Trinity Church in the City of Boston
The Rev. Morgan S. Allen
March 24, 2024
Questions at Calvary Sermon Series – Atonement, Mark 14:1-15:47

In you, O Lord, have we taken refuge; for the sake of your name, lead us and guide us. [i]   Amen.

Feel how far we have travelled in Mark’s Gospel: from the supernatural oracle at its outset, [ii]  the heavens splitting open, [iii]  and a holy spirit lighting upon Jesus [iv]  … to his and his disciples’ conquering of demons [v] , disease [vi] , and even the antagonistic natural world [vii]  … to the high hopes just moments ago and the parade of palms upon their devoted band’s entrance into Jerusalem [viii]  … and, then, this … this devastation. [ix] 

Like Christopher Reeve in Superman II having yielded his invulnerability and getting his lip bloodied in that diner [x] , as Jesus turns toward the Holy City following his transfiguration, the extraordinary powers he has wielded so impressively suddenly melt away, lose their efficacy.  When he faces the social, religious, and political hierarchies – those systems and structures that bind him and his followers – his divinity yields to the limits of his mortality. [xi] 

The night in Gethsemane reinforces Jesus’ humanity, when he prays to God – for whom “all things are possible” – and asks God to remove the cup of death Jesus now sees with terrible clarity before him. [xii]   Jesus’ moment of vulnerability reflects his friends’ struggle to stay awake, yet, while the disciples’ heavy eyelids ultimately overcome their best intentions [xiii] , Jesus submits to the peril before him. [xiv]   By this integrity – Jesus marrying his belief and his action – the more Jesus musters faithfulness, the more strength he has for fidelity. [xv] 

Last week our sermon series began with “theodicy,” answering the fundamental question of Palm Sunday: If there is a God, and if that God is loving, and if that God is all-powerful, then how could that loving, omnipotent God allow this horror to happen?  We named how the early Church – from its position of relative powerlessness – subordinated God’s Love, to God’s power, choosing to understand their suffering as parcel to “God’s will,” a divine plan that would ultimately lend meaning to their misery as a necessary step toward a future redemption.

In turn, we named how our very different American circumstance of global power and privilege inspires different answers.  We flipped the ancient understanding; we subordinated God’s power, to God’s love.  Refusing the idea of God as the cause of any harm, we affirmed instead that if God could save one from suffering, then God would save all, for all of us are loved fully and loved equally; yet, because God has not saved all from suffering, then we must accept God cannot save any – not even Jesus on the cross.  This theodicy reconciliation affirms our freedom (that gift requiring God’s self-limiting the Divine power to control); acknowledges our complicity in the world’s suffering [xvi] ; and expects our faithful labor for that world’s healing and renewal. [xvii]   God will not make those loving choices for us; we must make them ourselves.

Today we consider the implication of these approaches to theodicy for the “atonement” – how the Church has understood Jesus’ crucifixion.

Building on the canonical epistles, the Church has traditionally understood Jesus’ death as a sacrifice in the style of their Temple devotions. [xviii]   The Cross fulfills what the Temple offerings only anticipated. [xix]   For us Episcopalians, our Rite I, Eucharistic Prayer voices this idea crisply: Jesus “made there, by his one oblation of himself once offered, a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world.” [xx]   Whereas the Jewish faithful offered continuing Temple sacrifices for their ongoing, individual ablution, Jesus’ act accomplishes this purification finally and for all.

Yet, this framework begs clarifications: Who offers the sacrifice?  To whom has the sacrifice been offered?  What salvation does the sacrifice accomplish?  Does “all” really mean all?

Early Christian thinkers propose that Jesus was “ransomed” for us sinners.  This tradition imagines that humankind’s sin-sickness testifies to the devil’s victory; Satan holds us inescapably captive – yet, with a vulnerability: Satan’s insatiable appetites.  See, while our sinfulness earns our detention – and we cannot free ourselves from our situation – Jesus remains sinless and shares none of humanity’s guilt.  Even so, the devil cannot resist and claims the Nazarene as his own.  This overreach avails God a Deathstar-trench [xxi]  to salvage the creation.

See, Jesus’ willingness to endure crucifixion sets a trap, with Jesus’ humanity the bait, and his divinity the hook.  When the devil bites – exceeds his authority – the hook sets.  God has Satan dangling on the line and reclaims humankind for good. [xxii] 

Among other troubles, this ransom model depends upon the cosmology of Jesus’ day; remember:  for Mark’s community, humankind lives at the front of a battle pitting God and the angels against Satan and the demons, with rules of that engagement (problematically) requiring God’s deference to Satan’s authority.  In time, the emergence of new cosmological ideas adapted this theory.  Instead of a battle between God and the devil requiring Divine trickery, the idea of the Christus victor imagines Jesus as triumphing over evil and the world’s wiles. [xxiii]   In this theory of the atonement, Jesus dies to conquer death, a liberation Christ shares with humankind as an expression of God’s goodness, rather than as the result of any negotiation or battle.

Other atonement theories propose Jesus satisfies – covers – our sin. [xxiv]   From Adam’s and Eve’s inaugural disobedience, we have dishonored God, and, given the difference in our respective stations – God imagined as a feudal lord, and we as mere vassal subjects – we cannot bridge this deficit on our own.  Rather than our eternal condemnation, Jesus as “lord,” and Jesus as perfectly and unfailingly faithful, offers himself on our behalf to restore our right relationship with God.

Just as changes in Christian and secular cosmology prompted further development of the ransom theory, the rule of law’s succession of the feudal system inspired new understandings of Jesus’ death as a substitute for the punishment we deserve.  Rather than dishonoring our manor lord with our disobedience, these ideas propose humankind has committed legal offenses for which we are accountable to God as our judge. [xxv]   Though sinless, Jesus enters this cosmic courtroom drama, accepts God’s guilty verdict on our behalf, and endures the punishment that should have been assigned to us, the depravity of Jesus’ torture expressing the ugly depths of our sinfulness.

These sets of atonement theories – ransom and substitution – both continue the subordination of God’s Love to God’s power.  Returning to our Eucharistic prayers, hear from the form we will offer in just a few moments: Jesus “stretched out his arms upon the cross, and offered himself in obedience to your will, a perfect sacrifice for the whole world.” [xxvi]   Though Jesus demonstrates great fidelity, in these theories of atonement, God orchestrates the Passion events and “wills” Jesus’ suffering, whether as a trick, or a test, or a payment, or an absolution.  God remains firmly in control.

A third atonement model – moral influence – preserves the priority of God’s Love before God’s power.  As Jesus dies – crying out to a God who does not answer him [xxvii]  – we see ourselves: not as the victim God has sent to the cross, but as complicit with the crucifiers who nailed him there.  Jesus has freely chosen peaceableness and mercy and grace, and we have freely chosen violence and judgement and division.  Jesus “dies for our sins” – not simply because “he gets what we deserve,” but because of our prideful, selfish, vulgar sins.

Jesus’ selflessness sings God’s Love, for “greater love hath no one than this, to lay down one’s life for their friends.” [xxviii]   The power of this sacrifice intends to “influence” reciprocity between Jesus’ action and the actions of the community he served.  That is, in this subjective model Jesus’ crucifixion not only means something to us, but expects something from us.  Specifically, Jesus’ death on the cross calls us to die to sin, to offer ourselves for the good of the Gospel.  Likewise, the manifestation of Jesus’ Love intends to inspire our love – our love for one another and our love for God.

As the Christian Church begins again the negotiation of Holy Week’s hierarchies, we should take care.  Just as Jesus proved vulnerable to those systems and structures that bound him and his followers – his sinlessness no shield – our faithfulness will not keep us from all peril.  While God does not “will” any of us to the cross, be certain that the powers and principalities [xxix]  still carry their hammers and nails and hard wood. [xxx] 

Therefore, we lean into the mysteries of our faith, into the crucified One who knows our fear and hurt.  We lean into one another, into the care of our beloved in this community.  And we lean into our hope, daring an Easter belief in the impossible.

We join this pilgrim march as companions in the household of God,

Amen.