This title is a bit more "inside baseball" to the Christian world -- and for readers who do not identify that way, I apologize. My writing conceit is to fit things into two pages -- in this series into one page -- and part of the cost for that is resorting to mnemonic terms which will sometimes make the text a trifle opaque. Sorry, not sorry.
But in this essay title, I'm using two highly compressed and technical terms. By Paganizing, Wright and I mean conforming the Christian message to widespread other-religious forms, outlined for instance in Mimetic Theory by René Girard, where "balance" and "order" (and "proper" hierarchy as opposed to equality -- more on that some other time) are restored by choosing a victim and pouring the community's hate out on that one. The story of the crucifixion in its barest formfits very neatly into that framework but proper understanding of the event from the Christian position points elsewhere.
By Soteriology, Wright and I are referring to the branch of Christian Theology that tries to categorize and understand deeply what "salvation" (σωτηρία -- so-tay-'ree-a -- "Saviour" was, incidentally, a standard imperial title: Julius Caesar was said to have saved the empire from the civil war) is, how it works, operates, what God does, what people do, etc. Wright used it in his three-word phrases because it is such a powerful mnemonic.
The "numbered" footnotes come from my off-web composition. I'm going to re-read this and try to identify the tersest, most arcane elements here for similar exposition as above in lettered footnotes.
It is not hard to invite someone into new life in Christ but it can be tricky to bring up the subject at all. It can be complex to give even a minimally coherent whole account of the matter. It can be painful to navigate around the hurts that someone may have received at the hands of authority figures within church groups in their past – without enumerating them here, nor imbibing in the “No True Scotsman” fallacy. But at some point, one who without external duress offers himself to the most brutal death imaginable and forgives his tormentors is a compelling picture.
It’s relatively easy to express analogies for what Jesus’ death was for from things that the New Testament writers said about it. The thing is simple enough that a pre-schooler can fall in love with it (I did) and follow it for the rest of one’s life.
The difficulty comes in when we try to articulate precisely what was going on in technical terms. This is not to say that the exercise is futile and ought not to be attempted, only that it’s difficult, fraught and has divided more friends over more generations than the years many of us will live out.
Was Jesus human? Was he also God? Did he only appear to be God? Did he only appear to be human? Was he only God some of the time? Did God really die?<a> In the first generation, nobody doubted that Jesus had been nailed to a cross and died, nor that he appeared alive afterwards to easily identifiable people who could give an account of having seen him<1>.
The Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds settled these questions after centuries of arguments and pitched battles over the details. Then there was the running “why?” – was it to store up merits for us all? was it to restore God’s honour in the face of our disobedience? was it a gesture to make it plain he was not angry with us?
The most common western answer has typically settled on sin having incurred a blood debt with God that Jesus’ death was sufficient to cover for all mankind – or at least for the Elect<b>.
This picture, still widely preached, has an unfortunate resemblance to a father requiring the death of his own son for some religious purpose. Given how many other possible resonances are available, and how Jesus’ death is an echo of Isaac’s near-sacrifice by Abraham, which seems in one sense to be saying, “nope! I never meant you to actually do that”, due consideration ought to be given to the possibility that something else is going on here.
René Girard talks about Jesus’ death being the death-knell to the perfect-victim pattern in human history. Kruger and Young posit that the Father and Jesus (and the Spirit) were never separate, not even in Jesus’ death – that the cry of Psalm 22.1<c> by Jesus on the cross was not of dereliction, but a reference to the whole Psalm<2>. A particularly well-loved modern Christian worship song makes it sound as though “the wrath of God” something like licked its chops at Jesus’ death<3>
Whatever the cross was, I think it’s as much a mistake to cling to any explanation that makes God sound like an ancient bloodthirsty deity as I think it is to dogmatize any other medieval doctrinal tic.<d>
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<1> I Corinthians 15:3-8 – an interesting run of “Greek-as-a-Second-Language” text within Paul’s acro-verb-ic text. Scholars argue strongly that this text dates back to within 5 years of Jesus’ resurrection.
<2> And they’re not the only scholars to point that out, e.g. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God
<3> In Christ Alone (Keith Getty/Stuart Townend). Some fellowships re-write that line, the original composers object.
<a> The history of this debate over the first 300 years or so of Christianity makes fascinating reading if you're into that sort of thing, but the best summary of the results of that debate are probably to be found in "The Apostles' Creed", "The Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed" and "The Chalcedonian Definition" -- all documented reasonably well on Wikipedia.
<b> In some framings, only some people, the chosen ones, are destined to be saved, others to be condemned. Using that term here, is a reference to those frames. The term itself shows up in a verse that confers no advantage on the elect, Matthew 24:24.
<c> "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
<d> if you're familiar with the pools of doctrinal positions either adamantly held to or adamantly opposed to by churches whose stream of thought stretches back to the 16th century or back through the times when Christendom dominated the west, you won't have to think too hard to figure out some of the things I'm pointing at with my elbow here. "iykyk" is a wonderful mnemonic, too!
