Ephesians 2:11-18What does the foolish Cross of Christ actually achieve? What is the purpose of it? Why did Jesus have to die? At some level, many people are beginning to ask these questions in the lead-up to Easter.
My fairly strong suspicion is that these are questions to which we all think we know the answers. And yet the Christian doctrine of the Cross has been one of the most hotly-debated subjects in the whole history of theology. Theologians as famous and as influential as Augustine, Peter Abelard, St. Anselm, Thomas Aquinas, even Luther and Calvin, all disagreed on the nature and purpose of the Cross. And so if we’re not perhaps as sure of the answer to these questions as we’d like to be, then we’re in pretty good company.
In fact, I actually suspect that we have grown up with some misconceptions about the purpose of the Cross; misconceptions which have skewed our understanding of Jesus, our understanding of ourselves, and our understanding of the relationship between Jesus and ourselves.
When Mel Gibson released his film The Passion of the Christ in 2003, it was received with a fair degree of controversy. Jewish groups, quite rightly IMHO, argued that it perpetuated the stereotype of Jews as ‘Christ killers’, and in doing so served to reinforce two thousand years’ worth of Christian-sponsored antisemitism.
On the other hand, though, the film was greeted by many conservative, evangelical and Catholic churches around the world as a major boost to the cause of the Gospel. Churches from widely divergent theological positions found themselves coming together in agreement on this film. Here at last, it was argued, was a mainstream Hollywood film that did not shy away from the graphic horror of the crucifixion. The death of Jesus was depicted in gruesome realism, so much so that it was not uncommon for people to have to leave the cinema after fainting or vomiting: the violence of this depiction of Jesus’ death was simply too great for many people to cope with.
And yet, this thoroughly bloodthirsty film was hailed by many churches and church leaders as a brilliant innovation in evangelism. Why? Because, so the argument went, now the whole world—not least of all, the cynical world of pop culture—would be confronted with the full and awful reality of what God was prepared to do in response to humanity’s sin. Here at last, in high-definition cinematography, was a realistic presentation of just how much our human wickedness cost God. Here are just a few quotes from influential church leaders:
Billy Graham: ‘Every time I speak or preach about the Cross, the things I saw on the screen will be on my heart and mind.’
Darrel Bock: Professor of New Testament at Dallas Theological Seminary, has argued in favour of keeping the film’s graphic violence, because it ‘causes everyone to reflect on what His death was.’
Cardinal George Pell: ‘a spiritual masterpiece.’
Max Lucado: ‘The images and the authenticity left our congregation spell-bound. The message went right to the heart…’
Cardinal Hoyos: ‘This film is a triumph of art and faith. It will be a tool for explaining the person and message of Jesus…It will bring people closer to God…’
All this fits neatly into what is probably the most familiar view of Jesus’ death: that he died ‘for our sins’, as a perfect and necessary sacrifice. Have you ever heard anyone say, or perhaps you’ve even said it yourself, that when Jesus went to the Cross he bore in himself the punishment for every sin that every human has ever committed, from Adam and Eve through to the present day, and in fact to the end of human history. And more than that, his death had to be so horrifically violent, in order for the just and rightful punishment for every sin to be properly accounted for. Does that sound familiar?
In other words, the implicit message of The Passion of the Christ, as well as the implicit message that lies behind many of our own theologies of the Cross, is that Golgotha is primarily the place where God expressed His anger; it is the place where God displayed His wrath against the sinfulness of humanity. And why did He do that? Because, so the argument goes, God is a completely righteous and just God who cannot bear for any violation of His honour or law to go unpunished, and so He had to ensure that every sin ever committed—yours, Hitler’s and Pol Pot’s—was dutifully punished to its full and proper extent. And knowing that in ourselves, we can never make appropriate restitution, or pay the necessary compensation for what we have done, God allowed the punishment for all these sins to fall upon His own Son, indeed to fall upon God Himself. And so the story of Jesus becomes primarily a story of sin, guilt and punishment. The whole of his life is seen as being merely a prelude to the main event, his sacrificial death on the Cross. His teachings, his miracles, his way of discipleship…all these things are regarded as being of merely secondary importance; of having value only in the light of his death.
All of this sounds very orthodox, thoroughly evangelical. But is it actually true? Is this actually what the New Testament teaches? Just have a think for a moment about what message this understanding of the Cross sends. Think about what sort of image of God is presented through this idea. Does Scripture in fact reveal to us a God who is primarily a strict disciplinarian? A God who more than anything else, is determined to make sure that every last ounce of restitution and justice is squeezed out of the system? A God who puts the satisfaction of legal and disciplinary requirements before everything else, as His top priority? A God who at the end of the day is actually pretty bloodthirsty, because only through the enactment of an extraordinarily cruel death penalty on His own Son is He finally satisfied?
If we view the Cross of Christ primarily through the lens of sin, guilt and punishment, then we inevitably end up with this sort of God. And what happens when we do? If this is the image of God we have, then we cannot but help feel as though we are now doubly obligated to him: first, by virtue simply of the fact that we sinned in the first place; and second, by virtue of the fact that he sacrificed His Son on our behalf. Far from liberating us from the burden of guilt, we now feel even more guilty and indebted. If it wasn’t for us, Jesus would never have had to die! What sort of guilt-trip does that put on us?
When we are constantly told that Jesus died ‘for our sins’; that he took the punishment that should have been ours; that it was our sin that nailed him to the Cross; that it was our fault that the Son of God was forsaken by his own Father…Then how can we be surprised when we feel even guiltier, and even more obligated to try to earn back the Father’s love and respect and pride? And so, the very thing that should liberate us from the burden of legalism actually makes us feel even more compelled to win back God’s favour. No wonder, that even though as Christians we know we live by grace, yet in fact we are so determined to live by law. More than that, it’s no wonder that we so often view God as someone whose default attitude towards us is stern disapproval; that He is a God who basically expects to be disappointed by us; who is constantly waiting for us to mess it up, yet again. Instead of seeing Him as a God who expects the best of us and yet who will also forgive the worst, we tend to see Him as a God who expects the worst, and who gets mildly surprised when we do anything much better than that. No wonder we work so hard to try to earn back His favour, as though we don’t already have it.
Is this really the God whom we serve and worship? Is this the God of whom Scripture speaks? Is this a God whom we would actually want to have a relationship with?
So how does the message of the Cross become truly Gospel, truly
good news, truly liberating?
It’s here that I think the passage from Ephesians sheds some light. According to Paul, the purpose of the Cross was this: that those who were far away from God would be brought near; that those who were hostile towards God and towards one another would have that hostility dissolved. As Paul says in v.15 of today’s text, ‘His [Jesus’] purpose was to create in himself one new person out of the two, thus making peace, and in his body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace, to you who were far away and to those who were near.’
Now certainly the immediate context in which Paul is speaking is the age-old conflict between Jews and Gentiles. It’s very clear, from this passage and from others, such as Rom.9-11, that what he sees Jesus doing is this: not removing the Jewish people from their relationship with God, but now also bringing Gentiles into that same covenantal communion. And so, in Christ, the dividing-wall of hostility between the two is broken down.
But there is nonetheless more to Paul’s message than this. In Paul’s view, what Christ preaches, and what God expresses at the Cross, is not primarily judgment or anger, but…peace. You see, the issue here is not us but God; it’s not our character as sinners that determines the nature and purpose of the Cross, but it’s God’s character. And what the entire span of Scripture shows is that God is not, in His essence, a law-giver or a disciplinarian. Remember that the Law at Sinai came after God’s commitment to be Israel’s God. The promise of relationship was first; the Law came second.
It’s not for nothing that the Bible says that God is Love. It doesn’t say that God is Law.
In other words, from the moment of creation onwards, both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures reveal to us a God who is, first and foremost, lovingly, covenantally, freely committed to being with us and for us.
This is the impulse that lies behind the Cross; not so much the satisfaction of law or of legal requirements; not so much the holy expression of God’s righteous anger; but, first and foremost, that we will be brought near again to God.
That is to say, the Cross is good news, not because it tries to make us feel more guilty or more obligated to earn back favour with God, but because it tells us that we already have that favour with God, as His free gift to us.
The Cross is about the restoration of relationship; it’s about the proclamation of peace; it’s about the end of violence, not its consummation. That’s why The Passion of the Christ has it so wrong. The garden in which we are invited by the Cross to walk, is not the painful Garden of Gethsemane, but the re-created Garden of Eden. The Cross is about the re-integration of ourselves into communion with God, so that, as in Eden, we can once again walk with Him ‘in the cool of the day, unashamed.’
Amen.
