Leon Morris is a brilliant biblical scholar an well worthy of attention. So, I was delighted to receive The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross as a generous gift. In reading this volume, there were times when I was annoyed at what I was reading, only to discover that Morris was doing his usual careful job of sifting through various positions before finalizing on the evidence he perceives as most cogent or probable. At times, I found myself in “violent agreement” with his arguments while, at others, I found myself scratching my head with regard to his inconsistency and what I perceived as an unexpected naivete regarding language and culture.
Perhaps, I shouldn’t refer to an unexpected naivete regarding language and culture as opposed to the willingness to engage in a polemical use of language and culture. No, Morris doesn’t throw epithets and defamatory phrases around, but he does seem willing to obfuscate the obvious to advance his point. Ironically, it is a point in which I have some sympathy. That point being that Jesus’ death was necessary to redeem us from the entropy of humankind’s weak, sinful state. But where some interpreters focus on words like wrath, depravity, and propitiation, I tend to focus on what Jesus’ death potentially (ie. It isn’t forced on humanity.) does for those who accept it as the liberating gift for which it was intended.
With that in mind, the initial chapter was excellent. “Redemption” focused on the Greek word as being inextricably tied to ransom, a buying back and, in a related word, a buying back from. To demonstrate this, Morris follows the word for “redemption” through ordinary Greek usage, the usage in the Septuagint translation (Greek) for various Hebrew words, and even how the rabbinic usage tied to those Hebrew words support that idea of “ransom.” Then, Morris advances from this to arguing the necessity of Jesus as a substitute for humanity.
My mind started to hit the brakes in the second chapter. At first, it looked like Morris was trying to get rid of the significance of the Hebrew phrase, “cutting a covenant.” He quickly performs a logical pirouette to apply that “cutting” to a substitutionary atonement, but suddenly pulls up short of recognizing the “sprinkling of blood” as necessary for that ritual (“…there appears no obvious reason for equating sprinkling of blood with the division of corpses.” p. 75), arguing on the basis of silence. It turns out that there is a reason for his reticence to see the blood as functional because Morris clearly delineates between one giving one’s life (through the blood) and one giving one’s life (in death), a distinction that bugs me.
Conveniently ignoring the idea of life in the blood found in Leviticus 17:11 and Genesis 9:4 (as well as parallel and primitive cultures), Morris performs a reductionist logic arguing that “blood” means death, but not life (p. 115). He even reduces the metaphor of the “blood of the life” to say it only means death and not life (p. 116). Why does he jump such a chasm? He does so because he (to me somewhat illogically) separates the idea of giving life and substituting for a death sentence.
The chapter on the “Lamb of God” makes a rather interesting introductory concession. Morris writes: “It is the habit of the Fourth Evangelist to use expressions which may be taken in more ways than one, evidently in a way to including all the possible meanings.” (p. 129) This seems incredibly remarkable when one notices his methodology which attempts to tie every usage into one primary possibility. It is interesting that Morris argues against seeing the “Lamb of God” as the Passover victim because the Passover sacrifice wasn’t always a lamb. So, Morris dismisses connections to the Passover victim and the “Lamb of God” as a “modern” notion which would not have been in the mind of the 1st century believers (p. 133). He rejects the idea of the “Lamb of God” as connected with the “lamb led to the slaughter” of Isaiah 53:7 because the “Lamb of God” does not appear to be a messianic term prior to the apocalyptic of Revelation (p. 139). In a similar fashion, Morris discounts the connection with the lamb as the lamb which Abraham promised Isaac that God would provide in the Akedah (Genesis 22—binding of Isaac) because the eventual provision was a ram (wouldn’t that have potentially been even more valuable than a “lamb?”) instead of a lamb (p. 141). These arguments seem rather restrictive compared to the manner in which Morris began the discussion.
But it was the two chapters on “Propitiation” which gave me the most pause. Morris states that the word traditionally translated “propitiation” (and having “expiation” as a substitute in many modern translations) comes from the root idea of “making joyous” and, hence, “appeasing” someone (p. 145). Morris wants to focus on “propitiation” as meaning the placating of the wrath of God rather than merely expunging the sin and its consequences (“expiation”). Although he does write that the wrath of God is not equivalent to the capricious, arbitrary, and passionate wrath of pagan gods (p. 148), as well as observing that this wrath is due to God being a moral being with wrath directed to any form of wrongdoing (p. 149), he quickly moves away from this targeting of sin to a targeting of the sinner (p. In so doing, he attempts to delineate God’s wrath as a “righteous anger” upon the sinners rather than upon the destructive consequences of sin (p. 152). And therein, is the problem for conveying Morris’ conception of “propitiation” to modern humanity.
No matter how many qualifiers Morris may adopt, his position still suggests personal enmity from God toward the sinner. My perception (though it may be unsophisticated) is that God’s punishment of the sinner is something like a hospital placing a quarantine upon a patient. It is not because the medical professionals are devaluing the worth of the patient. To the contrary, the medical professionals are trying to eliminate the contamination process and protect others while giving the patient every opportunity to heal. The extreme measures are directed at the bacteria and the patient is affected because of her/his contact with the bacteria or virus. In a similar fashion, I would see God’s wrath coming down on sin and causing, at times, the suffering of the sinner as a result of God’s desire to eliminate the contamination and protect others.
At one point, Morris almost acknowledges my position with a quotation from Ryder Smith within a footnote: “When a theist looks at the world, is he not bound to say: ‘God has made the world in such a way that if men and nations sin, misery befalls them’?...Where a modern theist says that God has so made the world that if men sin, they suffer, the Biblical writers speak of the ‘wrath of God’.” (p. 224) However problematic that may be from the standpoint of omnipotence, it seems to me less repugnant that the Jonathan Edwards-style assertion that “The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spier or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the fire.” Morris doesn’t quote Edwards, but that is where we end up.
The question is whether one wishes to sum up God’s dealing with humanity as focused on the condition as sinner or on the potential of individual persons given a God-initiated reconciliation. But even here in the idea of reconciliation, Morris cannot give up the emphasis on wrath. Indeed, after admitting that the thrust of Romans 5:10 builds on humanity’s hostility toward God, he insists one must not overlook God’s enmity toward humanity (pp. 226-227). As one reads further, one quickly discovers that Morris’ fear is that removing the idea of enmity and hostility will remove the God-initiated nature of reconciliation (pp. 230-232) and place it wholly within the action of humanity. But the wrath can be directed at the sin and consequences of sin without hostility toward the individual.
Apparently, Morris doesn’t agree with me (and his credentials are somewhat better than mine in terms of his academic and writing/researching career). His two chapters on “Justification” begin on a solid footing by comparing the Old Testament view of the law with making something right in a law court. But even after building this foundation, he jumps directly from judgment to “wrath.” “It was inevitable that the wrath of God should be the divine answer to all sin.” (p. 253) Yet, does a judge with integrity need to show “wrath” to produce justice?
I like the idea that justification is obtained through faithfulness, but I like the corrective that Morris offers: “But, for a Hebrew, faithfulness under difficult circumstances could arise only from reliance on Jehovah.” (p. 265) Indeed, perhaps the most significant part of his discussion of righteousness is the idea that “righteous” is a term for those accepted by God (p. 271) as opposed to those who thought it possible to lead a meritorious life by oneself. Then, citing a verse where “righteousness” is considered a “gift,” Morris goes on to conclude: “If righteousness is a gift, obviously it cannot be a quality of living.” (p. 281) Actually, the “gift” of righteousness CAN be a “quality of living;” it’s the idea of the “works” in the Epistle of James and “fruit of the Spirit” in the letters of Paul—a result of the gift and not the cause of the status.
When all is said (or written) and done, Morris underscores the necessity of a substitution—Christ who voluntarily allowed His life to become entangled with humanity, takes upon Himself the consequences of going against the legal rules God established to protect us from the death to which we would otherwise be driving ourselves (p. 303). And for all of my disagreements with regard to Morris’ understanding of God’s “wrath,” The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross provides a challenging reminder of the importance of what God did in Christ.