The idea of atonement is not a distinctly Christian, or even Hebraic, concept. It also makes an appearance in ancient Greek thought (among other places). The Greek tradition is by no means monolithic, so it isn’t possible to speak of a “Greek” concept of atonement. But there are certain commonalities that show up in the Homeric tradition (as distinct from the Platonic/philosophical tradition) that are especially noteworthy.
In the Homeric tradition, the Olympian gods are not typically portrayed as the source of justice. Rather justice owes its existence to the more ancient and primordial “Fates”—the ancient powers that have ordained the destiny of both justice and the Olympians. As such, atonement, if it can be made at all, must be made to a power higher than the Olympian gods. This can be seen clearly in Aeschylus’ The Eumenides.
The back story for Eumenides is drawn from the two other plays in Aeschylus’ trilogy, Agamemnon and The Libation Bearers. Orestes’ father Agamemnon, the famous Greek war lord, has been murdered by Orestes’ adulterous mother. In response, Orestes is commanded by the god Apollo to murder his mother. This dreadful command places Orestes in a nearly impossible situation—to offend justice by leaving his father’s murder unavenged, or uphold justice by committing the awful deed of matricide. Orestes, out of love for his father and fear of Apollo, carries out the murder of his mother. But though the command came from a god, Orestes cannot escape the blood guilt associated with his act. As the play opens, Orestes has fled to the altar of Athena seeking refuge from the avenging “Furies.”
The Furies are the spirts who have been ordained by the Fates to pursue those with blood guilt. They have followed Orestes, like a “sniffing hound” all the way to Athena’s sanctuary. And just when they are about to lay hold of him, Apollo shows up and commands them to leave or suffer his wrath, “Out I tell you, out of these halls—fast—set the Prophet’s chamber free! Or take the flash and stab of this, this flying viper whipped from the golden cord that strings my bow!”
Notably, Apollos does not refute the Furies by reason, but rather by power. He appeals to Zeus and claims that the mightiest of the gods is on his side—and that the Furies had better relent lest they face the wrath of the gods. The Furies are undaunted. They consider it foul play that any of the gods, even Apollo or the great Zeus, would try to stand in the way of their sacred duty. Zeus may have the power to wrench Orestes loose from their grip, but he does not have the right. Their response is a rebuke toward Apollo, and the basis of their rebuke contains an appeal to a power deeper than the gods’.
This, this is our right,
Spun for us by the Fates,
The ones who bind the world,
And none can shake our hold.
Show us the mortals overcome,
Insane to murder kin—we track them down
Till they go beneath the earth,
And the dead find little freedom in the end (334-41).
Even at birth, I say, our rights were so ordained.
The deathless gods must keep their hands far off—
No god may share our cups, our solemn feasts.
We want no part of their pious white robes—
The Fates who gave us power made us free (348-52).
So now, striving to wrench our mandate from the gods,
We make ourselves exempt from their control,
We brook no trial—no god can be our judge (359-61).
The Furies have been given their assignment by a power more ancient than the gods. The Fates—to whom all must submit in the end, even the gods—have charged the Furies with this task. Far be it from the gods to stand between the Furies and their prey.
And here we see the difference between Greek and Christian notions of atonement. Apollo has no primordial right to deliver Orestes from the demands of justice (even if he has the power). The law of Fate stands above them all—Apollo, the Furies, Orestes, even Zeus. But the Christian God is not bound by a law higher than himself. He himself is the law. There are no Fates that exist prior to him, that charge him with the burden of dispensing justice. God is not the wielder of justice, as though he possessed a power or mandate given to him by another. He is the Lord of Justice.
Sometimes, though, I think this distinction gets lost in Christian atonement theology. We can slip too easily into a Homeric way of thinking about the relationship between God and justice. In subtle ways our atonement theology often contains a view of God that is a conflation of the Furies and the Olympians. Like the Olympians, God is powerful; and like the Furies, he is responsible to dispense justice. But we leave him under the higher hand of Fate, as though he too stands beneath a mandate ordained for him by a more ancient law. God wants to freely forgive, but he can’t. He wants to grant absolution without charge, but it is goes beyond his rights. He himself must “pay off” the higher power of Justice and satisfy the Fates.
The death of Christ does not pay off a higher power that stands above God, to whom God must give an account. God is the only one with whom God has to do. He is the first and the last, the beginning and the end. As the Psalmist says, “With you alone there is forgiveness; therefore you are to be feared.”
There’s quite a bit more to say here (a dissertation’s worth or more). Had one the time and space to say it, it would be fruitful to explore how Athanasius’ De Incarnatione Verbi offers us a surer bulwark against the Homeric orientation than does Anselm’s Cur Deus Homo. And it would be useful to explore the medieval distinction between the “two powers” of God—his absolute power, and his ordained power. And it would be helpful to contemplate Thomas’ question in Summa 46.2, “Was it necessary for Christ to die in order to satisfy divine justice?” (his answer is no).
But for now, I wish only to press the singular point that the Father of Jesus is the Father of the Fates, and the Lord (not servant) of justice. He is the first and great primordial power, and there is no force or power or concept or ideal that stands above him to which he must bow. He alone is free. However we construct our models of atonement, we must avoid the Homeric error and acknowledge this foundational truth.
Gerald Hiestand is the Senior Associate Pastor of Calvary Memorial Church, and the Director of the Center for Pastor Theologians. He blogs at www.pastortheologians.com.