Eric said: “This parable is not useful in discussing theories of the cross because it is inaccurate at several points and is therefore too dissimilar from the stories most Christians tell themselves to be at all penetrating.”

(For example…)

1) The father in the parable is emotionally unstable and given to fits of rage. His acting out is motivated by this rage. The god revealed in Scripture (and Jesus) is the one who is consumed with love for his creation and who seeks to undo the effects of the corruption that has entered.

2) The parable proposes that the son steps up for the beating by the unwitting father. The testimony of Jesus himself is that YHWH, the creator and covenant god, is the one stepping up, paradoxically in Jesus. Thus, it is, in some sense, the father who selflessly acts. (Perhaps the parable lacks primarily as it is unable to see paradox.)

3) The ‘stern’ father in the parable is simply not the image of the creator in the Scriptures. Those who read it that way are missing the major themes the writers are emphasizing about the faithfulness and awesome love of a god who remains involved in his creation, even after it persistently rejects him.

Eric,

With all due respect, I think you may have misunderstood in some way. I offer the following words in my parable’s defense.

Your argument makes the unwarranted assumption that I was trying to describe something Biblical. I wasn’t. I was seeking to describe something that is specifically un-Biblical: the Penal Substitution Model of the Atonement – or more specifically its defective reasoning. Only if the penal model of the atonement is *the same as* the Biblical witness can my description of Penal Substitution be reasonably dismissed on the grounds that it does not line up with Scripture; and the supposed Biblical status of the penal model is precisely the point in question in this debate, isn’t it? One cannot assume at the outset of a debate that one’s own particular view is true and proceed to use that assumption as a premise to support the conclusion that one’s own view is true. That is circular reasoning, much like Larry, Curly and Moe vouching for each other’s intelligence. An opponent of the penal theory – which I am – simply does not believe that it does line up with the Bible. I’m a little flummoxed: what else is a dissenter like me supposed to do to satisfy your test? Shall I show how *Biblical* the Penal Substitution teaching supposedly is, instead? Wouldn’t I be doing “your job”, then? I trust you can appreciate my confusion. Please, if you wish to critique my parable for what it was meant to be: a paraphrase of the supposed *logic* of the penal model, then please demonstrate how I failed to communicate that model’s core reasoning. To do otherwise merely stalls the discussion before it has fully gotten moving.

You imply that a parable or analogy must line up with each and every line and contour of a complex doctrine in order to be relevant or helpful. I take issue with that thinking, even though I believe my parable did reasonably well in that regard. I frankly wonder how many of the parables of Jesus would pass the rigors of a point-by-point critical comparative analysis with the basic tenets of Evangelical doctrine (or any doctrine for that matter). As I see it, the test of a good parable or analogy is not whether or not it is a perfect, point-by-point match, but rather, “Does it communicate the main points faithfully? Does it conform to the referent where it is meant to conform in its argument?” Every analogy fails at some point; and the fact that they do does not in and of itself make analogies necessarily inaccurate or unhelpful in discussions about doctrine. If you dispute this, press some of the compound analogies of God found in certain O.T. passages (such as those in which He is both husband and a father to the same individual or nation) to their logical conclusion to see where that reasoning leads you doctrinally. I don’t think you would cut those metaphorical verses out of your Bible merely because they seem to imply the divinity of incest, would you? And you would be right in not doing so. The Bible’s analogies are not meant to be stretched that far. I think Scripture is far more tolerant of the inherent limitations of metaphorical language than you may happen to be. I believe my parable more or less lives up to the standard for analogies in Scripture, at least in principle.

It has been said that metaphors or allegories will generally line up with the referent on only one or two major points and then the rest is mere literary window-dressing. I took that for granted in writing what I did. That assumption set the bar at a surmountable height for my endeavor, which was the only way I could muster the courage to attempt such an intimidating and seemingly impossible enterprise as translating a very abstract, non-real-world doctrine into a concrete, real-world scenario: something penal atonement advocates have been largely unable to achieve despite their best efforts. Anticipating fastidious objections from my critics, I designed my analogy to line up on several points *beyond* the standard just to be safe. I knew I had to be as close to perfect as an imperfect author like me could be with my points of doctrinal correlation if I was to satisfy a skeptic. I’ll list the points of overlap between my parable and the doctrine of penal substitution so that you may better critique my effectiveness: (1) the supposed inflexible justice of God (the father could not let such a brazen act go unpunished); (2) the written Law (the important papers); (3) transgression against that Law (spilled ink on the papers); (4) the supposed conflict in God’s nature between justice and mercy (the father’s internal conflict between the need for righteous vengeance and his love for his two-year-old son); (5) substitution in punishment (one son being struck in place of the other); (6) the High Priestly intercession of Christ (the firstborn’s proposal to the father); (7) the purity of the sacrifice (the obedience of the firstborn son); (8) Christ’s eternal nature (the firstborn was much “older” than his brother); (9) the pertinent reality of death (as an inactive, comatose state); (10) resurrection by the Father (money spent on doctors which brought about a recovery); (11) the restoration of peace and harmony between God and men (the father felt “propitious” again); (12) believers sharing in Christ’s reward (as the receipt and distribution of a sizable inheritance which specifically did not require the death of the father – a literary hurdle); (13) glorification and deliverance from future punishment (as full-body armor); and, (14) the resultant eternal bliss in Heaven (the father and his two sons lived happily ever after). This was a nearly impossible task I performed. I would genuinely like to see you (or any of the penal atonement advocates) come up with an analogy you believe better fits your view – to be critiqued by your standard. At the very least I think my parable deserves something better than an offhand dismissal that doesn’t even address it for what it was intended to be.

But there’s more. Add to the aforementioned difficulties the fact that I was writing my parable to demonstrate the essential illogic of the penal view at the very same time that I was imposing an artificial degree of reasonableness upon it so that it could be systematically critiqued. I ran the risk of inadvertently saving in people’s eyes that very tower I was seeking to undermine, by means of the very same artificial supports that I supplied. How’s that for a brain-burner? Again, such a task seemed impossible to me at the outset. On top of all this, the question inevitably arose: “Where does one find a real-world example of death and resurrection so as to provide the key ingredients for an atonement analogy?” We don’t see people popping up from the grave every day; and the closest real-life analogy to death and resurrection I could think of was that of coming out of a comatose state (in which one had been at the *brink* of death). I was about ready to pull out my hair over this. I think you would too.

If anyone of the Penal Atonement camp could have provided a better analogy of their doctrine, my job wouldn’t have been so hard. To date, I’ve only heard of such analogies as the train-track analogy (railroad switch operator having to decide between allowing a train full of people to go off a cliff or divert the train to the track where his son is playing); the hammer and glass analogy (a man swings a hammer at a dirty glass only to put a protective saucepan over it at the last instant, which represents Christ); and the traffic ticket analogy (a man stands before a judge who finds him guilty of speeding, and a kind stranger offers to pay the fine instead). I’m sure there are plenty of theologians in this forum who could have a heyday with picking apart those penal atonement analogies. I know I could. If those truly are the best stories that members of the Penal Substitution camp can provide to illustrate their own theory, I think my own deserves a little more consideration.

To further compound the complexity of my task, there were several points of my own that I wanted to insert along the way while telling my tightly interwoven story. I wanted people to be shocked at the needless inflexibility of the father’s so-called justice to the point of them gasping inwardly. I wanted them to wonder at the idea that justice is so inflexible as to require the punishment of every sin, and yet paradoxically so lax as to allow it to fall on someone other than the perpetrator. I wanted people to come to terms with their own hidden anxieties about whether or not God truly loves them as a father or is just some cold automaton in the sky calculating endless tallies of sins – all because of what they were taught about the Atonement. It was also important to provide a necessary stress-relief opportunity at the end through the use of humor (the body armor bit), so that the readers wouldn’t be shaken too bad emotionally. After all, we base so much of our sense of spiritual security on our understanding of the Atonement, and understandably so. To attack that is a serious matter with potentially serious emotional consequences. Beyond all this, I wanted flush out into the open the hidden implication of the Penal Substitution Model: that Christ somehow ceased to be the express image of the Father on the cross; and that for a time, however brief, the Father and Son were very different in their respective demeanors.

I understand and appreciate that you probably have a much saner, gentler view of Penal Substitution than many of its more theologically-programmed proponents. That is to your credit. Back when I was an advocate of the model, I also managed to modify the doctrine to a degree in order to conform it better to some of what the Holy Spirit told my heart about the truth. Yet there is only so far one can go in accommodating an unBiblical doctrine to the witness of the Spirit. Eventually I reached my breaking point in the endeavor, just as many others have before me.

My own breaking point came partly because of a debate over doctrine much like this one. You see, I used to have a counter-cult ministry geared toward reaching Jehovah’s Witnesses for Christ. There were many Evangelical doctrines that I felt I could prove to their and my own satisfaction. But when it came to teaching them the “correct” doctrine of the Atonement as I had been taught it, I always found myself secretly feeling that something was desperately amiss. I just couldn’t quite make the doctrine make enough sense to warrant their conversion to it, and I found the Biblical support for it was surprisingly scant and open to interpretation. The Jehovah’s Witnesses have a very thin, even pathetic doctrine of the Atonement; yet I found myself being given a nosebleed nearly every time I tried to answer a simple, common-sense question. They didn’t have a good answer for the questions raised, believe me, but then again neither did I, which really bothered me. Mind you, I fully intended to champion the doctrine against all heretics who would dare dismiss the “Biblical” Penal Substitution doctrine of the Atonement”. It was not for lack of motivation or means that I failed. It was a defective doctrine. I truly gave it my best shot… but my own theology ended up taking the bullet. I frankly never expected to end up believing or teaching a different theory of the atonement than that which I had always considered orthodox. Such a thought would have terrified me. But that is where I am now doctrinally. I learned to my surprise that I was not the only one who had gone down that unexpected and very difficult path.

Hugo Grotius, a Dutch jurist who is credited with originating the so-called Governmental Theory of the Atonement (a recognized popular alternative to the Penal Substitution Model) was in my shoes, once. He had originally set out to defend the Penal Substitution view against the tough questions raised by the heretical Socinians – questions that still have not been adequately answered. By the time he’d managed to bolster the logic of the theory, he had accidently articulated a model so different from the penal view that it is now routinely condemned by members of the Penal Substitution camp as heresy. I’m sure he didn’t mean to arrive where he did. I can certainly understand what he must have felt like doing so.

Eric, forgive me for saying so, but it may be that your personal theology has also so evolved as to become a quite different species of penal atonement, as well. It might not qualify as Penal Substitution any more; it could be another genus altogether. You might very well have your own unique atonement theory and not even realize it. I’d be curious to learn whether or not you agree with Martin Luther’s assertion (in his book on Galatians) that on the cross “Jesus Christ was the greatest sinner that ever lived - that all the sins of men were so laid upon Christ that He became all the thieves and murderers and adulterers that ever were, in one.” Or Calvin’s assertion that Christ’s suffering on the cross was insufficient to fully atone for sin and hence Christ had to be tortured in Hell to finish the job. Both reformers certainly vacillated a bit in their support for the penal view (Luther sometimes leaned more toward a Christus Victor model, for example), but those men are rightly credited as being two of the earliest, most notable supporters of Penal Substitution. If your view of the atonement differs significantly from their definitive views, I would encourage you to stop to consider whether or not you might be on my side of the theological divide after all. You may not have recognized the doctrine of penal substitution in my parable simply because it didn’t happen to match your personal modification of it.

Eric, I was actually quite surprised to read that you thought my parable was not helpful in a discussion of theories of the cross. I expected some people to dislike or criticize my parable, but not to say that it was inappropriate for the discussion. It has been my experience that most of the Christians to whom I have given it immediately recognized in its satire the very same doctrine of the atonement that they had been taught for years. I’ve been thanked over and over for my parable. One man who had been severely abused as a child broke down in tears and told me how it had helped deliver him from that abusive image of God the Father that the Penal Substitution Model had taught him to accept as Gospel. Most of the time, however, the response has been nervous-yet-relieved laughter. The intensity of it suggested to me that a bit of pent-up theological tension had finally been released. To elicit such a response my parable had to come at least within spitting distance of the doctrine, if you’ll pardon the expression. Now, you might very well argue that such people must believe something quite different than the “orthodox” Penal Substitution Model of the Atonement. It certainly is possible that they do, although I frankly doubt that to be the case. Be that as it may, at the very least my parable must have coincided enough with a “common misconception” of the doctrine so as to be helpful to a discussion about it. At best my parable nailed it on the head. I think if we are to get anywhere in this debate about theories of the cross we need to ask not just whether or not a paraphrase of a doctrine matches our own personal beliefs, but whether or not it matches those beliefs of a sufficiently large segment of the Christian population who care enough about the subject to talk about it here. Any dismissal of my parable prior to such a consideration, would be premature, I feel. At least it had the potential to be helpful in this atonement discussion. Responses to it which do not adequately address it for what it is, are unhelpful in my opinion.

Whether we like it or not, abstract discussions about theology that have no direct connection to the real everyday world are a dinosaur well down the path to their inevitable extinction, just like the Modernism upon which they are at least partly based. I have read in a number of places that postmoderns simply do not respond well to that sort of theological approach and conversely *do* respond well to analogies or helpful stories. If you wish to participate in *their* religious discussions and not be prematurely dismissed as “unhelpful”, I would encourage you to attempt to translate your atonement doctrine into their language. I go one step further: I challenge you here and now to give us your own real-world analogy of the penal atonement doctrine you believe in for *us* to critique. I open up that challenge up to whomever else might care to accept it, for other atonement models as well. I think that the act of creating such real-world analogies would be a useful exercise for everyone here: an exercise which has the serious potential to not only impress upon everyone here the profound difficulties involved in translating the doctrine of the atonement into the postmodern philosophical milieu, but which also has the benefit of defining everyone’s terms in advance of a serious debate on the subject. All real debates begin with a defining of terms, it has been said; and in a postmodern debate the person with the best story or analogy is the one most likely to gain a hearing for his views. I am presently working on one for my own atonement theory, and would greatly value seeing the creative processes of all the other atonement theorists here at work.

Eric, despite my defensive tone regarding my posted work, I do respect you and consider you to be a brother in Christ worthy of the utmost appreciation and love. I have tried to cut out any language in this defense that might inadvertently imply anything but that high regard for you, and I’m sure that I will turn out to have failed in some regard when all is said and done. It will hit me right after this post is out of my hands, I’m sure of it; and I can guarantee you that I will do quite a bit of cringing when it does. Anyway, if I do inadvertently come across in a harsh or caustic manner, please know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my own insecurities. Please accept my apology in advance. This is my first attempt to enter into a major public discussion about the atonement, in a forum likely populated by *professional* theologians, and it is a bit intimidating, frankly. I am a non-seminarian who is presently attempting to write a book proposing what I feel is a very promising atonement theory, and I simply do not feel equal to the task of defending it or anything else in such a public forum. I am confident my atonement theory is solid. I quake at the knees, regardless. So if I do come across the wrong way please let me know. I’ll do my best to correct the oversight.

May the blessings of the Kingdom of Heaven be upon you and yours.

Your brother,

Jonathan