Love, Not Atonement: Reflections on the Incarnation and Paschal Mystery

Love, Not Atonement: Reflections on the Incarnation and Paschal Mystery

This year, the feast of the Annunciation falls just a few days before Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. The proximity of the two feasts brings to mind the connection between the Incarnation and the Paschal mystery, and these questions: Why did Jesus come into the world and what is the meaning of his death on the cross? Big Questions. Impossible to answer but not to ponder.

Growing up, I couldn’t believe God, who created everything and who loved us all, needed Jesus to be tortured and crucified to make up for the sin of Adam and Eve and the rest of us. I attended Catholic schools and my share of Lenten services, including the Stations of the Cross. Church rituals and liturgies spoke to me, but the Stations of the Cross left me sad and confused.

God loved us and made the earth and everything on it, my teachers said. The stars. The planets. Whatever else was out there. And God was born to be with us always. That’s what Emanuel meant: God-with-us. That image of God didn’t fit with a vengeful Deity who demanded Jesus suffer and die because people sinned.

As I grew, thought the disconnect remained unresolved, it didn’t claim my time or attention. Let theologians hash it out if they must. I ignored the claims of a vindictive God and trusted my experience of a merciful one. I knew there were consequences for sin and that my own contributed to the corruption of the world and to the suffering of the Christ who dwells in all. I knew it affected the planet I live on and that I needed forgiveness and a deep transformation of heart.

But I never believed that God demanded a horrible death to put things right.

Later I learned there were names for theories like this: substitutionary atonement, for example, and that it was not the only theory. There had been and are other ways of understanding what Scripture has to say about the Incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Of course, God is God with wisdom beyond human imagining. Being “right” isn’t the goal. Yet, human beings look for meaning.

During my studies for an MA in theology, a professor introduced me to the medieval, Franciscan theologian, John Duns Scotus (c. 1266-1308), who did not agree with interpretations that held the Incarnation was necessary because of human sin or that Jesus’s crucifixion was the sacrifice required to pay a debt. The incarnation wasn’t a rescue plan. It was always the plan. Jesus came to reveal the face of Divine Love and to show how it looked to live that out as a human being. Then he asked us to do the same.

Close up of two hands clasped in support. One hand is dark. The other light.
Photo: Mary van Balen

Citing John Duns Scotus and the Franciscan “alternative orthodoxy” that he espoused, Richard Rohr, OFM, connects Christmas and Easter: “… Christmas is already Easter because in becoming a human being, God already shows that it’s good to be human, to be flesh. The problem is already somehow solved. Flesh does not need to be redeemed by any sacrificial atonement theory.”

The incarnation led to crucifixion because of the state of the world, not because of God’s demands. Jesus stretched his arms out on the cross because a sinful world could not deal with his radical Love. He stood with the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed. His life and teaching were threatening to those in power, both political and religious, who kept these people on the fringes. The requirements of Love to forgive, to serve, to embrace the other, to reverence the Divine within every person and treat them with the respect and care all deserve, to love enemies – it was too much to ask. And so, the broken world executed the one who was Love.

And God wept.

This Holy Week, I will remember the Incarnation and the call to participate in Love. I will ponder how my living contributes to it and how it undermines it. I will ask forgiveness. But more than that, I will pray for courage to open my heart and change my ways, to contribute to Love and not to intolerance, hatred, fear, or violence.

The Incarnation says I am with you. The crucifixion says accepting the invitation to follow Jesus’s example of being Love has consequences. The Resurrection says that in the end, Love is what lasts. Always.  

Featured image: Photo taken by author in Saint Johns University Alcuin Library, Collegeville, MN, 2009.

Sculptor: Paul Granlund

©2021 Mary  van Balen

The Challenge and Grace of Embracing Truth

The Challenge and Grace of Embracing Truth

We are often afraid of the truth. Rather than experiencing it as a way to experiencing a deeper reality, we see it as something that up ends our world, threatens our sense of security, and even our sense of self. We have found a comfortable place to “fit in,” and we don’t want anyone or anything to disturb it. It’s how we make sense of the world.

Jesus brought the challenge of truth with him and he certainly disturbed the religious status quo of his time. Many religious leaders and officials didn’t see how they would fit in to his world view. They had narrowed their vision to see the world through their lenses of laws and rituals and understanding of history that made sense to them and that assured their place in it. Jesus and his truth were a threat and, as we observe on Good Friday, he was murdered for it.

photo of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

April 10 was the anniversary of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, (1846-1955), Jesuit priest, scientist (geologist and paleontologist), theologian, and mystic whose work informed his spirituality. Much of what he wrote and spoke about was unacceptable to some who had the authority to deny his ability to publish, teach, or lecture.

Despite the censure of his work, he remained faithful to his vows of obedience and to the church, as painful and disheartening as it was. After his death, his work was published and has informed much current theology and spirituality. If you are familiar with the work of Richard Rohr, to mention only one, you will have been introduced in some way to Teilhard’s theology of evolution on both a physical and spiritual level and the incarnation of God in all matter.

I have always believed that sincere seekers of truth, whatever their field of study, spiritual path, or human experience, will come eventually to the same place: The Holy One who is Truth.

In The Gallery of Paleontology and Comparative Anatomy, part The National Museum of Natural History Paris, France
PHOTO: Mary van Balen

One night, when my middle daughter was five, I went upstairs to check on her and found her wide awake.

“Mom,” she said, “I don’t know what to do. I love God, but I love science, too. Some people say that people and dinosaurs lived at the same time. That the Bible talks about everything being created at once. But dinosaurs and people didn’t live together. Paleontologists know that.”

She sighed “I don’t know which to choose, God or science.”

“The good news is you don’t have to choose,” I said. The Bible isn’t a science book. The writers of the Bible were telling stories and sharing history that pointed to the truth as they knew it about God. They were truth seekers.

Scientists are looking for truth, too. Sometimes they have to change what they thought because a new discovery proves it wrong. But they keep observing and experimenting.

All truth leads to God. So, you don’t have to worry. The Bible. Science. Truth. Eventually, they take you to the same place.”

She smiled. “I’m glad,” she said, then rolled over and went to sleep.

First photo of a black hole
Credit: Event Horizon Telescope Collaboration

Seeking truth and accepting it when it isn’t what’s expected takes openness and humility as well as courage. History is full of examples. In our own time, new discoveries and understandings in many fields challenge the status quo. What do we know of race, of the cosmos, of human psychology, of the effect of human activity on our planet? Truth is always drawing us forward into new territory.

“Conventional truth” confronted Jesus as he entered Jerusalem. It made sense to his palm-waving, excited followers, caught up in signs and wonders. Of course, he would be King. It made sense to them, but not to Jesus.

Jesus refused to deny the truth of who he was. He had a message for all people, for all creation that transcended religion, politics and power. His work was to proclaim the radical love of God for all and in all.

That truth was hard for his followers to accept. It certainly turned their world upside down. For some it was too much to accept.

The same is true for us. Jesus’s message and our slowly evolving way of experiencing it is a challenge. It requires us to both let go and to accept. We can never understand God. But we can believe that always, God is drawing all things closer to the Divine Self until one day, we will understand that, mysterious as it is, we are one.

© 2019 Mary van Balen