open source theology

title: Atonement for a 'Sinless' Society cover image: Get original file (2KB) author: Alan Mann publisher: Milton Keynes and Waynesboro: Paternoster Press date: 2005 reviewer: Andrew Perriman review:

Alan Mann gained a reputation in this country recently for being something of a theological outlaw by co-authoring with Steve Chalke The Lost Message of Jesus. He posted some reflections on the controversy on this website here. His new book Atonement for a ‘Sinless’ Society will undoubtedly raise the bounty on his head, but it reads as a genuine attempt to move the debate forward (notwithstanding the fact that it is based on an earlier MA thesis) and is well worth having a look at.

The book presents a remarkably straightforward and coherent thesis. It starts with the observation that postmodern, post-industrialized Western culture no longer has a meaningful concept of sin and guilt: we cannot do wrong to others or to the ‘Other’, we can only be wronged against, we can only be victims. The resulting self-obsession, however, has given rise to a rather different ontological plight – the realization that a huge gulf exists between our real self and our ideal self. What this realization generates is a sense of shame and the isolation of the individual. What the postmodern seeks, therefore, is an ‘ontological wholeness’ and the recovery of intimacy. In Alan Mann’s view this creates a serious problem for the church: the traditional doctrine of atonement was designed to solve the problem of sin (understood as an offence against objective standards) not of shame and therefore needs to be restated for a post-industrialized culture. What shamed people need is not forgiveness but a ‘sense that they can live as whole, coherent beings’ (51).

A narrative theology of the atonement

The rethinking of atonement begins by recognizing the centrality of narrative both for the theological task and for the process of constructing individual identities. Alan discusses the role played by narrative in ‘constructing, deconstructing and reconstructing the self’ (6) and the particular use in therapy of counter-stories to repair the damage caused to the self by false and alienating narratives. This leads naturally to the argument that the atonement should be presented not as a matter of ‘fact or truthful propositions, which have little meaningful credibility in a postmodern context’ (91) but as a counter-narrative to the narrative of shame that so characterizes the postmodern condition.

So how does the atonement counter-narrative work? The argument is that Jesus is ‘an individual who narrates his identity and his intent to himself and to “Others”’ (8). This is a narrative about Jesus’ ideal self. What the postmodern then asks, conscious of his or her own failure in this regard, is whether Jesus can maintain the coherence of this ideal self and the real self. ‘The reader is looking for the hope of ontological or narrative coherence and so for the possibility of living free of shame. The post-industrialized self is seeking a narrative identity that can hold together the ideal- and real-self without contradiction.’ (113) The story of Judas is told as a paradigm of the post-industrialized self ‘traumatized by the dis-ease of chronic shame’ (124), unable to enjoy the supreme good of ‘mutual, undistorted, unpolluted relating’ with the ‘Other’ (131).

The argument becomes more difficult when Alan attempts to explain how Jesus’ death brings about ‘at-one-ment’. Essentially the cross is seen as an intentional act of self-giving love for the sake of the ‘Other’, narrated in advance by Jesus chiefly through the symbolism of the meal in the upper room. The narration is important in two respects. First, Jesus offers an interpretation of his death that is counter to the thought that haunts the post-industrialized mind that death cuts off ‘the chronically shamed, incoherent, storied-self from every meaningful and potentially healing relationship’ (132).

Jesus takes to the cross (the symbol of human non-being) his storied-self: an ontologically coherent self. In doing so he redeems the cross and changes its signifi­cance. There is a paradigm shift in its meaning. For by making his death on the cross the intent of his storied-self, facing this place of non-being and non-meaning and giving up his life there for ‘Others’, Jesus takes to it his ‘at-oneness’. In doing so, it becomes the place, symbolically and in reality, for the presence of mutual, undistorted, unpolluted relating. This is the place we all must go in search of our own at-one-ment. (140)

Secondly, by faithfully enacting on the cross the story that was told in the upper room Jesus preserves the coherence of the ideal self and the real self – in effect, he lives up to the expectations that he had created for himself. This story then becomes available as a counter-narrative for anyone who is looking for a way to recover ontological coherence.

Traditionally evangelicalism has made some sort of confession of faith the means by which the benefits of Jesus’ death are appropriated for the individual. Alan suggests that for the postmodern the most appropriate context for encountering the atonement narrative is repeated eucharistic observance.

The Eucharist is that rite of identification that allows for the atoning work of Jesus to manifest itself in the lives of those who encounter the narrative. It is that moment when, narratively speaking, the ‘death’ of the self can occur and the possibility of divine authorship can become a real possibility. In this way the Eucharist has its most profound and poignant effect in putting to death the narrative incoherence of the storied-self while at the same time bringing forth life after death in the form of a new, narratively coherent self. (159)

Dialogue in motion

In an appendix to the book Robin Parry voices three of the major concerns that evangelicals are likely to have with Alan’s thesis. i) He is not convinced that shame has replaced the idea of sin against others for postmoderns. ii) Similarly he resists the idea that postmoderns need to be saved from self-judgment rather than from divine judgment, arguing that shame is better seen as a particular manifestation of the anger of God. iii) He feels that Alan needs to clarify the relation between the atonement narrative and what is historically or objectively real. The thesis is constructed in such a way that the historicity of the Gospel narratives is virtually irrelevant. He asks, ‘Could not a fictional story provide the kinds of counter-narrative postmoderns seek? If so could Alan’s atonement theology survive with a fictional Jesus?’ (196).

The critique is a sharp one and its inclusion, to my mind, a little surprising – but at least it makes clear that while Alan’s argument needs to be taken very seriously, some considerable work needs to be done in thinking through how it relates to more ‘normative’ theological interpretations of the atonement. Alan appears at times rather dismissive of traditional and historical accounts. He argues, for example, that the ‘construction of a historical Jesus’ is an unnecessary distraction: ‘we are merely seeking a narrative possibility that is bearable and conceivable, and one that can be owned by the individual as meaningful and sufficient’ (107). He states his position bluntly: ‘the quest for the historical Jesus is not a quest for salvation but merely for fact’ (108). But this simply perpetuates the ‘modern’ dichotomy between history and theology, fact and meaning, politics and spirituality. I would suggest that there are much more constructive and healing ways of understanding the epistemological and missiological relation between Alan’s narrative-therapeutic account of the atonement and the sort of account that emerges from biblical and historical investigation.

Alan’s atonement story is entirely separated from eschatology, understood as the crisis of second temple Judaism – apart from which it is very difficult to make sense of Jesus’ death. This really shouldn’t happen in a narrative theology nowadays – the appeal to narrative should not be an excuse for neglecting the historical context of those isolated incidents and subplots out of which we like to fabricate our theologies. I think there is considerable merit in Alan’s argument, but if it is detached from this backdrop there is serious risk of it being distorted and devalued.

One obvious distortion that arises is the persistent emphasis on the individual self. There is some reference to the role of community in the discussion of the eucharist, but nothing is said about the significance of Jesus’ death within the narrative about Israel. I think there is more to this than pedantry – it is a question of how we understand mission. This seems more fundamental to me than how exactly we explain the atonement. The doctrine of atonement has become such a problem for evangelicalism precisely because it has been detached from a proper understanding of the missional narrative. Alan’s reconstruction takes us a step towards correcting this and offers some excellent insights into the state of the post-industrialized soul, but my fear is that taken on its own his proposal is likely to derail attempts to understand from a biblical starting point what it means to be the people of God in the world. Before we can understand the atonement we have to ask what it is for. We have hardly moved on from the traditional substitutionary model if we are still stuck with an interpretation that is preoccupied with the plight of the individual.

Another way to look at this is to ask what exactly is the ideal self of the postmodern. Perhaps I have read the book too quickly, but it seems to me that this approach to the atonement offers a recovery of ontological coherence, a reconnecting of ideal self and real self, without seriously asking what that ideal self is supposed to be. Are we simply to assume that the postmodern ideal includes the possibility of reconciliation with God? How far does that ideal overlap with biblical accounts of what constitutes Godly or Christlike or Spirit-filled behaviour? Is there anything more to this ideal self than being a nice person in touch with the ‘Other’? I think what I would say is not that this line of thinking is a dead-end or that we need to back track and take a more familiar and less controversial path, but that it needs to be reset within the context of the larger biblical narrative. It is this larger narrative, which is in the first place historical, that must define the ideal self and locate it within an eschatologically determined community. I am not convinced that Alan’s thesis helps us to understand how to progress from individual fulfilment or ‘salvation’ to an adequate concept of divine vocation any better than the old models.