The Fallacy of the Atonement Doctrine

The tragic misconception that God decreed Jesus' barbaric death.

Most of us who were raised in one of the many Christian religions were taught that Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sins.  In fact, this seems to be the primary tenet of Christian dogma, and there are many bible excerpts that would appear to support this idea.  However, a deeper analysis reveals that the atonement doctrine is a misconception resulting from several factors, including (but not limited to) errors of translation and interpretation, personal biases and agendas held by biblical authors, notably Paul of Tarsus, a reluctance to embrace new revelations of God, and the incorporation of many aspects of paganism into early Christianity.  Perhaps most importantly, this concept stands in complete contradiction to the actual teachings of Jesus.  Is it possible that we have been taught something about God that is not only wrong, but an assault on his true nature?   Do we humans hold ourselves to a higher standard of morality than we hold God?  In the process of trying to answer these and other questions, I have concluded what I intuitively knew even as a young child—that it would be shockingly unfair of God to demand the sacrifice of his beloved, innocent son to absolve us of our sins—a notion that, in any other scenario, would be perceived as utterly inconceivable and inhumane.

When I asked proponents of the atonement doctrine why God would require something so horrific as the crucifixion of Jesus, it was frequently asserted that we can’t presume to understand the ways of God.  But if that’s the case, why would Jesus have repeatedly stated, and he did, “Be you perfect even as my Father in heaven is perfect” if we aren’t capable of understanding God’s morality?  The truth is, God is not convoluted or mysterious in his dealings with human sin—all that he asks of us is that we sincerely desire to be forgiven.  Jesus constantly exhorted his followers to forgive one another as God forgives us; in response to Peter asking how often we should forgive others he replied, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”  Further, he presented an updated and upgraded level of morality when he replaced the Old Testament teachings of “an eye for an eye” with “turn the other cheek.”  Not once in all of Jesus’ teachings does he promote sacrifice, punishment, or retribution.

One individual stated that Jesus was the perfect sacrifice because he was sinless.  This strikes me as downright absurd, as it portrays God as either sadistic and/or masochistic, or–under the control of some other, greater power.  Why would God demand something that is so cruel even to himself—that his beloved, sinless son suffer a horrific death to somehow compensate for the wrongdoings of his imperfect children?  And if it wasn’t God who decreed this, was he answering to some higher, more powerful, yet arbitrarily punitive entity?  The more we explore the rationale behind the atonement doctrine, the less merit it holds.

How, then, did we come to accept this ideology and make it such an integral component of Christianity, if it is so wrong?  And not only wrong, but in complete philosophical contradiction to everything Jesus taught and demonstrated!  In the times of Jesus, Jewish theology dictated that animal and food sacrifices were necessary to appease or win favor with God.  The Torah instructed that korban—the term for sacrificial tokens, many of which were burned—be offered as a way to show honor and respect for God.  Yet later in the Old Testament we find contradictions to these teachings:  In Hosea 6:6, God stated, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice [italics mine], the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”  Jesus made reference to that verse on at least two occasions (which we find in Matthew 9:13 and 12:7).  In efforts to clarify the discrepancy between the teachings, Jesus told his disciples, “Go and learn what this means:  ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’”  But humans can be reluctant to let go of deeply ingrained teachings, and indeed, many of Jesus’ followers were resistant to new revelations of truth, despite the fact that he—God’s flesh and blood representative—instructed them otherwise.  

Even the apostles, who lived with Jesus nearly every day for more than four years, often struggled to accept his teachings if they contradicted well-established religious dogma.  Another example was the tradition of the anticipated messiah-–a king of the Jewish people who would deliver them from foreign oppression.  Countless times Jesus insisted he would never assume the role of a national king, instead declaring, “My kingdom is not of this world,” yet many of his followers continued to project the role of messiah upon him.  Some speculate that it was partly Judas Iscariot’s disillusionment in hearing that Jesus would not be an actual king, and thus not appoint him and other apostles to significant political positions, that drove him to betray the Master to the Sanhedrin.

Judaism was not the only religion of those times that used sacrifice as a means to curry favor with God; many of the pagan and mystery cults indulged in similar rituals.  Paul, one of the greatest contributors to the establishment of Christianity, studied Mithraism and Zoroastrianism while writing the letters that we now find throughout the New Testament.  In his Epistle to the Hebrews, 9:13 and 9:14, Paul writes:  "For if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of an (h)eifer sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh: How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?"  In efforts to convert followers of Mithraism to Christianity, Paul incorporated many of their teachings; the Jews did not sacrifice bulls or heifers as korban; that was a Mithraic ritual.  And there are other examples of Mithraic teachings that were assimilated into Christian dogma, which I identify in another essay entitled The Nature of God.  

Indeed, we can probably hold Paul largely responsible for the atonement doctrine, directly or indirectly.  Some biblical scholars assert that his writings were subjected to errors of translation and/or misinterpretation.  John B. Cobb, Jr., PhD, Professor of Theology Emeritus at the Claremont School of Theology states, “Accordingly, there is also some importance in deciding whether the imposition [of the atonement doctrine] was by Paul or on him.”  Cobb explores this in depth in his lecture  Did Paul Teach the Doctrine of the Atonement? which can be found at the Religion Online website.  Either way, the majority of references to the atonement doctrine in the New Testament are found in Paul’s writings, or derivations therefrom.  Interestingly, Paul was also responsible for the unfortunate characterization of women as unclean or unworthy, directly contradicting the practices and teachings of Jesus, who openly challenged social mores of that time by discoursing with women in public, and including them as his disciples.

It may also be the case that when asking why God allowed Jesus to die such a horrible death, many arrived at the conclusion that he required it; otherwise, why didn’t he or Jesus intervene and prevent it?  We know that Jesus healed the sick and even raised Lazarus from the dead.  It would only make sense that if he wanted to, he could have used those same powers to escape his own death, so why didn’t he?  I believe both God and Jesus chose not to interfere with the natural course of events, nor with human free will, as they related specifically to the unfolding of the life of Jesus.  If God had intervened and prevented Jesus’ crucifixion, we would expect him to step in every time anyone acts with cruelty upon another, or whenever a natural catastrophe occurs.  It is perhaps even more significant that God unequivocally respects and upholds the free will that he, himself, bestowed upon us.  It doesn’t make sense that he would arbitrarily revoke that free will to suit his desires; accordingly, he allowed human actions to unfold without intervention.  Jesus likewise elected not to use his divine powers to evade even a wholly undeserved and unjust punishment; instead, he chose to do his father’s will, and as such, to respect ours.

Jesus had to have known that in time there would be great benefits to humanity as a result of his brutal death.  First, it allowed him to display the acme of human love and forgiveness to his transgressors, thereby demonstrating in person the same teachings that he had for years exhorted his disciples to practice, even to the extent of asking his father to forgive the very people who had inflicted horrific pain and humiliation upon him, while enduring that torment.  He also knew that his untimely, unjust death at the hands of wicked, selfish humans, would result in his teachings being forever remembered.  Finally, his premature death provided an opportunity to rise from the dead, demonstrating once and for all that he was of both human and divine origin.  Allowing good to come from evil is a lesson we all can learn from Jesus; that is, how to transform a tragic occurrence into an opportunity for goodness to prevail.

Here’s another consideration:  Why use evil personalities to accomplish something that was supposedly for the good of all humanity?  Why didn’t the apostles or even Jesus himself orchestrate his death, if it was truly God’s will?  If it is true that God wanted or required this, we are faced with a paradox, because that makes Judas, a self-serving disloyal coward, a hero for betraying Jesus to the Sanhedrin and supposedly satisfying God’s demand.  And if it were the case that God decreed the death of his son, why, then, did Jesus implore on behalf of all humans who played a role, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”?

I suspect that on some level, many of us are willing, if not eager, to believe that Jesus died to save us from our sins because it lets us off the hook—Jesus took the punishment for our past and future sins, even for those of our ancestors, so that we don’t have to worry about it.  But how selfish and lazy is that?  This view absolves us from all personal responsibility for our own destinies.  Furthermore, it reduces us to operating at the most primitive level of morality—the idea that we (in this case, Jesus) can pay a price and all is forgiven.  And yet–we are also taught that in spite of Jesus’ supposed sacrifice, we will still be condemned to hell if our sins too are too great, or if we neglect to go to confession.  And why do we need to be baptized if our theoretical original sin was erased by Jesus’ death on the cross? If all of that is true, was his sacrifice in vain?  I firmly believe that the atonement doctrine--and the notions of original sin and hell–are erroneous concepts that were generated by humans.

This leaves us–for now–with a final question:  If Jesus did not come here to save us from our sins, why did he live among us and die as a human?  Jesus did this to bring man closer to God, and God closer to man; to disclose God’s true nature to us, and to experience first hand the full range of trials and tribulations of the human condition.  That he came to reveal God to us is supported by his repeated statement, “He who has seen me has seen the Father.”  Accordingly, we should study Jesus’ actions and his teachings to unveil God’s true nature.  Did Jesus ever ask a human parent to sacrifice their innocent child to atone for the sins of an erring one?  Never!  Likewise, in all of his sermons, Jesus portrayed God as a supremely loving, extraordinarily merciful father.  

A prime example is the parable of the prodigal son, which conveys God’s infinite capacity for forgiveness, and his emphasis on rewarding goodness over punishing sin.  There is something particularly revealing in this story in that Jesus mentions the older, obedient son’s sense of unfairness when his younger brother is rewarded for coming home, even after years of selfishly squandering his inheritance.  By using this parable, Jesus acknowledges our human sense of justice, yet he calls us to step up to a higher level of morality, one demonstrated by the father’s utter joy at his errant son’s return home.  Many of us might desire a more primitive form of justice, wherein sinners are sent to hell or they pay some other, dire price for their sins, and some of us may even derive a sense of satisfaction when we see others get their just desserts, but this reflects a human level of morality, not God’s.  And that is why it is so apparent that it was we humans–and not God–who conceived the idea of the atonement doctrine.

Jesus also lived among us so he could liberate us from unnecessary rituals and stifling doctrines imposed by institutionalized religious dogma, and in doing so, he showed us the most direct path to God.  Many religions evolved out of primitive superstitious beliefs and unfortunately carried with them the illogical notion that we can somehow manipulate the gods with our words, actions, or gifts.  Jesus never encouraged this; he simply invited his disciples to “Follow me,” and to “Love one another as I loved you.”  He made it clear that each and every one of us can and should foster a personal relationship with God, independent of perfunctory rites and rituals.  It was the very fact that Jesus so threatened the authority of the Jewish religious leaders that resulted in their demand that he be crucified.  This was not God’s doing, nor his will.

What a heinous assault upon God and his true nature to conclude that because Jesus professed that he came to show us the way to salvation—to a life eternal—that God required his torturous death to fulfill that promise!  The atonement doctrine is horribly, horribly wrong.  It is time, once and for all, to put to rest the primitive, barbaric notion that God demanded the inhumane killing of his son Jesus as some sort of ransom to atone for our sins and those of our ancestors.  And when we do abandon this perverse concept, we can finally know God as he really is—the supremely just and loving father who is capable of far more mercy than we as humans could ever imagine.

NOTE: Once again, I would like to acknowledge Oliver Codd for his contributions to this essay. It is because of our many in-depth discussions on this topic over the course of at least a year, along with his meaningful suggestions while writing this, that I have been able to tackle one of the most challenging topics in Christian catechism. He is also credited for the opening photo. There is tremendous value in collaboration! “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” —Aristotle