Three Ways of Thinking about the Atonement

The death of Jesus left his followers devastated. As their promised messiah, they assumed he would deliver Israel from its oppressors in triumph and military might. Imagine their heartbreak when instead they witnessed his humiliating defeat as a common criminal on a Roman cross. From that moment on, every disciple was faced with difficult questions: Was all of this in vain? Was Jesus a failure, or was there some deeper purpose in his apparent defeat?

Among historians there is widespread agreement that the Judeo-Christian concept of a suffering servant, or of a savior who could somehow win by being defeated, was a unique theological innovation that had not been strongly articulated previously in human history. And this concept was destined to go viral in a benighted world that before could only conceive of victory as dominating one’s enemies. Viewed in this new light, the more the Christians were persecuted, the more they seemed victorious, and the stronger they became.

The suffering and death of Jesus has come to be called the atonement in the Christian world. Atonement is a word that was coined by the famous bible translator and Protestant martyr William Tyndale. It is the conjunction of two words, “at one,” with the noun ending -ment. Tyndale was searching for a singular description of this strange act of Jesus whose objective was to reunite humanity with God, to bring each of us, and every person who has ever lived and who will ever live to a state of being “at one” with God, with Christ, and with each other. During his suffering in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed that we might “all be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us” (John 17:21).

Along with Tyndale, we are indebted to several prior Christian thinkers who’ve tried to understand this mystery. We sometimes assume that the Restoration wiped the slate clean, but we still owe a great debt to theologians who have gone before us. From that moment of bitter disappointment on Golgotha, Christians have been trying to make sense of the atonement, to explain how it works, so that it can truly have power in their lives and ultimately be brought to pass.

It may seem strange to speak of the atonement as something that hasn’t yet been brought to pass, but Tyndale’s word itself helps us see why it might make sense to speak of it this way. It is painfully obvious that we aren’t yet fully “at one” with God or with humanity, as we witness the cruelty and enmity that so many harbor towards their neighbor, both in our personal lives, in our national discourse, and in foreign affairs. So this word “atonement” reminds us that there is still more work to do.

There are three main ways of thinking about the atonement that have shaped our views on the topic over the years, and that I’d like to explain briefly today. Each of these ways of thinking was articulated to some degree by early Christian church leaders, but some of them took several centuries to be fully developed. Each of them also has scriptural support, including the support of restoration scriptures like the Book of Mormon. Each of them also makes vital contributions to our understanding of the atonement. For handy reference, I’ll use a single word to refer to each of them: ransom, substitution, and influence.

One of the earliest theories that was first taught by early Christian leaders like Irenaeus and Origen in the second century was the ransom theory, which taught that Christ freed mankind from Satan’s control, allowing us to overcome sin and death. This theory claimed that the devil had exceeded his authority by torturing the sinless man Jesus, thus forfeiting his right to hold humanity hostage for its sinfulness. This may also sound familiar to those who’ve read the Chronicles of Narnia. In his allegory about a witch whose magic was undone when she couldn’t resist the opportunity to torture the blameless king Aslan, C. S. Lewis revived this ancient theory. In the Book of Mormon, we hear a similar concept from Jacob, who rejoices, “O the greatness of the mercy of our God, the Holy One of Israel! For he delivereth his saints from that awful monster the devil, and death, and hell, and that lake of fire and brimstone, which is endless torment” (2 Ne. 9:19).

While it explained some things, the ransom theory still left people with many questions. In the 11th century, a man named Anselm of Canterbury shared what he called the satisfaction theory, and which later came to be called the substitution theory of atonement. This theory explained that through sin, humanity had become indebted and could no longer dwell in God’s presence, and that cosmic justice demanded that this debt must be repaid. It taught further that through his suffering, Christ paid this debt, thus allowing humanity to return to God’s presence by complying with Christ’s conditions. Alma taught a similar concept to his son Corianton: “And thus we see that all mankind were fallen, and they were in the grasp of justice; yea, the justice of God, which consigned them forever to be cut off from his presence. And now, the plan of mercy could not be brought about except an atonement should be made; therefore God himself atoneth for the sins of the world, to bring about the plan of mercy, to appease the demands of justice, that God might be a perfect, just God, and a merciful God also.” (Alma 42:14-15)

This understanding is probably the most common way of describing the atonement today among both Christians in general and Latter-day Saints, but it still has some important limitations. By emphasizing human sinfulness and the possibility of forgiveness, the substitution theory tends to cause Christians to focus primarily on what they should do as individuals to get right with God and make the atonement efficacious in their personal lives, but too often this focus never goes beyond the individual’s relationship with God, neglecting our relationship with each other, seeming to entirely forget that we must eventually be at one not only with God, but also with our neighbor. Substitution often focuses on the reparation of damages, but not on the heaven that we should build in their place. How we think about the atonement influences our attitude towards God and our behavior towards our fellow human beings. In the words of American founder and skeptic Thomas Paine, “Belief in a cruel god makes a cruel man.”

In response to Anselm’s theory, a French theologian named Peter Abelard proposed what came to be called the moral influence theory of atonement. He felt like the idea of Jesus’s death as a ransom paid to the devil gave too much deference to Satan, and he also disliked the emphasis on God’s judgment. Rather than changing God’s view of humanity, Abelard thought that the purpose of the atonement was to change humanity’s view of God, from an offended, harsh and judgemental being to one of perfect love and compassion. According to Abelard, Jesus died to demonstrate God’s love, and this awareness can change the hearts and minds of sinners, inspiring them to become reconciled with God and with one another. Jesus is thus the example we should follow, not just the one who pays for our sins. His life influences all humanity through his brilliant example. For this reason, I’ve used the keyword influence to remind us of this third way of looking at the atonement. We are called to take the name of Christ upon us and imitate him, not just by doing good in the world, but also in his willingness to go beyond the ordinary expectations of human decency, to be a peacemaker and to take responsibility for sin and death even though he wasn’t the cause of it.

In the Book of Mormon, Nephi exhorts us to follow Christ’s example: “And he said unto the children of men: Follow thou me. Wherefore, my beloved brethren, can we follow Jesus save we shall be willing to keep the commandments of the Father?” (2 Nephi 31:10) We also hear the resurrected Christ explaining his role as exemplar: “my Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; and after that I had been lifted up upon the cross, that I might draw all men unto me.” (3 Ne. 27:15) Throughout his life, Jesus gave us a bright and shining example of how we should treat our neighbor, inviting us to “go and do … likewise.” (Luke 10:37) As I read the scriptures, I get the feeling that Jesus really means it when he invites us to follow him, and truly believes in our capacity to do so.

So the atonement doesn’t just consist in Jesus’s suffering, but also his entire life. Even his very coming into the world is a singular example of God’s love for humanity. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.” (John 3:16-17)

Balancing these views of atonement can help us to be reconciled not only with God but also with each other; it can help us focus not just on a zero-sum conception of repaid debts but on a vision of abundant flourishing in a harmonious Zion-like community; it can help us remember that the atonement isn’t complete until we are at one. As we understand the atonement more fully, we realize that it is not just an event, but a process, and that the work can never be complete if only Jesus does his part, as important as that part may be. As members of the body of Christ who have taken his name upon ourselves, we must join Jesus and together do the work of Christ.

Applying this deeper understanding to the second coming of Christ, we realize that if the individual Jesus returns to earth without a body of saints in Christ prepared to meet him, the second coming hasn’t fully taken place. Jesus, as head of the body of Christ, may have returned, but the rest of the body has not. Joseph Smith prophesied that the hearts of the human family must turn towards each other or “the whole earth would be utterly wasted at his coming” (D&C 2:3). The atonement hasn’t fully come to pass until we are at one, and Christ hasn’t fully returned until the body of Christ can be found upon the earth in its fullness, with all its members.

This can sometimes seem like a daunting prospect. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke may have described this feeling when he said, “What we choose to fight is so tiny! What fights with us is so great.” But I find comfort in Christ’s invitation to follow him, and in his willingness to share in the struggle with us. In our own small way, in our own lives, in our own family, in our own community, in our own ward, stake, and Church, and then in an ever growing circle, we can build Zion and prepare the world for the second coming of Christ.