Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Jesus died for....?




How would you end that sentence? The answer might role off your tongue or it may cause you to stumble. Whatever the case may be for you, it is a question that is being re-examined today. Why did Jesus die? And what (if anything) did his death accomplish?


I recently wrote a paper tracing the understanding of Christ's death as victory (Christus Victor) throughout church history. It is an ancient concept that has made headway in recent years. In essence the death of Jesus in the Christus Victor model is not a payment to God for the penalty of humanity's sin; rather it is the result of divine conflict with the powers of evil. Jesus assumes humanity within himself and suffers death in order to triumph over it through resurrection.

The ancients explained this phenomenon using metaphors that are not necessarily adequate today: Jesus died in order to trick the devil. He fooled the devil by offering his humanity in death; the devil took the bait and Jesus defeated him because his divinity could not be contained by death.

J. Denny Weaver, a modern Anabaptist theologian, recasts Christus Victor by describing it in a more historical/material way. He writes, Christ’s conflict took place with the evil forces here on earth. Jesus confronted the political power of Rome and the religious authority of Judaism. The kingdom that he inaugurated “establishes a new social order which stands over against – in confrontation with – the structures of this world.”*



Obviously there are many others who also utilizing the idea of Christ's death as victory. Liberation theologians recognize that in Christ, God joined in the sufferings of the oppressed and triumphed over their oppressors in resurrection. Black and Feminist theologians also recognize the importance of seeing Christ's death as victory. People who are oppressed resist the idea of passively submitting to suffering (in order to be saved or to save others) because too often it simply reinforces the tyrannical powers that be instead of critiquing them.

The crucifixion of God is too incredible, too absurd, too incomprehensible for us to completely explain. With that said, we must continue to faithfully offer our explanations of the pinnacle event in human history, knowing that we can only see dimly and that none of our theories have the monopoly on the death of God.


*J. Denny Weaver, “Atonement for the Nonconstantinian Church”, Modern Theology (6.04 July 1990) 308.

Friday, October 12, 2007

A Provoking Image

I feel like this picture captures the essence of what it is like to be a young theologian.


*Picture taken from the BBC. It is a gathering of Muslims in the Phillipines to celebrate Eid.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

What if the future has not happened?


In theology class the other night we were discussing the doctrine of God. Who is God? What can we know about God? How do we know God? Where is God? How does God relate to the world?


In our discussion group during class I posed a question along these lines: What if the future has not happened yet?


Some of us who live and think within a Christian context have the idea that the story has already played itself out (at least in the mind of God). What happens tomorrow in my life, in the events of the world, God has already seen/allowed/willed/ordained/known.


But what if it has not happened yet? Rather than starting a philosophical/theological argument over this issue (What must God know, in order to be God, etc...I also find is fascinating to examine the affects of doctrines/beliefs on people and communities as opposed to simply discussing what is "true" or "untrue"), how is your imaginative/creative impulse affected by the notion that the future has not happened yet. The story has not yet been written. Anything can happen.


Furthermore what if we thought of the eschatological visions of scripture as God's redemptive trajectory. How does that affect our imaginative/creative impulse?


One of my imaginative/creative impulses: When Tolstoy wrote a novel did God read along with anticipation? When Monet painted did God gasp at the beauty of the finished project? When Mozart composed his first symphony did God listen with wonder?