Holy Week Day 3: Thoughts on Divine Child-Abuse

I remember hearing an interview on NPR some time ago with an espoused atheist (whose name has since slipped my mind) who wrote a book dealing with the violence of what he labeled the "Christian" God. He invited his audience to ask how an ever-loving, good God could condemn anyone to hell, and how a just God could murder his own son as payment for the sins of others. This latter question is the one I'd like to open up in light of Holy Week.

Though I think the author's perspective is rooted somewhere between an ignorance of and a misinterpretation of the Christian narrative, such questions are nevertheless valid for anyone seeking to understand these acts, especially those outside the Church who have legitimate concerns, hesitations, and suspicions about it. Furthermore, it is no surprise, given the plethora of violent interpretations of the Cross perpetuated among many Churches, that one would choose atheism over barbarism.

If the Church is intentional about how it engages in such conversations, there are as many benefits to answering these questions as there are to having them answered. Too often in certain Christian circles, staunch defenders-of-the-faith jump at the chance to dismantle piecemeal tenets of atheism, carelessly dismissing the idea of divine child abuse as yet another example of how heretical 'the world' has become. (Never addressing what such a continuous downward spiral of culture would reveal about the effectiveness of the Church.)

I also think it's important to espouse the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity without using it as another tool to dismiss the question. It is valid to say that since Christ is God, the cross is not divine child abuse. Yet while true (albeit incomplete), this 'defense' leaves itself open to being boiled down to divine self-mutilation, which is no more attractive. Luckily, however, it is also valid to say that Christ has a separate personhood from God. In a real sense, Jesus is the Son of God, and while simultaneously focusing on this distinctiveness is scarier for some, it is the only way to address the situation accurately and fully in the context of the Christian narrative. For, we know that rather than God simply acting as some sort of medieval flagellant, Christ, in individual expression, humbled Himself, obedient and subservient even to the point of death.

That being said, I'd like to move on to an interpretation of the Cross which I have found deeply compelling, and I don't want to frame it as a 'defense,' (at least in the overly loaded sense of the word) as much as an 'articulation.' I don't think it's helpful or productive to answer these questions merely in opposition to atheism, the ermerging church, or what have you. I think the 'challenge' of atheism calls us to affirm and know and claim our own story, rather than militaristically defend it, trench by trench, as if it were a piece of territory.

I want to draw from Rene Girard's rich, anthropological conception of the cross. What I find of value in his interpretation is that the responsibility for the violence of the crucifixion is rightly placed on human beings, not God. As a sort of cliff note, Girard's historical setting might read like this: the Roman and Jewish governments both desired absolute authority and were, at the end of the day, violently at odds with one another. However, what was found in the figure of Jesus of Nazareth was a suitable scapegoat, whose violent destruction would appease both sides, at least for a brief period. It seems reasonable to say that neither the Governors nor the Sadduccees believed that Jesus was the Messiah, yet both (and for similar reasons) saw his elimination as being advantageous to solidifying their own claims to power. This conflict is indicative of the cycle of violence which has been in motion since Cain and Abel.

"Part of the problem in the history of Christian interpretation, beginning already with the fathers, was that the Passion was for them a unique event. That is understandable of course. They saw it as a unique event, a single, unique event in worldly history. It is indeed unique as revelation but not as a violent event. The earliest followers of Jesus did not make that mistake. They knew, or intuited, that in one sense it was like all other events of victimization since the foundation of the world. But it was different in that it revealed the meaning of these events going back to the beginnings of humanity: the victimization occurs because of mimetic rivalry, the victim is innocent, and God stands with the victim and restores him or her. If the Passion is regarded not as revelation but as only a violent event brought about by God, it is misunderstood and turned into an idol. In the Gospels Jesus says that he suffers the fate of all the other prophets going back to Abel the just and the foundation of the world (Matt. 23:35; Luke 11:50)." - The Girard Reader

As the preeminent scholar and theologian, Brian Robertson, said in a sermon this past Sunday, God did not cause the events surrounding the crucifixion, he used them. I think it's dangerous to say that from the beginning of time, God's intention was to have his son murdered, and furthermore that such a murder is the only way forgiveness could happen. I know this will open up the proverbial can of worms, but I think what Girard offers is an interpretation which seeks to describe the overflowing, selfless nature of God's love.

Furthermore, it's an interpretation which takes into account the wider story of God's continual work of redemption and salvation in his creation. If we look at Christ's conversation with Nicodemus, we hear him directly address how mankind is to receive the gift of salvation. While Christ knew this work would literally culminate on the cross, he chose to explain it to Nicodemus, who was undoubtedly well-versed in the Torah, by comparing himself to the bronze snake in the book of Numbers.

Just like the poisonous snakes in the desert, God chose to use the violence which theretofore had justly condemned humanity to death as a means to save us. The fact that Jesus is the only human being who has ever been truly innocent, makes him the ultimate skapegoat toward whose death humanity might look to in order to see their acts of violence for what they truly are. Christ's words become clearer and we understand why those who refuse to look to the cross and recognize their own faults will be condemned.

So we see how God, rather than using his son as a whipping boy and an outlet for his wrath, in his infinite love and mercy chose to sacrifice his Son so that all who look upon him will find the salvation he desperately wants us to accept.