Since posting
on my response to Evangelicals and the substitutionary atonement, I
seem to have got involved in some discussions with some Evangelicals. I
am still trying to work out whether this is a good thing or not, but it
has prompted me to want to post something on Orthodox understandings of
salvation. I recently listened to a lecture on “Salvation in Christ” by Metropolitan Kallistos (Ware) of Diokleia. This was part of The Way
course, (which I have been meaning to post about, but that will have to
wait). In any case, it seemed like a worthwhile introduction to the
topic of how salvation should be understood in Christian tradition and
so I decided to summarise it and make it available here. Part of my
motivation in doing so is that many western Christians, perhaps
particularly in South Africa, seem to automatically identify salvation
with the substitutionary atonement theory. Or, when they come to reject
that, they move into something totally subjective. And if I can help to
make people aware that the Tradition is actually broader and deeper than
these rather sterile alternatives, then that will probably be a good
thing. In any case, I’m posting this here. It’s long, but is worth
reading….
Metropolitan Kallistos begins recounting a rather typical story of
being asked “Are you saved?” by a man on a train. How is one to answer
such a question? And how are we to understand Christian salvation?
He then proceeds by pointing out that the New Testament does not
provide a single way of understanding the saving work of Christ, but
rather “a whole series of images and symbols set side by side. They are
symbols of profound meaning and power, yet for the most part they are
not explained but left to speak for themselves.” He suggests that we
should not isolate any one image of Christ’s work but should rather view
them together. In this talk he will highlight possible models of
salvation, but these are not exhaustive.
Underlying all six models is one fundamental truth, namely that
“Jesus Christ, as our Saviour, has done something for us that we could
not do alone and by ourselves. We cannot save ourselves; we need help. …
We could not come to God, so He has come to us.”
Metropolitan Kallistos then proposes four questions to help us evaluate each model.
- Does it envisage a change in God or in us? “Some theories
of Christ’s saving work seem to suggest that God is angry with us, and
what Christ has done is to satisfy God’s anger. But that cannot be
right. It is we who need changing, not God. As St. Paul said, ‘God was
in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself” (2 Corinthians 5:19). It is the world that needs to be reconciled to God, not God to the world.”
- Does it separate Christ from the Father? “Some theories
seem to suggest that God the Father is punishing Christ when He dies on
the Cross. I remember as a student in Oxford hearing that great
evangelical preacher Billy Graham say, “At the moment when Christ died
on the Cross the lightning of God’s wrath hit him instead of you.” I
didn’t find that a very happy way of thinking of Christ’s work. Surely
we should not separate Christ from the Father in that kind of way, for
they are one God, members of the Holy Trinity. As St Paul states, in the
words that I quoted just now, ‘God was in Christ’. When Christ saves
us, it is God who is at work in Him; there is no separation.”
- Does it isolate the cross from the Incarnation and the Resurrection?
“We are to think of Christ’s life as a single unity. So we should not
think only of the Cross, but we should think of what went before the
Crucifixion, and of what comes after.”
- Does it presuppose an objective or a subjective understanding of Christ’s work?
“Does Christ’s saving work merely appeal to our feelings, or did He do
something to alter our objective situation in an actual and realistic
way?”
Model 1: Teacher
First of all, we may
think of Christ as teacher, as the one who reveals the truth to us, who
brings light and disperses the dark of ignorance from our minds: ‘He was
the true light that enlightens everyone coming into the world’ (John
1:9). He saves us by teaching us the truth about God. This was exactly
the way in which His disciples thought of Him at the beginning when they
called Him ‘Rabbi’, which means teacher. Later, of course, they
realized He was not just a human teacher but something far more. This
first model was adopted in particular by the group of second century
writers known as the Apologists, the most famous of whom was Justin
Martyr.
Considering the four questions, Metropolitan Kallistos points out
that it passes the first three questions, for the change is in us not in
God, there is no separation between Jesus and the Father, and it does
not isolate the Cross but embraces Christ’s whole life. However,
…difficulties arise over
this fourth question. Christ opens our minds by His teaching, but does
He then leave us to carry out His teaching simply by our own efforts?
Has He actually changed our objective situation? More specifically, we
do not merely need to be instructed, but we need to be saved from sin.
So this first model embraces part of the truth, but not the whole, for
it leaves out the tragedy and the anguish of sin.
Model 2: Ransom
The second image is that of Christ paying a ransom on our behalf, for
“The Son of God came not to be served but to serve, and to give His
life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). The point of this metaphor is
that whereas we were previously enslaved to sin, now we are liberated,
for “Christ has set us free” (Galatians 5:1). This is a costly ransom,
involving the laying down of Christ’s life on the Cross. However,
Metropolitan Kallistos continues,
Let us remember that this
is only an image or metaphor, not a systematic theory; and let us
therefore not attempt to press the metaphor too far. It is wise not to
ask: To whom is the ransom paid? In fact, the New Testament
does not actually ask that question. If we say, “the ransom is paid to
God the Father”, then we are in danger of separating Christ from His
Father, and of thinking of the Father as angry and vindictive, and
demanding payment. Surely God is not like that: He does not require
payment, but forgives us freely. Should we then say that the payment is
paid to the devil? That is an answer that the Fathers, Greek and Latin,
have often given; but it creates major problems. It seems to suggest
that the devil has rights or claims upon us, and that cannot be true.
The devil has no rights; he is a liar. The essential point of the ransom
metaphor is not transaction or bargain but liberation. It is better not
to ask who is being paid, but to stick to the basic point: Christ has
set us free.
Applying his four questions of evaluation, Metropolitan Kallistos
concludes that there is no problem with the first, for the change is not
in God but in us. There is no problem with the second as long as we
don’t see Christ as paying a ransom to the Father, in which case there
will indeed be a danger of separating them. In terms of the third
question, while the ransom model concentrates on the Cross, it need not
do so exclusively, for it is His whole life which has set us free. And
the fourth question shows the strength of this model compared to the
first model, for “In setting us free, Christ has indeed altered our
objective situation.”
Model 3: Sacrifice
With the model of sacrifice Metropolitan Kallistos argues that “we
enter deep waters”. Today the idea of sacrifice has lost much of its
meaning, whereas in the ancient world it was taken for granted. The Old
Testament knew different kinds of sacrifice, yet we do not find a
definition of it, or of how it works. In the New Testament
Christ is seen as fulfilling the sacrifices of the Old Covenant more especially in two ways:
i. “Christ our Paschal
lamb has been sacrificed” (1 Corinthians 5:7); “Behold, the Lamb of God,
who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). Here Christ is seen
as the Paschal Lamb, eaten by the Jews at the Passover in memory of the
Exodus from Egypt (see Exodus 12). Christ’s death on the Cross and His
Resurrection is the New Passover.
ii. “He is the atoning sacrifice (hilasmos)
for our sins (1 John 2:2). This recalls the sacrificial ritual on the
Jewish Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), when the people were sprinkled
with blood to cleanse them from their sins (Leviticus 16:23, 27-32). In a
similar way the blood of Jesus, sacrificed for us, cleanses us from all
sin (1 John 1:7). The sacrifice on the Day of Atonement is recalled in
particular when our Lord institutes the Eucharist, saying: “This is my
blood of the (new) covenant, which is poured out for many for the
forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28).
Metropolitan Kallistos suggests that in order to understand the meaning of sacrifice we need to understand:
- that a sacrifice is an offering or gift made to God;
- that a true sacrifice involves the offering not of some object or animal, but of ourselves;
- that the true purpose of sacrifice is not death but life. “If the
victim is slain, that is not because its death has value as an end in
itself, but so that its life may be offered to God. According to the
understanding of the Old Testament, the life of an animal or human being
resides in the blood; and thus by the pouring out of the victims blood,
its life was released and made available, so as to be offered up to
God.
- a true sacrifice must necessarily be voluntary.
Applying this to the sacrifice we can say that Christ is offered up
to God, that He offers Himself in sacrifice, that He dies that we may
have life, something that is made clear by the linking of His Cross with
His Resurrection, and that He laid His life down freely on our behalf.
Underlying this idea of sacrifice as voluntary self-offering is the all important factor of love:
Why does Christ lay down
His life? Out of love: “…having loved his own who were in the world, he
loved them to the end” (John 13:1); “For Go so loved the world that he
gave his only Son” (John 3:16). Love, then, is the key to the key to the
whole idea of sacrifice. Sacrifice is voluntary self-offering, inspired
by love – love to the uttermost, love without limits.
Recalling our four
questions, we may say: there is indeed a danger of stating the
“sacrifice” model in such a way as to suggest that the change is in God,
not us (question 1), that Christ is separated from the Father (question
2), that the Cross is to be isolated from the rest of our Lord’s life
(question 3). But this danger is largely avoided if the element of love
is emphasized. In that case, Christ’s sacrifice is seen as an expression
of God’s unchanging love; the sacrifice of love alters us, not God,
there is no separation between the Father and Son. Moreover, the whole
of Christ’s life, from the Incarnation onwards, is a sacrifice or
offering to God; so the Cross is not isolated.
Linked to the idea of sacrifice, Metropolitan Kallistos discerns two variants on this theme.
Model 3, variant 1: Satisfaction
This is the theory developed by Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109) who applied the principles of feudal society to the atonement.
Human sin, he argued, has
offended God’s honour; satisfaction must be given to the Father in
recompense for His offended honour, and this satisfaction has been
rendered by Christ on our behalf. For all its popularity, this theory
has two grave disadvantages: 1. It interprets salvation in legalistic
categories, rather than as an act of divine love; 2. The notions of
honour and satisfaction, while reflecting medieval feudalism, are not to
be found in the Bible.
Model 3, variant 2: Substitution
This idea, that Christ bears our sins in our person and suffers
instead of us, does have biblical roots and is seen as fulfilling the
Old Testament prototypes of the sacrificial scapegoat (Leviticus
16:20-22) and the Suffering Servant (Isaiah 53:4-7). Jesus is seen as
taking our sins upon himself and enduring the punishment that we deserve
to undergo.
Evaluating this model, Metropolitan Kallistos comments:
Now in this substitution
model it is clear that the change is in us, not in God (question 1); but
we must be careful not to understand the model in such a way as to
separate Christ from God, as Billy Graham unfortunately did (question
2). Also there is a danger that the idea of substitution may turn
Christ’s work of salvation into a transaction that is somehow external
to us, in which we are not directly and immediately involved. Jesus does
indeed suffer for our sins, but we need to be associated with His act
of sacrificial suffering and to make that our own. It is legitimate to
say “Christ instead of me”, but we should balance that by saying, “Christ on behalf of me”, and also “Christ in me and I in Him”. Substitution language should be combined with the language of indwelling.
Model 4: Victory
Metropolitan Kallistos describes this model as follows:
Here Christ’s work of
salvation is seen as a cosmic battle between good and evil, between
light and darkness. Dying on the cross and rising from the dead, Christ
is victor over sin, death and the devil. This victory is summed up in
the last word that He spoke on the Cross, Tetelestai (John
19:30), which is usually translated “It is finished”. But this is not to
be seen as a cry of resignation or despair. Christ is not just saying,
“It’s all over. This is the end”, but He is affirming, “It is
accomplished. It is fulfilled. It is completed”. For other examples of
the victory motif, see Collossians 2:15: “[God] disarmed the
principalities and powers and made a public example of them, triumphing
over them in it [through the Cross]”; and also Ephesians 4:8: “When He
ascended on high, He led captivity captive” (quoting Psalm 68:18).
The Father who
particularly uses the idea of victory is St Irenaeus of Lyons at the end
of the second century. If you want to see the idea of victory lived
out, then think above all of the Paschal Midnight Service, with its
constant refrain, Christos anesti ek nekron, “Christ is risen
from the dead, trampling down death by death”. Think also of the
marvellous sermon attributed to St John Chrysostom, read at the end of
matins or at the Liturgy, with its overwhelming sense of triumphant joy.
The same note of victory is found in Latin hymns for Pascha: “Death and
life have contended in that combat tremendous. The Prince of Life who
died reigns immortal.”
The advantage of this victory model is that it holds together the
Cross and the Resurrection which are seen as a single event. Christ’s
death itself is a victory, though it remains hidden. When the
myrrhbearing women come to the tomb and proclaim its emptiness, and when
Christ appears, the victory is made manifest.
The disadvantage of the victory model is that it can appear
militaristic, portraying Christ’s work as some sort of coercive power.
It is therefore important to point out that this is a victory not of
superior force or of militaristic power, but of suffering love.
On the Cross Christ is victorious through His weakness, through His self-emptying, through His kenosis, to use the Greek term. So a victory, yes, but a kenotic victory.
This kenotic victory becomes clear when we link the cry of “it is
finished” on the Cross to Saint John’s account of the washing of the
feet where he described Jesus as loving them to the end. (John 13:1)
when Christ says “It is finished”, telelestai, the Evangelist intends us to think back to what was said four chapters earlier, “Having loved His own, He loved them to the end”, eis telos.
From this we understand exactly what is finished on the Cross, what is
fulfilled: it is the victory of love. Despite all the suffering,
physical and mental, inflicted upon Him, Jesus goes on loving humankind;
His love is not changed into hatred. We are to see the victory then not
as a military victory but as the victory of suffering love, unchanging
love, love without limits. As the Protestant theologian Karl Barth said,
“The Christian God is great enough to be humble”. And that’s what we
see above all in His victory on the Cross. God is never so strong as
when He is most weak.
Model 5: Example
This model is associated with another Latin writer, Peter Abelard
(1079-1142/3) who sees Christ’s life and death as the supreme example of
love in action and which evokes a response in us, drawing us to emulate
this love. Metropolitan Kallistos points out that many modern western
Christians have been attracted by this model, because it moves
completely away from the notion of God as angry, jealous, vindictive,
and blood-thirsty, and from legalistic categories like satisfaction.
Moreover this model does not separate Christ from the Father nor does it
isolate the Cross from the rest of Christ’s life.
But the difficulty comes
in with question 4. If Christ has merely set us an example, does that
mean we have then to follow that example by our own efforts? Has Christ
objectively changed things?
Metropolitan Kallistos argues that, understood in the right way, this
model can be understood as involving an objective change in our
situation, for “love is an objective energy in the universe”.
love is a creative,
enabling force. Our love alters the lives of others. And if this is true
of our human love, it is much more true of the divine-human love of
Christ our Saviour. By loving us He does not just set us an example but
He changes the world for us, giving us a meaning and hope that we could
not otherwise discover. So the love of another for me infuses into me a
transfiguring force, a transformative power. Love enables, just as
hatred depotentiates. This is true of our inter-human relationships, but
it is much more true of the love poured out upon us by the Son of God.
Where love is concerned, the subjective/objective contrast breaks down.
Metropolitan Kallistos then points out that it is this theme of
suffering love that unites the third, fourth and fifth models when they
are rightly understood.
What makes Christ’s death
a redeeming sacrifice is precisely that He offers Himself willingly in
love (model 3). The victory of Christ is nothing else than the victory
of kenotic, suffering love (model 4). And the example of this suffering love alters our lives and fills us with grace and power (model 5).
Model 6: Exchange
This model is understood as a mutual sharing and takes the
Incarnation as its starting point. In it, Christ takes on our humanity
“and in exchange He enables us to share in His divine grace and glory.
As St Paul expresses it,
speaking metaphorically in terms of riches and poverty: “Though He was
rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that through His poverty you
might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9). The riches of Christ are His
heavenly glory; our human poverty means our fallen condition, our
alienation and brokenness. Christ shares in our brokenness – in our
anguish, our loneliness, our loss of hope – and so we are enabled by way
of exchange to share in His eternal life, becoming “partakers of the
divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4).
St Irenaeus of Lyons
expresses the same point in more direct terms: “In His unbounded love,
He became what we are, so as to make us what He is”. St Athanasius of
Alexandria (c. 296-273) is yet more succinct: “He became man, that we
might become God”. We could also translate the phrase: “He became
incarnate, that we might be ingodded”, or “He was humanized, that we
might be deified”.
This sixth model encourages us to think of salvation as theosis
or deification: salvation is not just a change in our legal status
before God, it is not just an imitation of Jesus through moral effort,
but it signifies an organic, all-embracing transformation of our created
personhood, through genuine participation in divine life. Equally this
sixth model can be spelt out in terms of healing. St Gregory of
Nazianzus (329-389), or Gregory the Theologian, as he is known in the
Orthodox Church, affirmed with reference to the Incarnation, “The
unassumed is unhealed”. Christ, that is to say, has shared totally in
our humanness – He has taken up into Himself our human nature in its
entirety – and in this way He has healed us and transfigured us.
I am being saved
Metropolitan Kallistos concludes by pointing out that there are other
aspects of salvation that he has not discussed here, especially its
social and ecclesial nature.
He then returns to the question of salvation that he posed at the beginning of the talk: Am I saved?
I might have answered,
“Yes, I am saved”. But might not that have been somewhat over-confident?
Long after his conversion on the road to Damascus, St Paul expressed
the fear that, “after preaching to others, I myself should be
disqualified” (1 Corinthians 9:27). God is faithful, and He will not
change; but we humans, as long as we are in this life, retain free will
and so, up to the end of our life, we are in danger of falling away. As
St Anthony of Egypt (251-356) warned us, “Expect temptations until your
last breath”. I am on a journey and that journey is not yet completed.
However, it would be rather pointless for him to have answered that he was not saved, and
Thus I thought that the best way of answering was to say, “I trust by God’s mercy I am being saved”. In other words, let us use the present tense, but in the form of the continuous present: not “I am saved” but “I am being
saved”. Salvation, that is to say, is a process. It is not just a
single event, but an ongoing journey, a pilgrimage that is only
completed at the moment of our death.
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