying your best – can be rather resentful, as it seems like it makes all your efforts overlooked at best and perhaps even worthless.
And I think these two responses reflect two dimensions of ourselves. One dimension – that of the elder son – reflects our life in the world and our need to keep track of things. To count, to make sure things add up, to quantify and measure and compare and the like. And all this counting is not for its own sake, but is in service of a larger goal: fairness. We track things not because we often need to, but to keep things fair, to make sure things are running right, and out of a concern for equity.
I think this is what makes the view of the cross as substitutionary punishment appealing – it all adds up. We have sin that demands punishment. Jesus is righteous and can take that punishment for us. God’s justice is upheld and, indeed, the whole thing is set in motion because God loves us and doesn’t want to have to punish us at all. This theory makes sense. God’s righteous anger at sin is satisfied and God’s love for humanity is also satisfied in that God didn’t have to condemn humans to a payment we could never make and punishment we could not endure. It is, in short, an accountant’s dream.
But as important as counting is, sometimes it just doesn’t work. Especially in relationships. I mean, imagine counting every good thing someone did for you and using that to judge how much they love you. Or imagine keeping track of every unhelpful or hurtful thing people in your life do to you and demanding payment. (Worse, imagine them demanding payment from you for your mistakes!)
It just doesn’t work. And so the landowner in Jesus’ parable does something landowners never do. He runs out to meet his wayward son the minute he spies him coming from afar. He doesn’t send a servant. He doesn’t wait for his son to come. He dashes down the road like no respectable landowner ever would, making a complete fool of himself. Why in the world, after all, would he be so eager to see a son who claimed his inheritance early (which is kind of like he said he couldn’t wait for his dad to be dead) and then wasted it all. Not only that, he doesn’t even give his son a chance to explain or repent but interrupts his sincere (or maybe half-baked, it doesn’t really matter) speech but instead embraces and restores him immediately. Trust me, all the other landowners will be talking about his ridiculous and demeaning behavior at the first-century equivalent of the Lion’s Club that week. But this landowner doesn’t care because he’s a parent before he’s a landowner and so he doesn’t count all the wrongs his son has done him but only tries to count his lucky and innumerable stars when his son comes back.
And if that’s not enough, he then does something a landowner would never do yet a second time when he goes out to speak to his elder son. He doesn’t call his son inside. He doesn’t relay a message by a servant. He goes out to plead with his son to come into the party. What should have been a command performance, in other words, turns into an embarrassing occasion where the landowner must beg his son to obedience. And all those who see him behave as no self-respecting landowner will be talking about this as well. But he doesn’t care, because before he’s a respectable landowner, he’s a parent who loves both his children more than anyone can measure.
And that’s when counting breaks down. When you love so much there is no scale adequate to calculate your devotion. The elder son, he counts, and you can hear his ill-fated calculations saturating everything he says: “all these years…,” “you never…,” “This son of yours….” But the landowner – I mean, father – doesn’t. Can’t. Love like this, you see, cannot be measured, tracked, or managed.
Which his why I think the cross is not a means of payment but rather shows us just how far our prodigal God will go to tell us of God’s immeasurable love. Period.
So wherever you stand on various theories of atonement, in the end, Dear Partner, tell your people this week that God loves them – fiercely, vulnerably, courageously…and unendingly. Whether they have wasted opportunity after opportunity or have been quietly working away faithfully and wondering when they’ll be noticed, God loves them. Whether they have welcomed others who are down and out or have judged others for not measuring up, God loves them. Whether they think this news is the best in the world or barely notice it, yet God loves them. Whether they’re in the church reluctantly or with joy, whether they have had a lifelong relationship with God, have just come to know God, or aren’t even sure God really exists, yet God loves them…truly, madly, and deeply.
Ultimately, Dear Partner, leave all the atonement stuff behind and just preach this, God’s unending and immeasurable love. And if you do, you’ll discover that while it may seem a rather simple message, for so many of your folks it’s just the word they need to hear. Thank you. Even more, thank God for you.
Yours in Christ,
David
Post image: “The Return of the Prodigal Son,” by James Tissot, 1862.
Thank you once again David for nailing the core! I appreciate your weekly comments and want you to know that God loves you too! (Just in case no one has told you lately!)
See you in Canada this week.
I’ve been thinking that the cross is the bare naked exposition of the extent power will go to maintain its own grip on others. It is the ultimate evil done by humanity against itself. I believe the empty tomb is God’s answer to that, and our hope that the kingdom of death, to quote Douglas John Hall, is not the answer. Jesus’ parable known as the prodigal son is his way of showing us that we can leave our chosen tombs and come back to God, where we have always been loved and are again welcomed with open arms. Atonement theories aside, can it really be that simple, and yet so difficult for us to do?
I often wondered if Jesus identified with the younger son. He leaves his father’s house to live in a foreign land. He associates with prostitutes and sinners. He feels so lonely and homesick that he longs to feel the void with that which will not satisfy. Finally he begins his journey home having violated all the traditional Jewish rules of cleanliness. A good Jewish boy might wonder what his reception might be like. It also speaks volumes about Jesus’ ability to stand in solidarity with us, his compassion for our situation, and an uncanny ability to understand us.The older son also can be seen as our desire to remake Jesus in our image, wanting our brand of justice, not the father’s.It is interesting how the Father responds to both sons, knowing both boy’s hearts.
John Vonnorsdall wrote a collection of sermons called, “Dimly Burning Wicks: Reflection On The Gospel After a Time Away. AugsbergFortess 1982. In there he had a sermon about the elder son called, “Gold Watch People.” I used his idea in a sermon. The elder sons/daughters in the congregation thanked me.
Thanks for another great reflection. The realities of forgiveness and grace are not easily accepted or understood, let alone enacted. This reminds me of something I read recently. A small group study I’m leading right now is focused on Philip Yancey’s “What’s So Amazing About Grace.” With regard to this parable Yancey writes: In the story of the Prodigal Son, provocatively, Jesus brought int he older brother to voice proper outrage at his father for regarding irresponsible behavior. What kind of ‘family values’ would his father communicate by throwing a party for such a renegade? What kid of virtue would that encourage?” To which he references a footnote: “The contemporary preacher Fred Craddock one tinkered with the details of the parable to make just this point. In a sermon, he had the father slip the ring and robe on the “elder” brother, then kill the fatted calf in honor of his years of faithfulness and obedience. A woman in the back of the sanctuary yelled out, ‘That’s the way it “should” have been written.!'” (p. 54, emphasis original)
The Parables of the Lost are directed toward the Elder Son folk, namely the Pharisees, who at the beginning of the chapter condemn Jesus for his table hospitality with sinners. I think we have too often focused on the ‘lost’ aspects of these parables and missed the larger point that forgiveness is offensive, especially if we ‘need no forgiveness.’ Here is a poetic offering from the point of view of Song of the Elder Son – by Kenn Storck
Song of the Elder Son
“Ban all Muslims!
Walls not bridges!”
This is the new creed
of the right religious.
“Tribes arise
and claim your land.
After all it is
your promised Canaan.”
“Divine destiny,
we are exceptional.
Pride is our guide.
Winners take all!”
“Losers denied.
Are less than alive.
Users of the rich
have their little niche.”
Grumblings and murmur,
religious one’s fervor
when the lost get found,
nothing but frowns.
Bridge:
Socialism leaves the 99 to save one.
Capitalism sells all for a large sum,
and nine silver coins
are better than none
and one faithful son
should have all the fun.
(Verses continue)
Parables of the Lost
were spoken to those
who need no cross
who snub their nose
to forgiveness and compassion
which they do not need.
Self-aggrandizement their passion
“I did it my way!” their creed.
How does love break
such hearts of stone
living in fear
outside, alone?
“Father, forgive them.
They know not what they do.”
Is the open door
maybe they’ll walk through.
Copyright @A Poem a Sunday
May be reproduced with permission kennstorck@gmail.com
Thank you, I know which I prefer, the total unconditional love. I think most people today relate best to relational love. I recall learning Anselm’s theory and one thing that stuck with me is that we must see historical theology as a reflection of its times using frames of reference that related to the people and culture of its day. We then need theology we can understand and accept today. The lavish love and unconditional forgiveness seems a very fitting picture of God to me.
Anne,
Well put. ‘Theologies’ have to be understood in their historical context.
John 16:12-15New International Version (NIV)
12 “I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. 13 But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth.
Humans cannot understand (or appreciate) the love of God, let alone each other!
I have come to the view that it is we, humanity, that demand fairness and payment for sin/mistakes, but that God doesn’t need a sacrifice. Jesus’ willingness to go all the way, to accept the consequences of his message, shows us that there is no limit beyond which God will not go to help us. His resurrection shows me that love is stronger than death. Re: the elder son, I am reminded of a short story by Flannery O’Connor. In the last scene the bitter resentful main character has a vision in the sunset of people going into heaven. First the “trash” –the undeserving as she sees them– go in. Only later do the people like herself who have tried to live right go in to heaven. One of the last sentences is something like “even their virtues burned away.”
Thank you David,
I have struggled with the notion of substitutionary atonement for a long time. I find it shallow and more reflective of our distorted sense of justice than the God I meet in Jesus. I too believe the cross is about the power of love trumping the power of evil in every form. That being said, we should not fear the judgement of God. Judgement is necessary for us to experience and appreciate grace.
Thank you so much for the gift of your reflections and wisdom.
Kit
Thank you so much as always! I remember being in our Soteriology class and having a huge issue with Anselm because of that EXACT reason. I kept seeing a larger structure of honor and shame that God must adhere to, otherwise the theology fell apart. And if God was indeed beholden to some other sort of framework, ANY framework, God ceased to be God and became merely a pawn of some other sort of force, even a simple framework.
This past Sunday, because of those words and the Spirit, I preached on the concept of an unbalanced God and our desire to have a God that punishes bad, rewards good based on the Luke 13:1-9. In it, I ended up using the prodigal’s father, the woman and the lost coin, and the cross itself to show these same points- God doesn’t punish people by throwing them into the wilderness or up on the cross.
I fully resonated with the simple statement you made- the cross isn’t about punishing sins, it’s about us. I didn’t even look at the comments later in the week because I thought it was so plainly and well-stated. It’s about the love God has, not the retribution God must seek, or the honor God must restore. God ‘must’ do nothing. God is God, no? God can do anything God chooses, and God chooses to show the lengths and depths of the love God has for humanity and creation. God chooses to be faithful to us, the wayward, broken humanity.
Thank you for this follow-up piece, because it is just so simple, beautiful, and powerful to proclaim a God of love in a culture that seems to relish at screaming hate every chance it has.
Wondering if you’ve read Amy-Jill Levine’s take on this parable and her take that the start about the father acting unrespectable is a red herring. That said, love how you’ve tied this to the atonement as uncomfortable forgiveness that I saw iin Making Sense of the Cross.
I haven’t seen it but will look for it. Thanks.
I haven’t but will look forward to checking it out. Thanks.
Thanks for reminding me of that great book on my Kindle.
AJ Levine suggests that the most faithful way to interpret this parable is as a parable and not an allegory. She says that the father was acting as any loving father would do: rejoicing that his wayward son had returned home safely. (The father was not being foolish or out of the ordinary; he was acting out of love because he truly missed his son.) She also suggests that the wayward son was not at all repentant but rather hungry, and knew how to some food back at Dad’s house by making a penitential speech. The older son is petulant. The father is in the middle and tries unsuccessfully to convince his son of his privileged status. It’s not an allegory at all. (And especially not one that assumes anti-Jewish tropes in the older brother.) I’m curious what your opinion of this point of view. Thanks.
I haven’t read it, and so can only respond to your summary. I think the larger narrative context sure make it look like the older brother stands precisely in the place of the Pharisees and scribes. Whether that’s a strict allegory or whether it is a parabolic commentary, it’s difficult to avoid the comparison of reactions to the profound grace embodied by the waiting father/Jesus. I don’t think that necessarily makes either Jesus or Luke anti-Jewish, but I do think it reflects both the narrative tension (will the Pharisees and scribes come into the banquet of grace by receiving Jesus?) and the historical tension of the conflict between those Jews and Gentiles who identified as followers of Jesus and those Jews who do not.
Thank you David on trying to get us to think about the problems with “atonement” theology. It seems to me humanity, as far back as we have records, has always had some fascination or need for God(s) to “make things right.” Our suffering sits right in the heart of that need.
For me, love needs NO THEOLOGY! We can talk about it, explain it, analyze it all we want and make creeds and all kinds of theologies about it. However, it takes the EXPERIENCE of love/grace/justice to fully comprehend and appreciate. Otherwise, love is just an abstraction of theology and, I dare say, an ongoing tool of modern day Pharisees to keep a judgmental record of who is doing God and God stuff correctly or not!!!
Any reasonable person knows the bible is chock full of horrible theology and stories about a paranoid God who seems hell bent (pun intended) to force his people to love Him. “TURN OR BURN!!!” If I had to believe these stories, including Paul’s Jewish take on Jesus as a substitution for what God REALLY wants to do with humanity and sin (spoiler…it has NOTHING to do with “forgiveness”), I would be a proud atheist!
Fortunately, we have other stories in the biblical text that offer love trumping current day Trumpism…i.e. an eye for an eye way of believing and living.
I have no need, as I have read some here, to protect the God of the bible, or to have some theological “answer” for His need to have blood, sacrifices, etc, etc. In spite of the title of my degree, “MASTER of DIVINITY,” I know I am NOT God and in no way even begin to think I might have God’s reasons and behaviors sorted out in some violent theology.
I am human. I suffer. I need love and to love. I need understanding and forgiveness. I need to know that no one (or religion) has all the answers. I need dignity and humility. It is my greatest hope that I can love others in a way that is filled with mutual understanding, hope and respect. Again, thanks for standing against theologies of violence that create a God of vengeance rather then love. Pharisees today (as then) want a Report Card…not love.
I can’t thank you enough for your reflections on the scriptures. I hope you realize what a gift you are! Your writings are my “starting point” each week as I prepare my sermon.
Wonderful thoughts. Thank you. With regard to the question of his repentance, the son’s words, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.” seem very much part of Jesus’ message in this story (especially with an audience of Pharisees watching the “sinners”). Had it been a true story, it certainly might have been another con on the part of the son, but as it is a story told by Jesus, it seems more likely that He is offering repentance as a way of opening the door to God’s grace.
Hammer. Head. Nail. Thank you David for so succinctly working us through the shortfalls of atonement theory accounting principles… and for helping us to see the Cross for what it truly is… an expression of God’s unequivocal willingness to sacrifice at all costs out of an unconditional and (for the most part) undeserved love for us. Its not about “balancing scales” (as if there were some cosmic balance sheet that even God is beholden to!) its about a loving God who loves us despite our human frailties… and who invites us to love one another in the way. Blessings to you in your work and in the shared ministry of living out our faith.
Thank you. My thinking about Anselm’s atonement theology matches yours and resonated with my congregation as I preached last week.
Perfect! Couldn’t agree more – I’ve never resonated with Atonement theology. Thanks for putting my thoughts into words!
I really like these ideas, but of course they raise questions for me. If I follow this thought, then Jesus’ death shows us how much God loves us. But how does it do that?
He is not dying on behalf of us, or for us, or instead of us, so I am left with the question of “how does this show us,” or what is the purpose in the death and resurrection of Jesus? The only way I can think about it so far is that Jesus, as a part of God, dies, so a part of God dies willingly just to show us he is willing to do so. And, why does God use this to show us his love?
Responding to Carla: I’ve struggled with this too for many years. I think for me the cross shows what a truly human human being like Jesus will do in a world of structural violence and pain. He bears the suffering. He goes to the cross. He lets us nail him there. We can’t help it; we want to be but we are not yet fully realized human beings. Then when he says, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do”, he shows us the absolute depth of the love of God as it is expressed in such a fully realized human. A divine human. So it’s not substitutionary sacrifice. It’s a divinely beautiful message that nothing in this world, nothing created by humans or meted out by humans, can even kill the most powerful force on earth, which is the love of God. For me, the resurrection narrative seals the deal. Love rises from the tomb; of course it does!
Thank you David for your passion to connect theology and preaching. ‘Redemptive Violence’ as you have pointed out have been debated for years in the academic circle. Yet, how to communicate it to the folks sitting at the pews remains a challenge. Your encouragement through using this text is indeed helpful.
Exactly what I needed to hear for this Sunday….we lose ourselves in the logical explanation for the crucifixion without weighing the love of God in the mix as primary……sometimes, as said in comments above, it’s not about having the “right” theology or explanation, but in loving as truly loves us….allegory or parable, it’s hard to come away with another message….
Another basis of why the penal substitutionary atonement position seems to “add up” is the historical sense of a large measure of anger and capriciousness of God. Certainly this emerged with the ancient worldview and to put it positively, people assumed the sovereignty of God (or “the gods”) and if God had planned Jesus’ execution by crucifixion all along, it kept God in the driver’s seat. “Utterly unconvincing” is put it very delicately, diplomatically David! This parable is part of my favorite “Finders keepers” chapter of Luke, confirms my belief (and perspectives on God have always been plural) in the Spirit’s persistent trend to life and hope. Thank you.
Atonement theology in all of it’s forms is our need, not God’s need. I think we need to remind ourselves of that as we wrestle with theology in our heads. It will never be our head, but always God’s heart that wins out. Praise the Lord!
And if you want to wrap that up into a theology of atonement you sure can. We can try to formalize all want, but eventually you will find yourself standing with the older brother wondering why God wasn’t doing things the way that you’ve decided God is supposed to do it.
Thanks David.
One of my favorite authors is Robert Capon. Here is a snippet of his take in his conversation with the older brother:
“But see? The father continues…The only thing that matters is that fun, or no fun, your brother finally died to all that and now he’s alive again-whereas you, unfortunately, were hardly alive even the first time around.
Look. We’re all dead here and we’re having a terrific time. We’re all lost here and we feel right at home. You, on the other hand, are alive and miserable-and worse yet, you’re standing out here in the yard as if you were some kind of beggar. Why can’t you see? You own this place, Morris. And the only reason you’re not enjoying it is because you refuse to be dead to your dumb rules about how it should be enjoyed. So do yourself and everybody else a favor: drop dead. Shut up, forget about your stupid life, go inside, and pour yourself a drink.
The classic parable of grace, therefore turns out by anticipation to be a classic parable of judgment as well. It proclaims clearly that grace operates only by raising the dead: those who think they can make their lives the basis for their acceptance by God need not apply…”nobody will be kicked out for having a rotten life, because nobody there will have any life but the life of Jesus. God will say to everybody, “You were dead and are alive again; you were lost and are found: put on a funny hat and step inside. If, at that happy point, some dumbell wants to try proving he really isn’t dead…well, there’s a place for such part poopers. God thinks of everything.” Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of Grace, p. 144.
I once suggested to a parishoner after a Bible study, “May what it is all about is that God loves us.” The immediate response was, “NO!” Thanks for reminding me to tell the folks that God loves us.
Thank you – again an excellent job of getting to the truth of the matter. We are all bean counters, and like to think we live in a just world, where everyone gets what they deserve. But the parable points to a God who is, actually, not just. We do not get what we deserve – thank God! We have a Father who loves us unconditionally, recklessly, embarrassingly. I never agreed with Anselm – it’s really a horrible theology, but is more like a bone to the “law and order” crowd – the ones with whom Paul and Jesus both had problems. I’m using another story to tell this one – one that originated in my wife’s family, in a little song he used to sing to her. http://stjohns-online.org/weeklysermon.html
I am wondering, in light of International Women’s Day, about the other parent. The one whose voice is never heard, but deeply known. In this parable about relationships, about love, about God, what does the mother feel?
Rene Girard. If you have not discovered him, check out GirardianLectionary.net for Lutheran pastor Paul Nuechterlein’s exegetical work based on Girard’s “Anthropology of the Cross.” From the introduction to the website: “This lectionary website offers a different answer to the question of salvation — and so a different way to read the Bible. This answer: Jesus came to save us from our human origins in violence — opening the possibility to nothing less than a new Way to be human. A Start-over. Human Being 2.0. Read with this perspective, the Bible can be seen as an anthropological revelation every bit as much as a theological one. As we learn who God truly is in Jesus the Messiah, we are empowered by the Spirit to begin living into what it means to be truly human. In a world threatened by human violence, this way of reading the Christian message couldn’t be more timely.”
Hi David,
Very much appreciated your words this week on the text. While not a proponent of any atonement theologies, I am very drawn and have come to appreciate the cross as an expression of God’s love. I am still, however, not sure how to understand the cross/death of Jesus as an expression of God’s love. I have heard that it shows God will go to any lengths to have us, but not sure how Jesus’ dying communicates that. I think I am stuck on the dying/love piece. I liked this sentence, might I ask you to say more: Which his why I think the cross is not a means of payment but rather shows us just how far our prodigal God will go to tell us of God’s immeasurable love. Period.
Thanks
Have you read Harry Potter? Seriously. 🙂 I think it’s interesting that the central act that sets the series in motion is the sacrifice of Harry’s mother for him (that happens in the pre-story). No one would say her sacrifice was meant to appease Voldermort. She is not paying anyone. But the very fact that she is willing to risk her life for another – there is no greater love than this, that someone would lay down his/her life for another (John 10) – is an expression of profound love. There is a solidarity in the incarnation (being born like us) and cross (dying as we do) that can only be described as love. I don’t think, in the end, this is a mystery to be solved (which is I think the problem with all atonement theories – they try to capture and explain mystery) but rather something to be experienced.
Thank you David for the quick response. I have not read any of the Harry Potter series but we did a VBS around it once. Lost some members over it, the sorcery and all. Anyway, I was thinking about the “laying down one’s life for one’s friends from John after I commented to you. Not knowing the story, was it going to come down to someone dying, either Harry or his mom so she “took a bullet for him” so he could live? If so, how does that correlate to Jesus and us? I can see how it might work for the disciples, Jesus dies so the Roman authorities might think this whole messiah business is over and they will leave the disciples alone. But how is Jesus dying a sign of love for US? Unless it needs to understood as a metaphor that nothing really was going in the death of Jesus other than for God to say “your life matters a whole bunch to Me.” I appreciate the help.
Tom
Tom, I think you are highlighting the reality that, although there is a lot of good in what David is saying about the cross being an expression of God’s love, it ultimately proves incomplete. As is the case with all theology, the answer is rarely “this or that” but “both/and.”
First, if we completely throw out atonement theology, we have to dispense with large portions of Scripture, surely not something worth doing in the face of one parable (though God’s love displayed in Christ is also found elsewhere).
Consider Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:21, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” There are plenty of other passages that talk about this and use the term “redemption” or to “buy back,” or “purchase” someone (God purchasing us back from Satan, sin, and death).
If we don’t like Paul, we still have to deal with others that make this point. Isaiah 53, referenced also in the NT, says things like this, “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
And like this, “Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.” And like this, “For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”
Indeed, some may “like” atonement theology more than is healthy. The point of the way it plays out in the older son here is a good one (it also appears elsewhere as in Matthew 20 with the laborers in the vineyard that all receive the same “pay” or “reward” even though some started an hour before the end of the day). But that doesn’t mean the extensive development of atonement theology in the Scriptures doesn’t matter.
Also, as you pointed out, being willing to lay down our life for someone does sort of require us to consider why it needs to be lay down. If someone walks in front of a bus that doesn’t necessarily indicate the death was for love. If a child is in front of the bus and the person absorbs the impact of the bus in their place, pushing them out of the way, that is love. Just being obnoxious to the religious leaders and upsetting the established ruling class to the point of getting yourself killed doesn’t show love in any way, shape or form. That’s what Barrabas did! (sort of)
Anyway, throwing out atonement theology and emphasizing God’s love displayed in Jesus sort of undoes both. It also does exactly what David is criticizing in those that over emphasize atonement theology by emphasizing a disconnected, unintelligble “love” that makes even less sense than the mysterious truths God has tried to convey to us in and through the ministry of Jesus, and in the words passed down to us in the Scriptures.
I wonder if we Christians are too often the elder son? Working hard, “sacrificing” ourselves, going to church, having right beliefs, and when others (Muslims? LGBT?) who do not seem to us to be doing the correct thing, have wrong beliefs, wrong behaviors; we get angry, maybe jealous, and we actually loose sight of the core of God’s grace which is to love regardless of what we consider right behavior or right beliefs?
Your response to Thomas Rohde offered a response to me as well, so thank you for for that and your continues willingness to reflect each week. I always find it helpful and meaningful.
Thank you, David. Your reflections are my number one “go to” source as I prepare for my sermon each week. I am grateful to have access to your words.
Thank you for this most refreshing sermon. Your thoughtful commentary on atonement theology brought to mind that of the late Marcus Borg, who thought that Jesus’s death could still matter for Christians but not because it paid for our sins. So, what do you make of our current ELCA Eucharistic liturgies, which proclaim Jesus as “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” and the communion wine as the blood of Jesus “shed for you for the remission of sins”. From purely an evolutionary standpoint, I often wonder, why should God need an innocent someone to die just because the rest of us all act (sometimes poorly) on the very nature that He — yes He! — gave us in the first place? Or how about the Good Friday lectionary reading from Isaiah 53, where the prophet writes: “He was wounded for our transgressions, and by his stripes we are healed”, wherein we pew sitters are meant to conjure up Jesus in our minds? (Never mind that Isaiah was writing in the past tense, during the Babylonian captivity, six centuries before Jesus, and that his referent was the nation of Israel, not the person of Jesus, and that Isaiah was arguably wrong in the first place to assume that God was punishing the Jews for their sins). Your comments here would be most appreciated!
Also, I think your interpretation of the Prodigal Son story. Is spot-on, namely, that it’s all about the unconditional love of the father for his wayward son. To your point, I would only add that the father (God) saw no need to have the righteous son (Jesus) killed so that he could forgive the wayward son (us). Like you rhetorically asked in your sermon, why can’t God just forgive us when we stray and are repentant? Is there then any particular need for the death-related “means of grace” that we Lutherans have historically emphasized in our liturgy and hymnody?
Thanks for any reply and, most of all, thanks again for your wonderful sermon.
And maybe unconditional love for the elder son as well…
You write that it’s a classic story of forgiveness and repentance with the parenthetical comment that you’re not sure he was actually repentant. I’ve always thought he wasn’t truly repentant, that he was rehearsing his line just to get a belly full of food from his father. But does repentance always precede forgiveness? I would hope that, upon returning and experiencing the grace and forgiveness of his father that it would then prompt him, move him, to repent. We aren’t told in the story how it turns out but when the relationship is restored I’m thinking there’s a good chance that the younger son’s life would have turned around.