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The Crucifixion of the Warrior God: Volumes 1 & 2
Sixteen church historians here examine Martin Luther in an uncommon way -- not as Reformer or theologian but as pastor. Luther's work as parish pastor commanded much of his time and energy in Wittenberg.
After first introducing the pastoral Luther, including his theology of the cross, these chapters discuss Luther's preaching and use of language (including humor), investigate his teaching ministry in depth, especially in light of the catechism, and explore his views on such things as the role of women, the Virgin Mary, and music. The book finally probes Luther's sentiments on monasticism and secular authority.
1489 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 17, 2017
221 people are currently reading
760 people want to read
About the author
Gregory A. Boyd
94 books350 followersGregory A. Boyd is the founder and senior pastor of Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, Minn., and founder and president of ReKnew. He was a professor of theology at Bethel College (St. Paul, Minn.) for sixteen years where he continues to serve as an Adjunct Professor.
Greg is a graduate of the University of Minnesota (BA), Yale Divinity School (M.Div), and Princeton Theological Seminary (PhD). Greg is a national and international speaker at churches, colleges, conferences, and retreats, and has appeared on numerous radio and television shows. He has also authored and coauthored eighteen books prior to Present Perfect, including The Myth of a Christian Religion, The Myth of a Christian Nation, The Jesus Legend (with Paul Eddy), Seeing Is Believing, Repenting of Religion, and his international bestseller Letters from a Skeptic.
Greg is a graduate of the University of Minnesota (BA), Yale Divinity School (M.Div), and Princeton Theological Seminary (PhD). Greg is a national and international speaker at churches, colleges, conferences, and retreats, and has appeared on numerous radio and television shows. He has also authored and coauthored eighteen books prior to Present Perfect, including The Myth of a Christian Religion, The Myth of a Christian Nation, The Jesus Legend (with Paul Eddy), Seeing Is Believing, Repenting of Religion, and his international bestseller Letters from a Skeptic.
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May 4, 2017
Overlong and unnecessarily complicated, Greg Boyd presents a reading of the Old Testament through the lens of the crucified Christ resulting in claims that are times compelling and at other times perplexing. From a rhetorical-structural standpoint, the book could have easily been pared down from its too-massive 1500 pages to a more manageable 500 pages just by a few simple rewrites and removing the majority of the first six chapters.
Boyd's proposal, called the Cruciform Hermeneutic, is an intriguing idea: what if we re-read the OT using the epistemology of the Cross as our grounds? It's not necessarily a new ideas - as Boyd points out, Origen attempted something similar; more interestingly, so did Geerhardus Vos - but Boyd provides it with methodological succor that gives the reader hopes on its ability to deliver.
Unfortunately, Boyd's precommitments to his more radical theological beliefs (namely, open theism and his unique version of Christus Victor atonement) often shine through more clearly than his interesting hermeneutical strategy, resulting in re-readings of the OT that are more suspicious than they are sound. In particular, his Principle of Divine Withdrawal fits all-too-nicely in a system of thought that would benefit from its claims.
His claims regarding spiritual warfare and the kingdom of the devil are the most interesting, in my opinion, and I do think that, from time to time, he opens up an interesting new reading for certain disregarded passages of the OT. But his refusal to allow Yahweh any action he determines is "violent" (a term that Boyd never defines for us) results in a perspective on the Torah that demands much more convolution than exegesis in order to make sense of what is happening.
Altogether, the work hovers between the realms of "ooh, that's interesting" and "why are we talking about this?," giving the feel of an incomplete doctoral dissertation rather than a masterwork of ten years' scholarship. There are questions that are begging to be asked and discussed that are ignored or pushed away, while Boyd spends inordinate amounts of time on questions that, honestly, are insignificant for his thesis.
The book was largely a disappointment, but, fortunately, I still think that the Cruciform Hermeneutic has value, if it could be harnessed in a way that doesn't require it to submit to the user's presupposed definitions on ideas like "Love," "Violence," and "War."
I have also written a formal review of the book, available on Theologian's Library.
Boyd's proposal, called the Cruciform Hermeneutic, is an intriguing idea: what if we re-read the OT using the epistemology of the Cross as our grounds? It's not necessarily a new ideas - as Boyd points out, Origen attempted something similar; more interestingly, so did Geerhardus Vos - but Boyd provides it with methodological succor that gives the reader hopes on its ability to deliver.
Unfortunately, Boyd's precommitments to his more radical theological beliefs (namely, open theism and his unique version of Christus Victor atonement) often shine through more clearly than his interesting hermeneutical strategy, resulting in re-readings of the OT that are more suspicious than they are sound. In particular, his Principle of Divine Withdrawal fits all-too-nicely in a system of thought that would benefit from its claims.
His claims regarding spiritual warfare and the kingdom of the devil are the most interesting, in my opinion, and I do think that, from time to time, he opens up an interesting new reading for certain disregarded passages of the OT. But his refusal to allow Yahweh any action he determines is "violent" (a term that Boyd never defines for us) results in a perspective on the Torah that demands much more convolution than exegesis in order to make sense of what is happening.
Altogether, the work hovers between the realms of "ooh, that's interesting" and "why are we talking about this?," giving the feel of an incomplete doctoral dissertation rather than a masterwork of ten years' scholarship. There are questions that are begging to be asked and discussed that are ignored or pushed away, while Boyd spends inordinate amounts of time on questions that, honestly, are insignificant for his thesis.
The book was largely a disappointment, but, fortunately, I still think that the Cruciform Hermeneutic has value, if it could be harnessed in a way that doesn't require it to submit to the user's presupposed definitions on ideas like "Love," "Violence," and "War."
I have also written a formal review of the book, available on Theologian's Library.
July 13, 2017
Greg Boyd’s two-volume study on the problem of violence attributed to God vis à vis the pacifist teachings of Jesus is most likely the most ambitious available. (At least I hope so!) For many readers, the study will be too long and too detailed. I found it so many times, but that is mostly because he covered ground I was familiar with. Other readers would have needed to see that ground covered.
Boyd seeks to argue for a strictly consistent cruciform hermeneutic. St. Augustine and Martin Luther (among many others) argued that the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ was the touchstone for interpreting all of scripture, but they still ended up accepting the violence attributed to God in the Old Testament while earlier Patristic writers posited alternate interpretations to avoid such attributions. Boyd points out a correlation between the Constantinian Revolution in the Church and the tendency of theologians to accept violent portrayals of God. After all, politics is politics.
The early Patristic way of absolving God of violence was to argue that Old Testament texts that seemed to ascribe violence to God really meant something else. The usual method of the time was to interpret such passages symbolically. Boyd discusses Origen at great length as the most prominent and formative of scripture interpreters in the Christian centuries. The basic argument was that anything inconsistent with Jesus’ absorbing violence on the cross rather than committing it had to have a meaning under the surface consistent with the Cross. For example, exterminating the Canaanites is symbolic of the need to exterminate the sinful impulses within each one of us. Boyd affirms the basic principle of seeking a cruciform hermeneutic but he suggests that this symbolic approach is not persuasive in our time. The rest of the first volume is devoted to evaluating various attempts to deal with the violence in Old Testament texts and showing where he finds them wanting. All of this is important and valuable, but for the purpose of this review, I will focus on the new approach to a cruciform hermeneutic that Boyd offers under four categories.
1) Cruciform Accommodation. Boyd suggests that in cultivating the chosen people, the Jews, God had to act like a missionary, tolerating many evils in the culture because the people are simply not able to learn the whole truth at once. Boyd uses the image of “masks” where God “pretends” to be violent when God is really non-violent because violence is the only thing the people understand. This category suggests God purposely disguising Godself, but occasionally Boyd lets on that there is a problem of hearing God rightly. That is, people “hear” God commanding violence when God is commanding something else. For example, God really told the people to occupy Canaan, not exterminate everybody. This category works reasonably well in the second sense, but not the first sense.
2) The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal. This is the main lynchpin of Boyd’s cruciform hermeneutic. When people disobey God and act violently, God allows people to suffer the consequences of their own violence. That is, God protected the Jews from the Assyrians for many years, but once the social injustice reached an intolerable level, God stopped protecting Israel from Assyrian and Assyria destroyed the northern kingdom. Same thing with Babylon and Jerusalem later on. There is a huge amount of support for this notion throughout scripture for this and it is an important principle. The weakness I see in Boyd’s presentation is that it implies that people who are overrun by violent countries like Assyria deserved it because of their sins. For that matter, Assyria and then Babylon suffered the same fates they imposed on Israel and Judah and many other kingdoms. But not always. In Judges 18, the Danites search for a new territory. Their “valiant” scouts come to Laish The five men went on, and when they came to Laish where “ they observed the people who were there living securely, after the manner of the Sidonians, quiet and unsuspecting, lacking nothing on earth, and possessing wealth.” (Judg. 18: 7) God withdrew protection from Laish and the Danites destroyed them, although the narrative gives us any reason to believe they deserved it. In Psalm 44, the worshipers complain: All this has come upon us, yet we have not forgotten you, or been false to your covenant. Our heart has not turned back, nor have our steps departed from your way, yet you have broken us in the haunt of jackals, and covered us with deep darkness.” (Ps. 44: 17-19) The people may have been wrong but should be credited with having really tried to figure out what they had done wrong to deserve their fate and couldn’t do it. This second category is important and explains much, but not enough.
3) The Principle of Cosmic Conflict. This can be a problem for many readers as Boyd argues that the supernatural powers are real and that they inflict havoc on humans. Girard’s analysis of human violence through mimetic desire goes a long way in accounting for the sense of eviol’s transcendence without need actual demons, but I’m not interested in trying to refute Boyd’s understanding here. If supernatural powers are real, they only extend the same field of mimetic conflict analyzed by Girard. That is, Satan engages in mimetic rivalry with God and tries to draw humanity into the same conflict. It is fundamentally the same story as humans rebelling against God and trying to draw other humans into that same rebellion. More to the point: Boyd argues that God protects humans from cosmic forces until their violence becomes so inveterate that God withdraws protection from these forces. Which leaves us with the same pluses and minuses of principle 3.
4) The Principle of Semi-autonomous Power. This idea seems at first the most bizarre, based on a magical view of reality from times of early humanity. This includes the power imbued by God into Moses’ staff and the ark of the covenant. Once the power is there, it can be used rightly and wrongly and God “can” no longer stop that power. Hence the damage of the plagues of Egypt, for example. If we translate this principle to the powers that human have to do good and to inflict horror, this principle becomes the most important. Humans have the power to organize in armies and invade other countries as the Assyrians do. And they do it. As is well-known, we have the power to inflict apocalyptic violence with our weapons.
These principles lead to where I personally see a cruciform hermeneutic based firmly on the Cross. Boyd writes about Jesus’ Heavenly Father withdrawing protection so that Jesus is arrested and crucified. It is important, though, that Jesus willing accepted this burden at Gethsemane. More important yet, Jesus was entering space of the people of Laish, of Achan who was stoned in Joshua, of the couple murdered by Phinehus when he “stood up and intervened” and killed one multi-racial couple. That is, Jesus entered the place of all who have suffered the effects of human violence from social injustice to military violence. Here is where I think we arrive at a deeper cruciform hermeneutic than we get from the redemptive withdrawal of God.
Boyd seeks to argue for a strictly consistent cruciform hermeneutic. St. Augustine and Martin Luther (among many others) argued that the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ was the touchstone for interpreting all of scripture, but they still ended up accepting the violence attributed to God in the Old Testament while earlier Patristic writers posited alternate interpretations to avoid such attributions. Boyd points out a correlation between the Constantinian Revolution in the Church and the tendency of theologians to accept violent portrayals of God. After all, politics is politics.
The early Patristic way of absolving God of violence was to argue that Old Testament texts that seemed to ascribe violence to God really meant something else. The usual method of the time was to interpret such passages symbolically. Boyd discusses Origen at great length as the most prominent and formative of scripture interpreters in the Christian centuries. The basic argument was that anything inconsistent with Jesus’ absorbing violence on the cross rather than committing it had to have a meaning under the surface consistent with the Cross. For example, exterminating the Canaanites is symbolic of the need to exterminate the sinful impulses within each one of us. Boyd affirms the basic principle of seeking a cruciform hermeneutic but he suggests that this symbolic approach is not persuasive in our time. The rest of the first volume is devoted to evaluating various attempts to deal with the violence in Old Testament texts and showing where he finds them wanting. All of this is important and valuable, but for the purpose of this review, I will focus on the new approach to a cruciform hermeneutic that Boyd offers under four categories.
1) Cruciform Accommodation. Boyd suggests that in cultivating the chosen people, the Jews, God had to act like a missionary, tolerating many evils in the culture because the people are simply not able to learn the whole truth at once. Boyd uses the image of “masks” where God “pretends” to be violent when God is really non-violent because violence is the only thing the people understand. This category suggests God purposely disguising Godself, but occasionally Boyd lets on that there is a problem of hearing God rightly. That is, people “hear” God commanding violence when God is commanding something else. For example, God really told the people to occupy Canaan, not exterminate everybody. This category works reasonably well in the second sense, but not the first sense.
2) The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal. This is the main lynchpin of Boyd’s cruciform hermeneutic. When people disobey God and act violently, God allows people to suffer the consequences of their own violence. That is, God protected the Jews from the Assyrians for many years, but once the social injustice reached an intolerable level, God stopped protecting Israel from Assyrian and Assyria destroyed the northern kingdom. Same thing with Babylon and Jerusalem later on. There is a huge amount of support for this notion throughout scripture for this and it is an important principle. The weakness I see in Boyd’s presentation is that it implies that people who are overrun by violent countries like Assyria deserved it because of their sins. For that matter, Assyria and then Babylon suffered the same fates they imposed on Israel and Judah and many other kingdoms. But not always. In Judges 18, the Danites search for a new territory. Their “valiant” scouts come to Laish The five men went on, and when they came to Laish where “ they observed the people who were there living securely, after the manner of the Sidonians, quiet and unsuspecting, lacking nothing on earth, and possessing wealth.” (Judg. 18: 7) God withdrew protection from Laish and the Danites destroyed them, although the narrative gives us any reason to believe they deserved it. In Psalm 44, the worshipers complain: All this has come upon us, yet we have not forgotten you, or been false to your covenant. Our heart has not turned back, nor have our steps departed from your way, yet you have broken us in the haunt of jackals, and covered us with deep darkness.” (Ps. 44: 17-19) The people may have been wrong but should be credited with having really tried to figure out what they had done wrong to deserve their fate and couldn’t do it. This second category is important and explains much, but not enough.
3) The Principle of Cosmic Conflict. This can be a problem for many readers as Boyd argues that the supernatural powers are real and that they inflict havoc on humans. Girard’s analysis of human violence through mimetic desire goes a long way in accounting for the sense of eviol’s transcendence without need actual demons, but I’m not interested in trying to refute Boyd’s understanding here. If supernatural powers are real, they only extend the same field of mimetic conflict analyzed by Girard. That is, Satan engages in mimetic rivalry with God and tries to draw humanity into the same conflict. It is fundamentally the same story as humans rebelling against God and trying to draw other humans into that same rebellion. More to the point: Boyd argues that God protects humans from cosmic forces until their violence becomes so inveterate that God withdraws protection from these forces. Which leaves us with the same pluses and minuses of principle 3.
4) The Principle of Semi-autonomous Power. This idea seems at first the most bizarre, based on a magical view of reality from times of early humanity. This includes the power imbued by God into Moses’ staff and the ark of the covenant. Once the power is there, it can be used rightly and wrongly and God “can” no longer stop that power. Hence the damage of the plagues of Egypt, for example. If we translate this principle to the powers that human have to do good and to inflict horror, this principle becomes the most important. Humans have the power to organize in armies and invade other countries as the Assyrians do. And they do it. As is well-known, we have the power to inflict apocalyptic violence with our weapons.
These principles lead to where I personally see a cruciform hermeneutic based firmly on the Cross. Boyd writes about Jesus’ Heavenly Father withdrawing protection so that Jesus is arrested and crucified. It is important, though, that Jesus willing accepted this burden at Gethsemane. More important yet, Jesus was entering space of the people of Laish, of Achan who was stoned in Joshua, of the couple murdered by Phinehus when he “stood up and intervened” and killed one multi-racial couple. That is, Jesus entered the place of all who have suffered the effects of human violence from social injustice to military violence. Here is where I think we arrive at a deeper cruciform hermeneutic than we get from the redemptive withdrawal of God.
June 21, 2017
ESSENTIAL THEOLOGICAL READING.
As someone who has followed Boyd for years, I think he has outdone himself with this last outing. Yes, it is extremely long, owing in part to the comprehensive nature of the case Boyd is making, along with his inclusion of pre-emptive responses to possible critiques. But considering the length and the academic nature of the writing, I found it much easier to read than many other works of this scope. Boyd's pastoral heart pulses through every page, and insofar as he dearly wants people to grasp what he is doing, he was able to make this relatively accessible piece of serious theological reflection.
This all being said, the reader should know that this is both serious theology and philosophy. Boyd is conversant with the various strands of philosophical thought that bear on his perspective, and his overall argument is that much stronger for it. The work is also extensively footnoted and researched, which I appreciate, but could prove to make it more difficult for some readers.
As to the persuasiveness of Boyd's argument, time will tell how much this impacts the work of the church. But regardless of precisely how many people are convinced, the scope and coherence of his argument, as well as the humble-but-confident tone of his writing, should demand serious response from the evangelical-theological community. Personally, I find much of it compelling - the principles that form the bedrock of his hermenuetic (Divine Accommodation, Redemptive Withdrawal, Cosmic Conflict, Semi-Autonomous Power) are careful, nuanced, and deeply respectful of scripture. One certainly doesn't need to agree with everything in this pages to appreciate the profundity of his argument, but anyone wishing to be "in the loop" with what is happening in evangelical theology today absolutely owes it to themselves to engage with Boyd's work.
As someone who has followed Boyd for years, I think he has outdone himself with this last outing. Yes, it is extremely long, owing in part to the comprehensive nature of the case Boyd is making, along with his inclusion of pre-emptive responses to possible critiques. But considering the length and the academic nature of the writing, I found it much easier to read than many other works of this scope. Boyd's pastoral heart pulses through every page, and insofar as he dearly wants people to grasp what he is doing, he was able to make this relatively accessible piece of serious theological reflection.
This all being said, the reader should know that this is both serious theology and philosophy. Boyd is conversant with the various strands of philosophical thought that bear on his perspective, and his overall argument is that much stronger for it. The work is also extensively footnoted and researched, which I appreciate, but could prove to make it more difficult for some readers.
As to the persuasiveness of Boyd's argument, time will tell how much this impacts the work of the church. But regardless of precisely how many people are convinced, the scope and coherence of his argument, as well as the humble-but-confident tone of his writing, should demand serious response from the evangelical-theological community. Personally, I find much of it compelling - the principles that form the bedrock of his hermenuetic (Divine Accommodation, Redemptive Withdrawal, Cosmic Conflict, Semi-Autonomous Power) are careful, nuanced, and deeply respectful of scripture. One certainly doesn't need to agree with everything in this pages to appreciate the profundity of his argument, but anyone wishing to be "in the loop" with what is happening in evangelical theology today absolutely owes it to themselves to engage with Boyd's work.
July 2, 2017
This is an important book to engage with, but it’s not for the faint of heart or for children in their faith. It’s overwhelmingly anachronistic in its views about "violence" and "evil." Apparently Boyd welcomes (indeed, invites!) Christians to think of sin, evil, hatred, and violence from a blend of 21st century ideologies.
Boyd puts on a lengthy display of the Bible's "horrendous violence" coupled with his commitment to view the Bible as "inspired" and "infallible,” although he’s pretty slippery about what that means. He is clear about what that does not mean, but not so clear about how his notions tie into orthodox commitments decided long ago by the Church. I suspect that this book will receive much praise over time. I certainly will not be one of them, mainly because his argument comes down to this: God sovereignly allowed and inspired people throughout the Old Testament to portray Himself as he is NOT—that is to say, to portray Himself falsely—so that Jesus could show up and prove how unconditionally loving and non-violent God truly was all along.
I think that's nonsense, primarily because the New Testament portrays Jesus and His Apostles as conditionally loving, but also because IF Boyd's methodology is appropriate, then there is no reason why people can't make similar, but inverse commitments to the "violent" character of God revealed throughout the Old Testament. That is to say, in principle, Boyd offers no satisfactory rationale for accepting the "inspired" and "infallible" portrayals of this New Testament "God" he imagines to be "unconditionally loving". People (especially Jesus-hating theologians) could easily adopt Boyd's hermeneutics and claim that the gospels and epistles depict God falsely, and the violent God of the old covenant is the true God.
Adding to all this, Boyd spends most of the first volume connecting his own hermeneutics with a wide swath of biblical scholars over the centuries, and especially the church fathers. He fails to offer any consistency between them though. Upon a closer look, his selection of quotations in defense of his hermeneutical approach is decidedly artificial—it does not match with the wide variety of conflicting quotations I have gathered in my own research about Preterism, which clearly illustrate their widespread belief in the conditional love of God and the perfectly holy, just, and wrathful character of God. Boyd also teaches that the impassibility of God is not true, thereby confusing christian dogmas about God's essence. God, according to Boyd, is portrayed as being primarily human, which is the inverse of traditional Christian (and Biblical) stating points about Him.
Volume one was too pseudo-Marcion for my tastes as well. I think Boyd could learn a lot by actually studying biblical law outside of the conventional teachings of evangelicalism and rabbinic Judaism. I also think it's a shame that Boyd shows himself to be clearly aware of the destruction of Jerusalem alluded to throughout the gospels, while simultaneously failing to apply that to Jesus' statements about non-violence and persecution. For Boyd, every appearance of negativity and conditional love in the New Testament amounts to a faulty human portrayal of God as he truly is not. He is highly selective. Quoting numerous contemporary scholars in favor of his idealized portrayal doesn't help either. It only muddies the water.
On a positive note though, I was glad to see Boyd interpret the New Testament message as being opposed to wicked Jewish authorities in the first century and not promoting anti-semitism in those passages. I also was happy to see him interpret the winepress imagery of Rev 14 as the martyrdom of the Christian saints. That comports with my own view, but also with scholars such as Caird and Leithart.
This book would be given five stars by me if I wasn't aware of the Church's teachings about such issues, which are--as a matter of fact--a testimony of how novel and deconstructive Boyd's overall portrayal of God actually is. In line with his characterization, the fear of God turns out to not be the beginning of wisdom or knowledge. His own rhetorical spin about a "cross-centered hermeneutic" is allegedly the starting point for that. How unfortunate that Boyd has deflected our attention away from historic Christian tradition and it's cross-centered hermeneutic that begins with the fear of the Lord.
Boyd puts on a lengthy display of the Bible's "horrendous violence" coupled with his commitment to view the Bible as "inspired" and "infallible,” although he’s pretty slippery about what that means. He is clear about what that does not mean, but not so clear about how his notions tie into orthodox commitments decided long ago by the Church. I suspect that this book will receive much praise over time. I certainly will not be one of them, mainly because his argument comes down to this: God sovereignly allowed and inspired people throughout the Old Testament to portray Himself as he is NOT—that is to say, to portray Himself falsely—so that Jesus could show up and prove how unconditionally loving and non-violent God truly was all along.
I think that's nonsense, primarily because the New Testament portrays Jesus and His Apostles as conditionally loving, but also because IF Boyd's methodology is appropriate, then there is no reason why people can't make similar, but inverse commitments to the "violent" character of God revealed throughout the Old Testament. That is to say, in principle, Boyd offers no satisfactory rationale for accepting the "inspired" and "infallible" portrayals of this New Testament "God" he imagines to be "unconditionally loving". People (especially Jesus-hating theologians) could easily adopt Boyd's hermeneutics and claim that the gospels and epistles depict God falsely, and the violent God of the old covenant is the true God.
Adding to all this, Boyd spends most of the first volume connecting his own hermeneutics with a wide swath of biblical scholars over the centuries, and especially the church fathers. He fails to offer any consistency between them though. Upon a closer look, his selection of quotations in defense of his hermeneutical approach is decidedly artificial—it does not match with the wide variety of conflicting quotations I have gathered in my own research about Preterism, which clearly illustrate their widespread belief in the conditional love of God and the perfectly holy, just, and wrathful character of God. Boyd also teaches that the impassibility of God is not true, thereby confusing christian dogmas about God's essence. God, according to Boyd, is portrayed as being primarily human, which is the inverse of traditional Christian (and Biblical) stating points about Him.
Volume one was too pseudo-Marcion for my tastes as well. I think Boyd could learn a lot by actually studying biblical law outside of the conventional teachings of evangelicalism and rabbinic Judaism. I also think it's a shame that Boyd shows himself to be clearly aware of the destruction of Jerusalem alluded to throughout the gospels, while simultaneously failing to apply that to Jesus' statements about non-violence and persecution. For Boyd, every appearance of negativity and conditional love in the New Testament amounts to a faulty human portrayal of God as he truly is not. He is highly selective. Quoting numerous contemporary scholars in favor of his idealized portrayal doesn't help either. It only muddies the water.
On a positive note though, I was glad to see Boyd interpret the New Testament message as being opposed to wicked Jewish authorities in the first century and not promoting anti-semitism in those passages. I also was happy to see him interpret the winepress imagery of Rev 14 as the martyrdom of the Christian saints. That comports with my own view, but also with scholars such as Caird and Leithart.
This book would be given five stars by me if I wasn't aware of the Church's teachings about such issues, which are--as a matter of fact--a testimony of how novel and deconstructive Boyd's overall portrayal of God actually is. In line with his characterization, the fear of God turns out to not be the beginning of wisdom or knowledge. His own rhetorical spin about a "cross-centered hermeneutic" is allegedly the starting point for that. How unfortunate that Boyd has deflected our attention away from historic Christian tradition and it's cross-centered hermeneutic that begins with the fear of the Lord.
June 22, 2018
Recently a few people in the United States government said that the Bible teaches you should obey the laws of the land. It is not uncommon for Christians, and others, to point to a Bible verse here or there to justify some act. The problem is, the Bible says a whole lot of things. As Philip Jenkins showed in his book Laying Down the Sword, Christians have used violent texts in the Bible to justify violence. It is a simple part of American history that Christian pastors used the Bible to argue for the continuation of slavery (See Mark Noll, The Civil War as a Theological Crisis).
The question at the root of any of these debates - immigration, violence - is how do we interpret the Bible?
Greg Boyd's book, which we should call his magnum opus, is one long argument to interpret the entire Bible through the lens of Jesus. At first, this does not seem too controversial. When it comes to more spiritual questions, Christians agree that Jesus is the final word. The Old Testament may speak of animal sacrifice or the necessity of circumcision or dietary laws, but we essentially discount that and look to faith alone in Jesus. Jesus, in terms of salvation, is the final and clearest revelation of God. Where Boyd goes with this is perhaps what is controversial, as he argues this ought to be our principle for interpreting all of scripture.
Growing up, as I think back on it, I learned that Jesus was the final word on salvation. But it seems, once you are saved, Jesus is sort of reduced. In terms of Christian living in a secular world, Jesus offers teaching on that but his teaching is right alongside of other texts. So should Christians use violence to defend themselves or their country? How should we treat immigrants? Well, let's see what God said in Leviticus or Psalms...
The problem, Boyd argues, is that this makes Jesus just one of many pictures of God. If we are going to be Trinitarian though, and even if we are going to follow what the Bible itself teaches about Jesus, we must recognize that Jesus is the clearest picture of God. Jesus is our image of God against which we compare every other picture of God.
Boyd brilliantly applies this principle to the violence in the Old Testament. Often when Christian apologists discuss these violent acts, they basically explain it away. One example of this is Paul Copan in his book, Is God a Moral Monster. Books like that one basically say that while God is violent in the Old Testament, the other gods in that culture were worse. God used violence, but not as much. Boyd shows the absurdity of this. Is killing children every right? I found Boyd's argument freeing because rather than having to uncomfortably say "yes, if God says so," Boyd shows how you can say "no, and God never commanded it." Besides, if you say "yes" then, conceivably, in certain situations, you could assume killing in God's name is legitimate.
Boyd argues that we compare the Old Testament to Jesus we see that what is actually happening is that God is allowing people to harm him by saying God does things that are awful. If God allowed humans to literally kill him when he became human in Jesus, then why would it be unheard of for God to allow humans to think wrong things about him? But in Jesus, we see who God truly is - God goes to the fullest extent, allowing humans to harm him in myriad ways, to be in relationship with us.
Boyd adds to this a number of arguments. God's judgment is not active judgment but simply withdrawing protection and allowing evil to rebound on itself. God allows free will, even to spiritual creatures, and sometimes this free will is used violently. So whether it is ancient Babylon or the sea, these forces are held back by God until God stops holding them back and allowing them to destroy, as they want to.
Of course, Boyd is open to the question of whether God allowing something is much better than just doing it. He addresses this, and basically argues for free will. The other option is that God determines everything which, if you are a Calvinist, I suppose makes sense. Really, either side has problems. Either God determines it all, thus God puts the idea in the emperor's head to destroy his enemies or sends the flood to drown people. Or, God who could stop it, allows it to happen. I would, and I suppose Boyd would agree, appeal to some degree of mystery here. We can never know precisely how God works. Honestly, I wish Boyd had emphasized this point a bit more. But I'd rather go with God allowing and not being sure why, then with the ultimate power in the universe destroying people. Plus, if we truly see God most clearly in Jesus, then God, in sorrow, allowing people to destroy and harm makes sense.
If you are familiar with Boyd, a lot of his big ideas make it in here. Some, such as Christus Victor theory of atonement and emphasis on spiritual powers of angels and demons, are helpful. The angels and demons stuff was especially challenging to my own modern worldview. His critique of Aquinas and push for Open Theism seemed ill thought out and poorly argued. This is where I wish he had emphasized mystery some more. I don't think you need reject Classical Theism in total to buy into the rest of Boyd's thesis.
Overall, this is a brilliant book. It is not hard to read, despite its length. It certainly has contributed to my own thinking. As someone who has long leaned towards nonviolence anyway, but was never entirely sure what to do with the Old Testament, I am more comfortable with putting it up against Jesus. The challenge here is how to explain this to people. A student of mine said his question, and even the question his atheist friends would ask, is that this sounds like you are "discounting the Bible" or you "don't really believe the Bible." I'd say that illustrates how deep the flat reading of the Bible, with Jesus as just essentially a prophet, has filtered into our culture. At the same time, I think this method of interpretation is already where most Christians are with many things (again, we don't sacrifice animals) and, if we truly reckon with Jesus as God in flesh (Trinity) then we rest on our final authority as God and not the Bible. The Bible is not the word of God primarily, instead it points away from itself to Jesus.
In other words, when I hear people worry about being Biblical, I am now prone to quip: "May we be Christlike, not Biblical."
The question at the root of any of these debates - immigration, violence - is how do we interpret the Bible?
Greg Boyd's book, which we should call his magnum opus, is one long argument to interpret the entire Bible through the lens of Jesus. At first, this does not seem too controversial. When it comes to more spiritual questions, Christians agree that Jesus is the final word. The Old Testament may speak of animal sacrifice or the necessity of circumcision or dietary laws, but we essentially discount that and look to faith alone in Jesus. Jesus, in terms of salvation, is the final and clearest revelation of God. Where Boyd goes with this is perhaps what is controversial, as he argues this ought to be our principle for interpreting all of scripture.
Growing up, as I think back on it, I learned that Jesus was the final word on salvation. But it seems, once you are saved, Jesus is sort of reduced. In terms of Christian living in a secular world, Jesus offers teaching on that but his teaching is right alongside of other texts. So should Christians use violence to defend themselves or their country? How should we treat immigrants? Well, let's see what God said in Leviticus or Psalms...
The problem, Boyd argues, is that this makes Jesus just one of many pictures of God. If we are going to be Trinitarian though, and even if we are going to follow what the Bible itself teaches about Jesus, we must recognize that Jesus is the clearest picture of God. Jesus is our image of God against which we compare every other picture of God.
Boyd brilliantly applies this principle to the violence in the Old Testament. Often when Christian apologists discuss these violent acts, they basically explain it away. One example of this is Paul Copan in his book, Is God a Moral Monster. Books like that one basically say that while God is violent in the Old Testament, the other gods in that culture were worse. God used violence, but not as much. Boyd shows the absurdity of this. Is killing children every right? I found Boyd's argument freeing because rather than having to uncomfortably say "yes, if God says so," Boyd shows how you can say "no, and God never commanded it." Besides, if you say "yes" then, conceivably, in certain situations, you could assume killing in God's name is legitimate.
Boyd argues that we compare the Old Testament to Jesus we see that what is actually happening is that God is allowing people to harm him by saying God does things that are awful. If God allowed humans to literally kill him when he became human in Jesus, then why would it be unheard of for God to allow humans to think wrong things about him? But in Jesus, we see who God truly is - God goes to the fullest extent, allowing humans to harm him in myriad ways, to be in relationship with us.
Boyd adds to this a number of arguments. God's judgment is not active judgment but simply withdrawing protection and allowing evil to rebound on itself. God allows free will, even to spiritual creatures, and sometimes this free will is used violently. So whether it is ancient Babylon or the sea, these forces are held back by God until God stops holding them back and allowing them to destroy, as they want to.
Of course, Boyd is open to the question of whether God allowing something is much better than just doing it. He addresses this, and basically argues for free will. The other option is that God determines everything which, if you are a Calvinist, I suppose makes sense. Really, either side has problems. Either God determines it all, thus God puts the idea in the emperor's head to destroy his enemies or sends the flood to drown people. Or, God who could stop it, allows it to happen. I would, and I suppose Boyd would agree, appeal to some degree of mystery here. We can never know precisely how God works. Honestly, I wish Boyd had emphasized this point a bit more. But I'd rather go with God allowing and not being sure why, then with the ultimate power in the universe destroying people. Plus, if we truly see God most clearly in Jesus, then God, in sorrow, allowing people to destroy and harm makes sense.
If you are familiar with Boyd, a lot of his big ideas make it in here. Some, such as Christus Victor theory of atonement and emphasis on spiritual powers of angels and demons, are helpful. The angels and demons stuff was especially challenging to my own modern worldview. His critique of Aquinas and push for Open Theism seemed ill thought out and poorly argued. This is where I wish he had emphasized mystery some more. I don't think you need reject Classical Theism in total to buy into the rest of Boyd's thesis.
Overall, this is a brilliant book. It is not hard to read, despite its length. It certainly has contributed to my own thinking. As someone who has long leaned towards nonviolence anyway, but was never entirely sure what to do with the Old Testament, I am more comfortable with putting it up against Jesus. The challenge here is how to explain this to people. A student of mine said his question, and even the question his atheist friends would ask, is that this sounds like you are "discounting the Bible" or you "don't really believe the Bible." I'd say that illustrates how deep the flat reading of the Bible, with Jesus as just essentially a prophet, has filtered into our culture. At the same time, I think this method of interpretation is already where most Christians are with many things (again, we don't sacrifice animals) and, if we truly reckon with Jesus as God in flesh (Trinity) then we rest on our final authority as God and not the Bible. The Bible is not the word of God primarily, instead it points away from itself to Jesus.
In other words, when I hear people worry about being Biblical, I am now prone to quip: "May we be Christlike, not Biblical."
October 6, 2018
I don't think I've ever spent more than a year reading a book before this one. Now technically it is two books (Goodreads where's the love on my Reading Challenge?) but regardless, it is a project to complete.
But a worthwhile project nonetheless.
For those more familiar with Boyd's mass market books, you will find this one nearly impossibly dense and full of jargon that will be unfamiliar. This is Boyd's self-ascribed magnum opus, the pinnacle, in his mind, of his academic and heremeneutical work. It is unabashedly academic in style, referencing centuries of Western Christian thought and hundreds of sources. The footnotes, which are voluminous, represent almost a 1/3 of the book, with a wealth of knowledge in them as well.
Beyond the structure of the book, the content is critical: Greg provides a historically grounded, theologically defensible view of (1) why and how the cross is the ultimate revelation of the character of God and anywhere God appears (even in Scripture) that doesn't conform to the non-violent suffering servant view of God is a cultural accommodation and (2) how to apply this view to some of the most violent and morally reprehensible passages and themes of the Old Testament.
The importance of this work for the future of theology is no small thing. There are many places where I felt Greg's need to confirm to the clunky language of his theses and to tie himself to hermanuetical styles which are not required made the reading unnecessarily hard. But academic writing is, by definition, defensive work, so much of the material written is to preempt his likely critics.
In the end, the book functions probably better as a reference work than anything. (I will definitely be going back to it again and again.) But it was valuable to read it in its entirety to let the full voice of this brilliant man's lifetime of work speak for itself.
But a worthwhile project nonetheless.
For those more familiar with Boyd's mass market books, you will find this one nearly impossibly dense and full of jargon that will be unfamiliar. This is Boyd's self-ascribed magnum opus, the pinnacle, in his mind, of his academic and heremeneutical work. It is unabashedly academic in style, referencing centuries of Western Christian thought and hundreds of sources. The footnotes, which are voluminous, represent almost a 1/3 of the book, with a wealth of knowledge in them as well.
Beyond the structure of the book, the content is critical: Greg provides a historically grounded, theologically defensible view of (1) why and how the cross is the ultimate revelation of the character of God and anywhere God appears (even in Scripture) that doesn't conform to the non-violent suffering servant view of God is a cultural accommodation and (2) how to apply this view to some of the most violent and morally reprehensible passages and themes of the Old Testament.
The importance of this work for the future of theology is no small thing. There are many places where I felt Greg's need to confirm to the clunky language of his theses and to tie himself to hermanuetical styles which are not required made the reading unnecessarily hard. But academic writing is, by definition, defensive work, so much of the material written is to preempt his likely critics.
In the end, the book functions probably better as a reference work than anything. (I will definitely be going back to it again and again.) But it was valuable to read it in its entirety to let the full voice of this brilliant man's lifetime of work speak for itself.
July 3, 2021
I just finished "Crucifixion of the Warrior God," Vol 1, by Gregory A. Boyd.
It was very insightful and I am glad to be challenged by Boyd's Cruciform Hermeneutic. I will wait for a full treatment of the two volume set.
Two quotes, or maybe they are my paraphrases, follow:
"The revelation of Jesus as Jesus supersedes any and everything which precedes Jesus."
"Scripture should be interpreted christocentrically and crucicentrically."
Now on to Vol 2.
I just finished "Crucifixion of the Warrior God; Vol 2" by Gregory A. Boyd.
I will only say that these 1300 pages, split between two volumes, is the most comprehensive work on the texts of terror I have seen.
This was the most challenging work I have ever read. (Thanks Doc.)
I would suggest if you have ever had issues, like I have, dealing with the texts of terror, buy this. If 1300 pages is too big of a bite, Boyd also released a popular version that is only 290 pages called "Cross vision."
It was very insightful and I am glad to be challenged by Boyd's Cruciform Hermeneutic. I will wait for a full treatment of the two volume set.
Two quotes, or maybe they are my paraphrases, follow:
"The revelation of Jesus as Jesus supersedes any and everything which precedes Jesus."
"Scripture should be interpreted christocentrically and crucicentrically."
Now on to Vol 2.
I just finished "Crucifixion of the Warrior God; Vol 2" by Gregory A. Boyd.
I will only say that these 1300 pages, split between two volumes, is the most comprehensive work on the texts of terror I have seen.
This was the most challenging work I have ever read. (Thanks Doc.)
I would suggest if you have ever had issues, like I have, dealing with the texts of terror, buy this. If 1300 pages is too big of a bite, Boyd also released a popular version that is only 290 pages called "Cross vision."
November 17, 2017
This is one of the most impressive works I've read in some time. I'm not sure I agree with everything -- that will take more time, thinking, and reading -- but it's an impressive argument. Much of what I initially felt would hinge on rationalizations turned out to be carefully done exegesis.
It is long and there are some repetitious moments (arguably necessary for the sake of completeness), but it's worth the read. There are many big ideas to grapple with here, whether to ultimately embrace or reject, and there's hefty scholarship behind it.
I'm not sure how the condensed, mainstream version of this book might read (Boyd's typically readable) or whether the arguments carry their full force in a shortened version, but the thinking here seems to be highly valuable and worth engaging.
It is long and there are some repetitious moments (arguably necessary for the sake of completeness), but it's worth the read. There are many big ideas to grapple with here, whether to ultimately embrace or reject, and there's hefty scholarship behind it.
I'm not sure how the condensed, mainstream version of this book might read (Boyd's typically readable) or whether the arguments carry their full force in a shortened version, but the thinking here seems to be highly valuable and worth engaging.
September 6, 2022
I was finally able to finish this 2 volume time! Boyd argues for a compelling hermeneutic that allows Scripture to be read without God being directly behind violent passages. In brief, since God is fully revealed in Jesus on the cross, any passage that presents God as other than having this self-giving character must be reinterpreted. He applies this interpretive lens to multiple stories in the OT (and even some in the NT).
Here are his 4 principles:
1) Since God is fully revealed in Jesus on the cross, any act attributed to God that doesn't match this character is an accomodation. God let's himself be misrepresented (as he does on the cross too).
2) Judgment in the Bible is God withdrawing his protection and letting sin reap its own consequences.
3) We are in the middle of a cosmic conflict, and there are spiritual beings and forces that oppose God and work to harm people.
4) God gives gifts/abilities that agents can use semiautonomously , meaning that humans can misuse supernatural gifts (akin to misusing our natural gifts/abilities).
Overall, while I'm still working some of this through, I find Boyd's case compelling. I also find that he is able to retain the authority of Scripture, while offering defensible interpretations of difficult passages.
Here are his 4 principles:
1) Since God is fully revealed in Jesus on the cross, any act attributed to God that doesn't match this character is an accomodation. God let's himself be misrepresented (as he does on the cross too).
2) Judgment in the Bible is God withdrawing his protection and letting sin reap its own consequences.
3) We are in the middle of a cosmic conflict, and there are spiritual beings and forces that oppose God and work to harm people.
4) God gives gifts/abilities that agents can use semiautonomously , meaning that humans can misuse supernatural gifts (akin to misusing our natural gifts/abilities).
Overall, while I'm still working some of this through, I find Boyd's case compelling. I also find that he is able to retain the authority of Scripture, while offering defensible interpretations of difficult passages.
February 4, 2020
I'm stuck between a 3.5 and a 4. I, by and large, concur with Boyd's framework although I was a bit annoyed by the often dismissive attitude toward other harmonization readings. Not ALL harmonization readings, of course, but some of them seemed more designed to exacerbate a problem in favor of the thesis than others. His section on Origen was fantastic and his work in the numerous appendices are worth the price of the book!
July 17, 2022
Despite having been a Christian for almost 17 years now, I have been deeply uncomfortable with the Old Testament throughout my life and have thus generally avoided it. Whereas the New Testament—and the figures of Jesus and, to a lesser extent, Paul in particular—have comforted my soul and challenged my moral capacities, the God that gets depicted in the Old Testament has always struck me as radically different from the God that I fell in love with in Jesus. I struggled to feel any love for the God who would command genocide (in addition to the many other divine actions that would trouble my conscience when reading the Hebrew Scriptures). But, for 15 years, I merely endeavored to put the best spin on these stories that I possibly could, while trying not to think about it too much and avoiding the Old Testament whenever possible. I assured myself that I would someday understand why such divine violence was necessary—regardless of whether this day would occur in my human life or in the next life.
But, for almost years now, I have been embarking on a quest to question some beliefs about God that I had once fathomed I was settled on. Making sense of The Old Testament was one of these tasks for me. I read a few authors that held a similar stance to Boyd’s—authors such as Bradley Jersak, Matthew DiStefano, and Michael Hardin. And I immediately sensed that their ideas seemed to make far more sense of the Biblical narrative than a flat reading of the Bible would warrant. These men’s ideas consistently resonated with my soul, but I was not quite won over by any of them. Brad Jersak opened the door for me in exploring the idea of a cruciform hermeneutic, but he seemed too repetitive and perhaps somewhat lacking in substantive evidence—and he struggled to paint a holistic picture of the Bible for me; Hardin conveyed endlessly fascinating and even mesmerizing ideas that I could hardly stop ruminating on, but he frequently came across as too dogmatic, and he took some of his concepts way, way too far for my liking; finally, while I found Distefano’s style and his bluntness refreshing, he sometimes seemed a bit biased and blinded by his hyper-progressivism—to the point of not seeming reliable. The works of each of these men drew forth a fascination inside of me, but they never left me feeling entirely satisfied with their presentation. I am delighted to say, though, that The Crucifixion of the Warrior God now soars for me as being, by leaps and bounds, the most impressive work that I have read on the topic of allowing our knowledge of Jesus to color our understanding of the Old Testament.
In The Crucifixion of the Warrior God, Gregory Boyd puts forth a method of interpreting Old Testament violence that he claims requires cross-informed faith. He argues that the character of Jesus (the definitive revelation of God), and his crucifixion in particular (the most important event in human history), reveals God to always be nonviolent and non-coercive, and he contends that any portrayal of divine violence in the Hebrew Scriptures reveals the fallen, culturally conditioned understanding of the Biblical authors. Boyd argues that because God refuses to “lobotomize people,” He must sometimes meet people where they are at—such that God likely resolved, with a grieving heart, that if it was a warrior God that Israel wanted to boast in (a god more that is like the various gods of the surrounding nations), then it was a warrior God that they would get. Boyd goes on to beautifully and poignantly contend that God’s willingness to get portrayed as a gruesome warrior figure actually illustrates how far He will stoop in order to meet anyone where they are at. Just as the cross illustrates how far God will go to non-coercively meet humanity in its darkest places, so does His willingness to get misrepresented in the Old Testament. In this manner, even Old Testament stories containing tremendous divine violence foreshadow Jesus and the cross. After all, did God not explicitly allow for divine accommodations from His perfect intentions when He allowed Israel to have a king—or when He allowed for polygamy and divorce in Israel? Why could not depictions of divine violence be viewed likewise as a divine accommodation? Boyd confesses that he had originally set out to write a very different book, one in which he would strive to put the best spin that he could as to why such divine violence was necessary during Old Testament times—but that he gave up about 50 pages in, resolving that his arguments were deeply insufficient. And more, importantly, he felt at a loss to perceive how such violence pointed to Jesus, which was the Figure Whom he knew that all of scripture was intended to point to. So Boyd began exploring ideas from a different angle—and then he struck gold. He realized how divine-violence texts can be deemed “God-breathed” without insisting on their precise historical accuracy or inerrancy in the same sense that most would understand the concept today.
In endeavoring to make sense of passages concerning Old Testament judgment, Boyd argues that God does indeed judge the world and inflict punishment, but that rather than directly causing the violence that such judgments must entail, God withdraws His hand of protection and allows matters to play out as they naturally would—whether this means that He allows individuals’ free choices play out, or whether it means that He permits Satan and demonic forces to temporarily wreak havoc, or whether this means that He merely withdraws his divine hand from subduing the fallen and chaotic Creation. This, he contends, is what true Biblical wrath looks like. Boyd illuminates countless portions of scripture where the authors temporarily break away from attributing the direct infliction of violent punishment to God and instead attribute such violence to the work of man or perhaps to evil forces or even the fallen Creation itself. Often, this occurs regarding events that the same authors had just finished attributing directly to God—which Boyd perceives as the Spirit breaking through into the text, despite the cultural conditioning and clouded understanding of the authors. One of Boyd’s points of evidence concerning this that most thoroughly blew me away was the fact that, in Numbers, God is attributed to the hardships that befall the Israelites in the wilderness. Yet Paul does not attribute the tragedies to God when he recounts these events. Instead, he attributes them to “the agent of destruction,” which served as an unambiguous reference to Satan and/or his demons during that time period. In fact, throughout the entirety of this chapter (1 Corinthians 6 where Paul warns his readers to avoid idolatry in order to avoid the negative consequences that Israel received in its past), Paul seems careful never to attribute any of these calamities that befell the Israelites throughout its history directly to God. Does this signify that Paul thus might have had a similar hermeneutic to Boyd? It seems likely. Might this entirely alter the way that we read all the various Pauline references that we encounter to divine wrath? Further related to this “destroyer” that Paul speaks of in 1 Corinthians 6, we see this agent mentioned once in Exodus in regard to it smiting the firstborn of Egypt (an action that the Exodus text otherwise attributes to solely God)—and yet another time as explicitly referencing Satan in Revelation 9. Without a doubt, the thing that most sets The Crucifixion of the Warrior God apart from other works that I have read on the subject would be the wealth of historical and Biblical evidence that Gregory Boyd provides. One can tell that the author is a true scholar; he seamlessly strings together all the little details of scripture that can be so easy to miss! Furthermore, Boyd’s appendix about the violence that gets depicted in the book of revelation—even while it may have made for a brief divergence from his central premise—thoroughly blew me away, bringing to light so many details about that prophetic work!
I do have a few middling critiques for The Crucifixion of the Warrior God. For instance, while I so appreciate Boy’s view of the atonement, and while I have little doubt that it served as an aspect of what transpired on the cross, I find it a bit overly simplistic and incapable in isolation of paying homage to all the Biblical texts concerning the atonement in scripture. Furthermore, I struggle to understand how Boyd can justify his preterist views with his view that God never directly causes violence, considering that a preterist reading of The Olivet Discourse seems to require us to conclude that Christ came in symbolically in His wrath in 70 AD. Since few would argue that Jesus came physically, does this not mean that He came symbolically in directly pouring out His wrath?
Ultimately, for such reasons, I would not go as far as Greg Boyd does in asserting that God never directly utilizes violence in order to accomplish restorative means—although I am certainly open to the possibility that He might not, as Boyd provided a fair amount of evidence. Personally, though, I feel that it is primarily the texts that depict God as commanding humans to commit violence that most demand an alternate interpretation. Regardless of whether his assessment is entirely correct or not, I am ever so thankful for Boyd’s work for stirring my soul and opening a door for me to understand—and maybe even love—the Old Testament in my future. As an aspiring author, I am a sucker for a good story with inspiring and thought-provoking themes integrated into the work that one may not notice at first glance—and I am starting to perceive how perhaps the Biblical narrative from beginning to end makes for the most astounding and beautiful story in existence. In Act 1, mankind tries to make sense of God, but largely creates Him in their own image. But God still meets mankind where they are at, and He bears their sins and their misconceptions of Him. In Act 2, God steps into humanity and becomes a man in order to reveal what to His creatures what He is in fact like and lay His life down for them—bearing their sin and delivering them from it in the process. I am thankful that Gregory Boyd has provided me with a way to read the Old Testament and feel genuine wonder and love for God. Despite a few qualms, the book earns five stars because it really is that important for me in the shifting of paradigms.
But, for almost years now, I have been embarking on a quest to question some beliefs about God that I had once fathomed I was settled on. Making sense of The Old Testament was one of these tasks for me. I read a few authors that held a similar stance to Boyd’s—authors such as Bradley Jersak, Matthew DiStefano, and Michael Hardin. And I immediately sensed that their ideas seemed to make far more sense of the Biblical narrative than a flat reading of the Bible would warrant. These men’s ideas consistently resonated with my soul, but I was not quite won over by any of them. Brad Jersak opened the door for me in exploring the idea of a cruciform hermeneutic, but he seemed too repetitive and perhaps somewhat lacking in substantive evidence—and he struggled to paint a holistic picture of the Bible for me; Hardin conveyed endlessly fascinating and even mesmerizing ideas that I could hardly stop ruminating on, but he frequently came across as too dogmatic, and he took some of his concepts way, way too far for my liking; finally, while I found Distefano’s style and his bluntness refreshing, he sometimes seemed a bit biased and blinded by his hyper-progressivism—to the point of not seeming reliable. The works of each of these men drew forth a fascination inside of me, but they never left me feeling entirely satisfied with their presentation. I am delighted to say, though, that The Crucifixion of the Warrior God now soars for me as being, by leaps and bounds, the most impressive work that I have read on the topic of allowing our knowledge of Jesus to color our understanding of the Old Testament.
In The Crucifixion of the Warrior God, Gregory Boyd puts forth a method of interpreting Old Testament violence that he claims requires cross-informed faith. He argues that the character of Jesus (the definitive revelation of God), and his crucifixion in particular (the most important event in human history), reveals God to always be nonviolent and non-coercive, and he contends that any portrayal of divine violence in the Hebrew Scriptures reveals the fallen, culturally conditioned understanding of the Biblical authors. Boyd argues that because God refuses to “lobotomize people,” He must sometimes meet people where they are at—such that God likely resolved, with a grieving heart, that if it was a warrior God that Israel wanted to boast in (a god more that is like the various gods of the surrounding nations), then it was a warrior God that they would get. Boyd goes on to beautifully and poignantly contend that God’s willingness to get portrayed as a gruesome warrior figure actually illustrates how far He will stoop in order to meet anyone where they are at. Just as the cross illustrates how far God will go to non-coercively meet humanity in its darkest places, so does His willingness to get misrepresented in the Old Testament. In this manner, even Old Testament stories containing tremendous divine violence foreshadow Jesus and the cross. After all, did God not explicitly allow for divine accommodations from His perfect intentions when He allowed Israel to have a king—or when He allowed for polygamy and divorce in Israel? Why could not depictions of divine violence be viewed likewise as a divine accommodation? Boyd confesses that he had originally set out to write a very different book, one in which he would strive to put the best spin that he could as to why such divine violence was necessary during Old Testament times—but that he gave up about 50 pages in, resolving that his arguments were deeply insufficient. And more, importantly, he felt at a loss to perceive how such violence pointed to Jesus, which was the Figure Whom he knew that all of scripture was intended to point to. So Boyd began exploring ideas from a different angle—and then he struck gold. He realized how divine-violence texts can be deemed “God-breathed” without insisting on their precise historical accuracy or inerrancy in the same sense that most would understand the concept today.
In endeavoring to make sense of passages concerning Old Testament judgment, Boyd argues that God does indeed judge the world and inflict punishment, but that rather than directly causing the violence that such judgments must entail, God withdraws His hand of protection and allows matters to play out as they naturally would—whether this means that He allows individuals’ free choices play out, or whether it means that He permits Satan and demonic forces to temporarily wreak havoc, or whether this means that He merely withdraws his divine hand from subduing the fallen and chaotic Creation. This, he contends, is what true Biblical wrath looks like. Boyd illuminates countless portions of scripture where the authors temporarily break away from attributing the direct infliction of violent punishment to God and instead attribute such violence to the work of man or perhaps to evil forces or even the fallen Creation itself. Often, this occurs regarding events that the same authors had just finished attributing directly to God—which Boyd perceives as the Spirit breaking through into the text, despite the cultural conditioning and clouded understanding of the authors. One of Boyd’s points of evidence concerning this that most thoroughly blew me away was the fact that, in Numbers, God is attributed to the hardships that befall the Israelites in the wilderness. Yet Paul does not attribute the tragedies to God when he recounts these events. Instead, he attributes them to “the agent of destruction,” which served as an unambiguous reference to Satan and/or his demons during that time period. In fact, throughout the entirety of this chapter (1 Corinthians 6 where Paul warns his readers to avoid idolatry in order to avoid the negative consequences that Israel received in its past), Paul seems careful never to attribute any of these calamities that befell the Israelites throughout its history directly to God. Does this signify that Paul thus might have had a similar hermeneutic to Boyd? It seems likely. Might this entirely alter the way that we read all the various Pauline references that we encounter to divine wrath? Further related to this “destroyer” that Paul speaks of in 1 Corinthians 6, we see this agent mentioned once in Exodus in regard to it smiting the firstborn of Egypt (an action that the Exodus text otherwise attributes to solely God)—and yet another time as explicitly referencing Satan in Revelation 9. Without a doubt, the thing that most sets The Crucifixion of the Warrior God apart from other works that I have read on the subject would be the wealth of historical and Biblical evidence that Gregory Boyd provides. One can tell that the author is a true scholar; he seamlessly strings together all the little details of scripture that can be so easy to miss! Furthermore, Boyd’s appendix about the violence that gets depicted in the book of revelation—even while it may have made for a brief divergence from his central premise—thoroughly blew me away, bringing to light so many details about that prophetic work!
I do have a few middling critiques for The Crucifixion of the Warrior God. For instance, while I so appreciate Boy’s view of the atonement, and while I have little doubt that it served as an aspect of what transpired on the cross, I find it a bit overly simplistic and incapable in isolation of paying homage to all the Biblical texts concerning the atonement in scripture. Furthermore, I struggle to understand how Boyd can justify his preterist views with his view that God never directly causes violence, considering that a preterist reading of The Olivet Discourse seems to require us to conclude that Christ came in symbolically in His wrath in 70 AD. Since few would argue that Jesus came physically, does this not mean that He came symbolically in directly pouring out His wrath?
Ultimately, for such reasons, I would not go as far as Greg Boyd does in asserting that God never directly utilizes violence in order to accomplish restorative means—although I am certainly open to the possibility that He might not, as Boyd provided a fair amount of evidence. Personally, though, I feel that it is primarily the texts that depict God as commanding humans to commit violence that most demand an alternate interpretation. Regardless of whether his assessment is entirely correct or not, I am ever so thankful for Boyd’s work for stirring my soul and opening a door for me to understand—and maybe even love—the Old Testament in my future. As an aspiring author, I am a sucker for a good story with inspiring and thought-provoking themes integrated into the work that one may not notice at first glance—and I am starting to perceive how perhaps the Biblical narrative from beginning to end makes for the most astounding and beautiful story in existence. In Act 1, mankind tries to make sense of God, but largely creates Him in their own image. But God still meets mankind where they are at, and He bears their sins and their misconceptions of Him. In Act 2, God steps into humanity and becomes a man in order to reveal what to His creatures what He is in fact like and lay His life down for them—bearing their sin and delivering them from it in the process. I am thankful that Gregory Boyd has provided me with a way to read the Old Testament and feel genuine wonder and love for God. Despite a few qualms, the book earns five stars because it really is that important for me in the shifting of paradigms.
June 26, 2017
I found Boyd's principles of redemptive withdrawal, cosmic conflict, semi-autonomous power, and divine accommodation truly helpful. I appreciated his attempt to wrestle through the violent portraits of God in the OT and his insistence that we should see Jesus as the climax of God's self-revelation, and that this must essentially be cross-shaped. I discovered several new dimensions to ancient near eastern culture and worldview, which serve to illuminate in several ways the accounts under discussion.
Oddly though, I find the overall argument less compelling than Boyd seems to, at least when it comes to applying it to particular OT passages. This may simply be because I need to apply the principles through my own readings to discover for myself the explanatory force of the argument. However, since we are, it seems, inescapably bound to our own times and inextricably embedded within our own culture, I wonder if perhaps the case Boyd wants to make is simply too "Western."
Ultimately, I am glad to have read this book. I'll be thinking on it for a while.
Oddly though, I find the overall argument less compelling than Boyd seems to, at least when it comes to applying it to particular OT passages. This may simply be because I need to apply the principles through my own readings to discover for myself the explanatory force of the argument. However, since we are, it seems, inescapably bound to our own times and inextricably embedded within our own culture, I wonder if perhaps the case Boyd wants to make is simply too "Western."
Ultimately, I am glad to have read this book. I'll be thinking on it for a while.
March 28, 2018
I could ramble on about all of my many and varied grievances with this but honestly, the main one is that Boyd reads the OT completely differently from how Jesus does.
Jesus insists that if you don’t believe the scriptures and see how the scriptures point to him, you’ve not understood them - i.e. understand the scriptures and you can see Jesus.
Boyd insists that we can’t understand the scriptures without first knowing Jesus, and that knowing Jesus helps us to see that the scriptures are inaccurate in their portrayal of God.
If his arguments were persuasive, then Jesus’ chief arguments for his status and work in the NT would evaporate. It’s something of a relief, then, that he is so entirely unsuccessful in his endeavours.
Jesus insists that if you don’t believe the scriptures and see how the scriptures point to him, you’ve not understood them - i.e. understand the scriptures and you can see Jesus.
Boyd insists that we can’t understand the scriptures without first knowing Jesus, and that knowing Jesus helps us to see that the scriptures are inaccurate in their portrayal of God.
If his arguments were persuasive, then Jesus’ chief arguments for his status and work in the NT would evaporate. It’s something of a relief, then, that he is so entirely unsuccessful in his endeavours.
August 2, 2017
It was truly everything I thought it would be. A brilliant, challenging, work of theology and exegesis that I feel I went to battle with over the course of the summer months of 2017. I can see more clearly that ever before, the beauty of the cross in the Old Testament. While I feel there were far too many typos in the book, they are inconsequential when compared to the enormity of what the book as done for me.
March 19, 2018
Boyd exposits the utter centrality of Christ and the cross to all biblical theology, particularly the problem texts of the OT. This is quite simply the best (and the only good) book I have read about the problem of texts such as the Canaanite genocide.
Not many theologians get to write a book like this in their career -- a 10-year project written in community with many other theologians and Christians and based on an impressively comprehensive corpus. The length of the two-volume work is definitely warranted. Boyd belabors over chapters and chapters the indispensable nature of a Christocentric, crucicentric hermeneutic, and he also points out how many, many theologians who have promoted such a hermeneutic have failed to live up to it when it comes to Yahweh-sanctioned OT violence.
After the hermeneutical groundwork, Boyd establishes his apparently unique Cruciform Thesis, comprised of four principles that make sense of otherwise inexplicable passages, mainly in the OT, where it appears that God commands, sanctions, or executes horrific violence that appears to be in direct contradiction to the teaching and life of Jesus. Fortunately, Boyd tackles head on and completely rejects Marcionism, and he also reviews other approaches to the texts in question. Finding that they fall short, he argues for a reinterpretation of the texts based on the following four principles:
The Principle of Cruciform Accommodation: This principle will be the most controversial of the four because it does require an unconventional reading of some texts. Boyd states the principle as follows: "In the process of God 'breathing' the written witness to his covenantal faithfulness, God sometimes displayed his triune, cruciform agape-love by stooping to accommodate his self-revelation to the fallen and culturally conditioned state of his covenant people" (644). Boyd coins the term "literary mask" for what is going on; he argues that at times God is willing in his own revelation to be portrayed as a violent ANE God because the people through whom he was revealing himself were so fallen in their understanding of him. Boyd believes that this representation is a literary parallel to what Christ did in assuming the position of a dangerous criminal being executed on the cross. This principle will be controversial because it means reading some violent passages as not meaning what they explicitly state. Boyd would argue that everything must be interpreted in light of Christ and the cross.
The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal: I find it easier for me to agree with this principle, which states that "God judges sin, defeats evil, and works for the redemption of creation by withdrawing his protective presence, thereby allowing evil to run its self-destructive course and ultimately to self-destruct" (768).
The Principle of Cosmic Conflict: This principle is related to a lot of Boyd's work from the 1990s on the invisible conflict between spiritual forces. Boyd expressed the principle this way: "The agents that carry out violence when God withdraws his protective presence to bring about a divine judgment include perpetually-threatening cosmic forces of destruction" (1010). He uses this principle, sometimes in conjunction with others, to explain such violence as the Flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and even the death of Korah and his rebels.
The Principle of Semiautonomous Power: Like the first principle, I had never really thought about this possibility; unlike the first principle, I find it much easier to accept that "when God confers divine power on select people, he does not meticulously control how they use it" (1196). The section of the book on this principle I found quite edifying, particularly in Boyd's exposition of how Christ could have at any time disobeyed God and abused the power he had (e.g., by calling on angels to deliver him from Satan, or even by not dying on the cross), but that he never did, in sharp contrast to Moses and the OT prophets. Boyd uses this principle to explain incidents such as a bear mauling 42 young men.
The last three principles are much easier to accept, coming from a conservative hermeneutic, than the first principle, and I need to think about the Cruciform Thesis for a long time. Boyd works his Open Theism into the Thesis, and it seems to work fine, but fortunately it is not essential to the Thesis. Much closer to the core of the Thesis is his Christus Victor view of the atonement, for Boyd assumes an Anabaptist, fundamentally nonviolent view of God. If that view of God and the atonement is correct, then he may very well have the key to all violence in the Bible; if it is not, then I still am not entirely sure where that leaves us exegetically, especially in regard to genocide in the OT. The only plausible alternative I see is allegorical interpretation, which of course has its own problems. But regardless of whether he is entirely right or wrong, Boyd has delivered a tour de force that represents the most honest and humble consideration of these hard passages that I have ever read. Theologians and OT scholars will be able to build on his work, and I am grateful to him for reintroducing me in a hopeful way to a set of passages to which I had all but thrown up my hands.
On a final note, I am just happy to have actually read the whole two volumes, and I think that it should count as two books (at least) on Goodreads!
Not many theologians get to write a book like this in their career -- a 10-year project written in community with many other theologians and Christians and based on an impressively comprehensive corpus. The length of the two-volume work is definitely warranted. Boyd belabors over chapters and chapters the indispensable nature of a Christocentric, crucicentric hermeneutic, and he also points out how many, many theologians who have promoted such a hermeneutic have failed to live up to it when it comes to Yahweh-sanctioned OT violence.
After the hermeneutical groundwork, Boyd establishes his apparently unique Cruciform Thesis, comprised of four principles that make sense of otherwise inexplicable passages, mainly in the OT, where it appears that God commands, sanctions, or executes horrific violence that appears to be in direct contradiction to the teaching and life of Jesus. Fortunately, Boyd tackles head on and completely rejects Marcionism, and he also reviews other approaches to the texts in question. Finding that they fall short, he argues for a reinterpretation of the texts based on the following four principles:
The Principle of Cruciform Accommodation: This principle will be the most controversial of the four because it does require an unconventional reading of some texts. Boyd states the principle as follows: "In the process of God 'breathing' the written witness to his covenantal faithfulness, God sometimes displayed his triune, cruciform agape-love by stooping to accommodate his self-revelation to the fallen and culturally conditioned state of his covenant people" (644). Boyd coins the term "literary mask" for what is going on; he argues that at times God is willing in his own revelation to be portrayed as a violent ANE God because the people through whom he was revealing himself were so fallen in their understanding of him. Boyd believes that this representation is a literary parallel to what Christ did in assuming the position of a dangerous criminal being executed on the cross. This principle will be controversial because it means reading some violent passages as not meaning what they explicitly state. Boyd would argue that everything must be interpreted in light of Christ and the cross.
The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal: I find it easier for me to agree with this principle, which states that "God judges sin, defeats evil, and works for the redemption of creation by withdrawing his protective presence, thereby allowing evil to run its self-destructive course and ultimately to self-destruct" (768).
The Principle of Cosmic Conflict: This principle is related to a lot of Boyd's work from the 1990s on the invisible conflict between spiritual forces. Boyd expressed the principle this way: "The agents that carry out violence when God withdraws his protective presence to bring about a divine judgment include perpetually-threatening cosmic forces of destruction" (1010). He uses this principle, sometimes in conjunction with others, to explain such violence as the Flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and even the death of Korah and his rebels.
The Principle of Semiautonomous Power: Like the first principle, I had never really thought about this possibility; unlike the first principle, I find it much easier to accept that "when God confers divine power on select people, he does not meticulously control how they use it" (1196). The section of the book on this principle I found quite edifying, particularly in Boyd's exposition of how Christ could have at any time disobeyed God and abused the power he had (e.g., by calling on angels to deliver him from Satan, or even by not dying on the cross), but that he never did, in sharp contrast to Moses and the OT prophets. Boyd uses this principle to explain incidents such as a bear mauling 42 young men.
The last three principles are much easier to accept, coming from a conservative hermeneutic, than the first principle, and I need to think about the Cruciform Thesis for a long time. Boyd works his Open Theism into the Thesis, and it seems to work fine, but fortunately it is not essential to the Thesis. Much closer to the core of the Thesis is his Christus Victor view of the atonement, for Boyd assumes an Anabaptist, fundamentally nonviolent view of God. If that view of God and the atonement is correct, then he may very well have the key to all violence in the Bible; if it is not, then I still am not entirely sure where that leaves us exegetically, especially in regard to genocide in the OT. The only plausible alternative I see is allegorical interpretation, which of course has its own problems. But regardless of whether he is entirely right or wrong, Boyd has delivered a tour de force that represents the most honest and humble consideration of these hard passages that I have ever read. Theologians and OT scholars will be able to build on his work, and I am grateful to him for reintroducing me in a hopeful way to a set of passages to which I had all but thrown up my hands.
On a final note, I am just happy to have actually read the whole two volumes, and I think that it should count as two books (at least) on Goodreads!
January 22, 2018
These two volumes are inconsistent, intelectually dishonest, and literally deify the idea of pacifism.
May 30, 2019
It’s good but I’m too dumb to understand it all
July 30, 2019
I first read Crossvision and was so stoked I took on the whole 2 volume work. Both are very readable and changed my life for the better
June 2, 2017
I highly enjoy Boyd's work, and his concern with being both thorough and pastoral. This is highly evident in the painstaking work to keep his thesis within the confines of confessional orthodoxy by building off the work(s) of church fathers (especially Origin). Further, his cruciform thesis is highly compelling: I have been swayed by proto-forms of it in the major works of scholars like Michael Gorman. Boyd's work deserves commendation for continuing the conversation forward with rigor and passion. However, I have three main critiques:
1) The book mainly suffered most from length. While his work is meant to be academic in nature, and that does come with certain expectations of "dialogue partners" and fending off potential objections to his thesis, the Crucifixion of the warrior god could have shaved off most the contents in volume 1 in order to streamline the argumentation and thesis. Or, at least, been almost 2/3 the size that it is.
2) The biggest issue comes through the theme of Gods divine condescension as reveled through the cross. Is the clearest picture of God found in Jesus? Yes. Is the cross the place where Jesus' life and work most evidently point to Gods love/humility/character, etc? Indeed. Cruciformity is humility, and that's the divine trait over-and-against human pride (the root of sin). None of that need be argued about. It's quite a convincing case; the NT seems clear on this, and the church has a long history of understanding Jesus this way. What is less convincing: the need to always understand God's "undoing" of evil and sin through the lens of non-violence (my critique is coming from a worldview that positively embraces Jesus' non-violent human ethic for citizens of the Kingdom). One of the prime examples would be Boyd's conception of account such as the flood; essentially, Boyd argues that the flood is God withdrawing his divine protection from creation enough that demonic forces are responsible for the consequences (because evil is unsustainable, and the forces of evil will only collapse/implode when left unchecked). Yet, it seems like God would still ultimately be responsible despite this line of reasoning, even if he removes himself from the equation somehow (something along the lines of Kants moral imperative and a philosophical "trolley" analogy spring to mind). So, Gods not exactly "off the hook" in a moral way. And Boyd's pitbull analogy--while not a straw-man per se--did not seem to account for necessary details in the problem of evil. But....I'm honestly not sure why, if God is good, His assessment and methodologies in dealing with evil can't be trusted, even if they're "violent" looking. Full disclosure: the only problems I have with violent portraits in scripture stem from human-on-human violence that seem to be assumed as divinely ordained (such as herem passages). Ultimately, I think that Boyd's work actually didn't explore how vastly ahead of its time the OT was. There's something supernatural about its composition when you start to actively investigate how ANE laws, like the lex talionis, are mitigated differently in Israelite Law codes (compared to Hammurabi's codes, etc). Further, bringing in the concept of psychological trauma, the APA defines it as such: "a type of damage to the mind that occurs as a result of a severely distressing event. Trauma is often the result of an overwhelming amount of stress that exceeds one's ability to cope, or integrate the emotions involved with that experience." Now, a trauma-informed worldview actually highlights that trauma is about how we process something (please read THE BODY KEEPS THE SCORE by Van der Kolk on the subject). One thing can be traumatic for someone, and not traumatic for another. Because this is how human brains are wired, it creates space for "violence" to be more circumstantial. I.E...a divine portrait of violence doesn't necessarily "have" to be perceived as traumatic, if it's processed (the action was "just" per se), or healing can still happen (a broken limb can be traumatic on a brain/body, but healing can happen, and the trauma dealt with). I don't see the need to find a "non violent" interpretation of God's character mitigated by the cross in every single "perceived" picture of violence in the OT. The concept of violence may be too abstract to justify a need to do so. But I am more persuaded by a joint Crucifixion-and-resurrection hermeneutic than I am by a sole "cruciform" thesis. My hope is placed on Jesus as the crucified-and-resurrected king, and in God's (re)new(ed) creation. Which brings me to my third and final critique.
3) I am persuaded by a cruciform king and his cruficorm kingdom (cf, chapter one in Michael Gorman's INHABITING THE CRUCIFORM GOD, and Jeremy Treat's THE CRUCIFIED KING). But not for Girardian scapegoat reasons (google "why Giradians exist" for a one-stop shop, devastating, critique of Giradianism), or for a purely non violent atonement theology. PSA, as well as Christus Victor, and all the various other kaleidoscopic facets of atonement theology, are too convincing to eject from a rich understanding of what happened in the cross. Further, the resurrection is where our hope lies—that's even basic to Judaism leading up through the first century. Is the resurrection possible without the cross? I don't think so. But to only have a cruciform thesis, not a co-equal emphasis (or, possibly, greater emphasis) on the resurrection and (re)new(ed) creation as a part of the structure seems like a pretty big misstep for a Christian hermeneutic. According to Paul in 1 Cor 15, more hermeneutic emphasis is given to the implications of Jesus' resurrection beyond His purely having "died according to the scriptures." Rather, He was "buried, and rose again three days later, and then appeared" to a lot of people. And, based upon these resurrection-based experiences, Paul extrapolates the support for Christian experience, baptism, the nature of the resurrected body, etc.. His point has more to do with the implications of the resurrection. Again, to summarize this last critique: I think a better hermeneutic would be a cruciform-and-resurrection one.
Anyways, that's just my opinion. Again, I think Boyd did a commendable job. I would want that clear. And I am persuaded that the cross is not central enough to the church's hemenutical principles as a whole. Boyd's spot-on in much of his critique of the church's historic collusion with violence and "power(s)" that lead to destruction. I would hope that my words here would be understood as they're intended: a critique, not a tearing down as to offer something different/new. I would like to build off the cruciform thesis, and modify it to a cruciform-and-resurrection thesis.
1) The book mainly suffered most from length. While his work is meant to be academic in nature, and that does come with certain expectations of "dialogue partners" and fending off potential objections to his thesis, the Crucifixion of the warrior god could have shaved off most the contents in volume 1 in order to streamline the argumentation and thesis. Or, at least, been almost 2/3 the size that it is.
2) The biggest issue comes through the theme of Gods divine condescension as reveled through the cross. Is the clearest picture of God found in Jesus? Yes. Is the cross the place where Jesus' life and work most evidently point to Gods love/humility/character, etc? Indeed. Cruciformity is humility, and that's the divine trait over-and-against human pride (the root of sin). None of that need be argued about. It's quite a convincing case; the NT seems clear on this, and the church has a long history of understanding Jesus this way. What is less convincing: the need to always understand God's "undoing" of evil and sin through the lens of non-violence (my critique is coming from a worldview that positively embraces Jesus' non-violent human ethic for citizens of the Kingdom). One of the prime examples would be Boyd's conception of account such as the flood; essentially, Boyd argues that the flood is God withdrawing his divine protection from creation enough that demonic forces are responsible for the consequences (because evil is unsustainable, and the forces of evil will only collapse/implode when left unchecked). Yet, it seems like God would still ultimately be responsible despite this line of reasoning, even if he removes himself from the equation somehow (something along the lines of Kants moral imperative and a philosophical "trolley" analogy spring to mind). So, Gods not exactly "off the hook" in a moral way. And Boyd's pitbull analogy--while not a straw-man per se--did not seem to account for necessary details in the problem of evil. But....I'm honestly not sure why, if God is good, His assessment and methodologies in dealing with evil can't be trusted, even if they're "violent" looking. Full disclosure: the only problems I have with violent portraits in scripture stem from human-on-human violence that seem to be assumed as divinely ordained (such as herem passages). Ultimately, I think that Boyd's work actually didn't explore how vastly ahead of its time the OT was. There's something supernatural about its composition when you start to actively investigate how ANE laws, like the lex talionis, are mitigated differently in Israelite Law codes (compared to Hammurabi's codes, etc). Further, bringing in the concept of psychological trauma, the APA defines it as such: "a type of damage to the mind that occurs as a result of a severely distressing event. Trauma is often the result of an overwhelming amount of stress that exceeds one's ability to cope, or integrate the emotions involved with that experience." Now, a trauma-informed worldview actually highlights that trauma is about how we process something (please read THE BODY KEEPS THE SCORE by Van der Kolk on the subject). One thing can be traumatic for someone, and not traumatic for another. Because this is how human brains are wired, it creates space for "violence" to be more circumstantial. I.E...a divine portrait of violence doesn't necessarily "have" to be perceived as traumatic, if it's processed (the action was "just" per se), or healing can still happen (a broken limb can be traumatic on a brain/body, but healing can happen, and the trauma dealt with). I don't see the need to find a "non violent" interpretation of God's character mitigated by the cross in every single "perceived" picture of violence in the OT. The concept of violence may be too abstract to justify a need to do so. But I am more persuaded by a joint Crucifixion-and-resurrection hermeneutic than I am by a sole "cruciform" thesis. My hope is placed on Jesus as the crucified-and-resurrected king, and in God's (re)new(ed) creation. Which brings me to my third and final critique.
3) I am persuaded by a cruciform king and his cruficorm kingdom (cf, chapter one in Michael Gorman's INHABITING THE CRUCIFORM GOD, and Jeremy Treat's THE CRUCIFIED KING). But not for Girardian scapegoat reasons (google "why Giradians exist" for a one-stop shop, devastating, critique of Giradianism), or for a purely non violent atonement theology. PSA, as well as Christus Victor, and all the various other kaleidoscopic facets of atonement theology, are too convincing to eject from a rich understanding of what happened in the cross. Further, the resurrection is where our hope lies—that's even basic to Judaism leading up through the first century. Is the resurrection possible without the cross? I don't think so. But to only have a cruciform thesis, not a co-equal emphasis (or, possibly, greater emphasis) on the resurrection and (re)new(ed) creation as a part of the structure seems like a pretty big misstep for a Christian hermeneutic. According to Paul in 1 Cor 15, more hermeneutic emphasis is given to the implications of Jesus' resurrection beyond His purely having "died according to the scriptures." Rather, He was "buried, and rose again three days later, and then appeared" to a lot of people. And, based upon these resurrection-based experiences, Paul extrapolates the support for Christian experience, baptism, the nature of the resurrected body, etc.. His point has more to do with the implications of the resurrection. Again, to summarize this last critique: I think a better hermeneutic would be a cruciform-and-resurrection one.
Anyways, that's just my opinion. Again, I think Boyd did a commendable job. I would want that clear. And I am persuaded that the cross is not central enough to the church's hemenutical principles as a whole. Boyd's spot-on in much of his critique of the church's historic collusion with violence and "power(s)" that lead to destruction. I would hope that my words here would be understood as they're intended: a critique, not a tearing down as to offer something different/new. I would like to build off the cruciform thesis, and modify it to a cruciform-and-resurrection thesis.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 22, 2025
The problem of Old Testament violence is tricky. How do we reconcile God telling the Israelites to slaughter every man, woman, child, and even animals in certain conquest narratives with Jesus telling us to love our enemies and refrain from all violence?
Man... I have so many thoughts and am still thinking about this tome regularly. There are plenty of valid critiques and responses to Boyd's approach which should be read (see Matthew Lynch or Centre for the Study of Bible and Violence to start), but in a nutshell (keep in mind this is 1,500 pages condensed into a few paragraphs) it is as follows:
If Jesus is the exact imprint of what God is like as Hebrews says, and Paul resolves to know nothing except Christ crucified, then the center of the center of everything Jesus was about in his life and ministry is revealed on the cross. On the cross, we see God stooping a distance so unimaginably low to ascribe unimaginable worth to every person of every tribe, tongue, and nation throughout history. The cross reveals a God who would rather let his enemies crush Him than use His divine authority to crush His enemies. As such, this ultimate revelation of God that surpasses all others must be the lens through which we view the rest of scripture, and especially violent portraits of God in the OT.
To illustrate, Boyd has readers engage in a thought experiment: If you were walking down the road with no idea as to what was happening and saw Jesus on the cross, what would you see? Most likely, you'd see a God-forsaken slave or enemy of the state that got what was coming to him. Furthermore, on the cross we see how ugly our sin looks. We see the culmination of human and supernatural evil in full cooperation with each other, and that cooperation results in the death of the Son of God. But when you look beneath the surface with the eyes of faith, as Christians do, we see the most defining event in human (and nonhuman) history: the revelation of God. THIS is what God looks like. We see God, out of love, stooping to bear our sin in all its ugliness so that we may choose to follow His way and be reconciled.
In the same way, Boyd argues, violent portraits of God in the OT show God doing exactly what he did on the cross: stooping an extremely low distance, bearing the ugly, horrific nature of the sin of his people out of love and covenantal faithfulness. Just as Christ was literally crucified in the NT, so God is literarily crucified in the OT. In the OT, God had to stoop/accommodate his stiff-necked and stubborn people who were culturally influenced by their pagan Ancient Near Eastern contemporaries, and thus, this is why we get depictions of Yahweh as a violent warrior God.
Now, there is so much I like/want to believe about this approach. I want to believe that all "unChistlike" depictions of God are simply the result of fallen human perception or that God was willing to let Himself be portrayed in ways contrary to his actual character (for the record, I still think there is room for this, see Psalm 50:21, but probably not to the extent Boyd suggests... I'm still wrestling with it.)
However, I'm not sure that everything in the OT can be reduced to simply "this is the author's culturally conditioned view of God" or, as Boyd argues, "This is where the Spirit of Christ is breaking through the author's fallen, culturally conditioned worldview." In essence, Boyd's approach "solves" the problem of OT violence, but as Matthew Lynch says in his critique, we must be careful of all encompassing solutions to complex problems. I also thinks he overstates the conquest narratives being "genocide". If every man, woman, and child was literally murdered, and if that was the goal of the conquests he would be correct, but I think he misses the mark in this area, among others (see Flood and Fury or Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric? for further discussion). Boyd is an incredibly impassioned writer and at times overstates his claims.
With that said, I think Boyd is right on the nose (or as close as you can be) with his insights into the following areas:
1. The reality of supernatural/cosmic warfare. There are intelligent supernatural beings in active rebellion to God's will, and the earth is caught in the crossfire. These agents are bent on destruction. Their aim is to steal, kill, and destroy, and it ties into the next point.
2. How God judges sin. Dubbed "The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal", Boyd shares how there are numerous passages that describe God's wrath or judgement as nothing more than God, with a grieving heart, withdrawing His life giving protective hand to let agents bent on destruction to do what they already wanted to do. For a small sample of such examples, see the "band of destroying angels" in Ps 78:49 in reference to the Exodus narrative, or Paul's use of a "destroying angel" in reference to Israel's grumblers in the desert. We also see examples of God "hiding His face" when Israel is conquered by foreign armies.
3. God uses the destructive effects of sin to boomerang back on itself. Paul talks about how if the (cosmic, in my view) powers and authorities knew that killing Jesus would spell their doom, they never would have done it. We see in Revelation how the Prostitute is destroyed by the beast. There are tons of other examples I could go into here (and need to revisit, frankly), but I believe Boyd's case is strong and scripturally backed.
4. Most importantly, I came away with a much deeper understanding and appreciation of the unfathomable love God demonstrates for us on the cross. The cross is absolutely absurd, in all the best ways!
To wrap up, if you are willing to take the time to engage with this 2 volume work (or the non-academic version Cross Vision), you will most definitely be challenged and maybe have some cognitive dissonance. Embrace it. Wrestle with it. Stack it up against Scripture. Supplement it with other works on OT violence (I'd start with Flood and Fury or Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric?) for a more rounded perspective.
As a cool bonus, I discovered there are some Anabaptist/Mennonite scholars in my family tree, thanks for the introduction Greg!
Man... I have so many thoughts and am still thinking about this tome regularly. There are plenty of valid critiques and responses to Boyd's approach which should be read (see Matthew Lynch or Centre for the Study of Bible and Violence to start), but in a nutshell (keep in mind this is 1,500 pages condensed into a few paragraphs) it is as follows:
If Jesus is the exact imprint of what God is like as Hebrews says, and Paul resolves to know nothing except Christ crucified, then the center of the center of everything Jesus was about in his life and ministry is revealed on the cross. On the cross, we see God stooping a distance so unimaginably low to ascribe unimaginable worth to every person of every tribe, tongue, and nation throughout history. The cross reveals a God who would rather let his enemies crush Him than use His divine authority to crush His enemies. As such, this ultimate revelation of God that surpasses all others must be the lens through which we view the rest of scripture, and especially violent portraits of God in the OT.
To illustrate, Boyd has readers engage in a thought experiment: If you were walking down the road with no idea as to what was happening and saw Jesus on the cross, what would you see? Most likely, you'd see a God-forsaken slave or enemy of the state that got what was coming to him. Furthermore, on the cross we see how ugly our sin looks. We see the culmination of human and supernatural evil in full cooperation with each other, and that cooperation results in the death of the Son of God. But when you look beneath the surface with the eyes of faith, as Christians do, we see the most defining event in human (and nonhuman) history: the revelation of God. THIS is what God looks like. We see God, out of love, stooping to bear our sin in all its ugliness so that we may choose to follow His way and be reconciled.
In the same way, Boyd argues, violent portraits of God in the OT show God doing exactly what he did on the cross: stooping an extremely low distance, bearing the ugly, horrific nature of the sin of his people out of love and covenantal faithfulness. Just as Christ was literally crucified in the NT, so God is literarily crucified in the OT. In the OT, God had to stoop/accommodate his stiff-necked and stubborn people who were culturally influenced by their pagan Ancient Near Eastern contemporaries, and thus, this is why we get depictions of Yahweh as a violent warrior God.
Now, there is so much I like/want to believe about this approach. I want to believe that all "unChistlike" depictions of God are simply the result of fallen human perception or that God was willing to let Himself be portrayed in ways contrary to his actual character (for the record, I still think there is room for this, see Psalm 50:21, but probably not to the extent Boyd suggests... I'm still wrestling with it.)
However, I'm not sure that everything in the OT can be reduced to simply "this is the author's culturally conditioned view of God" or, as Boyd argues, "This is where the Spirit of Christ is breaking through the author's fallen, culturally conditioned worldview." In essence, Boyd's approach "solves" the problem of OT violence, but as Matthew Lynch says in his critique, we must be careful of all encompassing solutions to complex problems. I also thinks he overstates the conquest narratives being "genocide". If every man, woman, and child was literally murdered, and if that was the goal of the conquests he would be correct, but I think he misses the mark in this area, among others (see Flood and Fury or Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric? for further discussion). Boyd is an incredibly impassioned writer and at times overstates his claims.
With that said, I think Boyd is right on the nose (or as close as you can be) with his insights into the following areas:
1. The reality of supernatural/cosmic warfare. There are intelligent supernatural beings in active rebellion to God's will, and the earth is caught in the crossfire. These agents are bent on destruction. Their aim is to steal, kill, and destroy, and it ties into the next point.
2. How God judges sin. Dubbed "The Principle of Redemptive Withdrawal", Boyd shares how there are numerous passages that describe God's wrath or judgement as nothing more than God, with a grieving heart, withdrawing His life giving protective hand to let agents bent on destruction to do what they already wanted to do. For a small sample of such examples, see the "band of destroying angels" in Ps 78:49 in reference to the Exodus narrative, or Paul's use of a "destroying angel" in reference to Israel's grumblers in the desert. We also see examples of God "hiding His face" when Israel is conquered by foreign armies.
3. God uses the destructive effects of sin to boomerang back on itself. Paul talks about how if the (cosmic, in my view) powers and authorities knew that killing Jesus would spell their doom, they never would have done it. We see in Revelation how the Prostitute is destroyed by the beast. There are tons of other examples I could go into here (and need to revisit, frankly), but I believe Boyd's case is strong and scripturally backed.
4. Most importantly, I came away with a much deeper understanding and appreciation of the unfathomable love God demonstrates for us on the cross. The cross is absolutely absurd, in all the best ways!
To wrap up, if you are willing to take the time to engage with this 2 volume work (or the non-academic version Cross Vision), you will most definitely be challenged and maybe have some cognitive dissonance. Embrace it. Wrestle with it. Stack it up against Scripture. Supplement it with other works on OT violence (I'd start with Flood and Fury or Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric?) for a more rounded perspective.
As a cool bonus, I discovered there are some Anabaptist/Mennonite scholars in my family tree, thanks for the introduction Greg!
October 27, 2017
This is not a short book (given the 2 volumes), but I did find it a worthwhile read. As the Author made known his Anabaptist viewpoint, as well as his strong support of Origen, I wondered how I as a Lutheran Pastor would find this work. First, I think the Author does quite a good and fair job in his dealings with Luther (and Augustine), and I have always had a Christ-centred, and as the Author argues, a Cross-centred view of Scripture - and that this must influence my hermeneutics, especially when it comes to the OT.
So overall I was pretty much in agreement or at least sympathetic with the Author's arguments and proposals in volume 1. I did feel that he was arguing for more of a Pacifism than I am currently comfortable with. I also feel that he treated Jesus' actions when cleansing the Temple needed more work. The instances of Jesus' harshness (or appearance of harshness) are too easily dismissed / explained giving how crucial these need to be handled for the overall hermeneutic that is being argued to stand.
Sadly, I didn't enjoy the 2nd volume as much - which I found strange as I expected to see the implementation of the hermeneutic to turn some of the areas in which I was only sympathetic to more in favour of the Author. Whilst I still agree with many of his arguments and his application, I came to feel as though the Author was pushing the model too far. I think he does a marvellous job of examining the sacrifice of Isaac, for example - but the areas of Theodicy (such as Job), and of natural disaster / judgement (such as the Flood) just feel like "passing the buck". That is, it comes across that God is not "at fault" since he has allowed other people / other forces (with the possibility of heavenly forces controlling nature strongly argued) to carry out these deeds. But to my thinking, if these people / forces cannot do these actions without God allowing it, then it really doesn't matter how reluctant or heart-broken God is, as Sovereign the responsibility is still his. So whilst I agree that God's judgement is often the removal of his protection as the Author argues, I don't see how this makes God "non-violent".
I also think the Author has given too much weight to many of the arguments of the New Atheists, and thus comes across as trying to prove the God is non-violent so as to answer them - which I think fails. I did appreciate his examining of works by Paul Copan - an author whom I do enjoy (and similar to the current Author don't fully agree with) - but do think that the Author too easily dismisses some of the arguments (similar to my complaints above about Cleansing of the Temple).
So I think this is a good book for those who wish to re-examine their understanding of the Old Testament (as well as NT books like Revelation), with a good coverage throughout Church History. This book is aimed at those with more of a scholarly interest, and is well referenced - with a very nice section near the end encouraging much further reading!
So overall I was pretty much in agreement or at least sympathetic with the Author's arguments and proposals in volume 1. I did feel that he was arguing for more of a Pacifism than I am currently comfortable with. I also feel that he treated Jesus' actions when cleansing the Temple needed more work. The instances of Jesus' harshness (or appearance of harshness) are too easily dismissed / explained giving how crucial these need to be handled for the overall hermeneutic that is being argued to stand.
Sadly, I didn't enjoy the 2nd volume as much - which I found strange as I expected to see the implementation of the hermeneutic to turn some of the areas in which I was only sympathetic to more in favour of the Author. Whilst I still agree with many of his arguments and his application, I came to feel as though the Author was pushing the model too far. I think he does a marvellous job of examining the sacrifice of Isaac, for example - but the areas of Theodicy (such as Job), and of natural disaster / judgement (such as the Flood) just feel like "passing the buck". That is, it comes across that God is not "at fault" since he has allowed other people / other forces (with the possibility of heavenly forces controlling nature strongly argued) to carry out these deeds. But to my thinking, if these people / forces cannot do these actions without God allowing it, then it really doesn't matter how reluctant or heart-broken God is, as Sovereign the responsibility is still his. So whilst I agree that God's judgement is often the removal of his protection as the Author argues, I don't see how this makes God "non-violent".
I also think the Author has given too much weight to many of the arguments of the New Atheists, and thus comes across as trying to prove the God is non-violent so as to answer them - which I think fails. I did appreciate his examining of works by Paul Copan - an author whom I do enjoy (and similar to the current Author don't fully agree with) - but do think that the Author too easily dismisses some of the arguments (similar to my complaints above about Cleansing of the Temple).
So I think this is a good book for those who wish to re-examine their understanding of the Old Testament (as well as NT books like Revelation), with a good coverage throughout Church History. This book is aimed at those with more of a scholarly interest, and is well referenced - with a very nice section near the end encouraging much further reading!
September 5, 2018
Greg Boyd’s *Crucifixion Of the Warrior God* is nothing short of a tour de force in understanding how the revelation of God through the cruciform nature of Christ is supposed to revolutionise our understandings of the depictions of “divine/divine endorsed” violence within the Old Testament.
Instead of just moralising these scenes away, or attempting to downplay/dismiss them on basis of historical data, or attempting to synthesise these contrasting portraits of God with what we are shown in Jesus’ life and death, Boyd offers another approach.
Following the traditions/trajectories of the early church and the authors of the biblical texts themselves, Boyd suggests that through the lens of the crucifixion (and the cruciform posture that we see exhibited in Jesus’ ministry) we need to look back on these portraits and ask not only what the Cross exposes about the validity of these portraits, but also how does the God-breathed recording of these scenes speak of the Cross: a Cruciform Hermeneutic.
Through his artful assessment of the New Testament and early church tradition within volume one, Boyd beautifully lays down the groundwork for his thesis. Concluding that in the same way as we understand the horror and brutality of the crucifixion to be God bearing the sin and violence of humanity, so too do the violent scenes of the OT reflect this sin-bearing nature of God. To use Boyd’s apt description, these texts of horror also perform as “Literary Crosses”. Within his second volume, Boyd then takes this hermeneutic and, by taking a closer look at a vast array of violent episodes within the OT, he discerns how we can perceive this sin-bearing nature of God at work within the narrative.
Personally, I think this double-volume work is phenomenal and offers an important paradigm shift to our reading of the scriptures; a thesis that doesn’t deny the God-breathed nature of the text, but that also illuminates our minds to the generational consistency of God’s nonviolent nature.
That’s not to say that I agree with everything in this volume, I do have a few minor and major niggles here and there (e.g., although I’d agree with Boyd’s assessment of God’s “wrath”, I would probably go further then him and suggest that even the language of “withdrawal” needs to be assessed as it still assigns much culpability to God—and maybe I’d be wrong to do so, based on Boyd’s own refutations to this objection). But I’d still happily identify as being in the Cruciform Hermeneutic school of thought that Boyd has shed light on (in fact, this work has provided some much needed affirmation to a chapter that I’ve written in my next book).
Overall, this is a must read—regardless of which side of the fence you sit on. And not only do I foresee this work being pivotal in opening the sluice gates for further developments and adaptations of the the Cruciform Hermeneutic being articulated, but I can also see this work as being one that cannot be ignored by those who are interested in honestly wrestling with the Bible.
Thanks for your courage and words, Greg!
—Tristan Sherwin, author of *Love: Expressed*
Instead of just moralising these scenes away, or attempting to downplay/dismiss them on basis of historical data, or attempting to synthesise these contrasting portraits of God with what we are shown in Jesus’ life and death, Boyd offers another approach.
Following the traditions/trajectories of the early church and the authors of the biblical texts themselves, Boyd suggests that through the lens of the crucifixion (and the cruciform posture that we see exhibited in Jesus’ ministry) we need to look back on these portraits and ask not only what the Cross exposes about the validity of these portraits, but also how does the God-breathed recording of these scenes speak of the Cross: a Cruciform Hermeneutic.
Through his artful assessment of the New Testament and early church tradition within volume one, Boyd beautifully lays down the groundwork for his thesis. Concluding that in the same way as we understand the horror and brutality of the crucifixion to be God bearing the sin and violence of humanity, so too do the violent scenes of the OT reflect this sin-bearing nature of God. To use Boyd’s apt description, these texts of horror also perform as “Literary Crosses”. Within his second volume, Boyd then takes this hermeneutic and, by taking a closer look at a vast array of violent episodes within the OT, he discerns how we can perceive this sin-bearing nature of God at work within the narrative.
Personally, I think this double-volume work is phenomenal and offers an important paradigm shift to our reading of the scriptures; a thesis that doesn’t deny the God-breathed nature of the text, but that also illuminates our minds to the generational consistency of God’s nonviolent nature.
That’s not to say that I agree with everything in this volume, I do have a few minor and major niggles here and there (e.g., although I’d agree with Boyd’s assessment of God’s “wrath”, I would probably go further then him and suggest that even the language of “withdrawal” needs to be assessed as it still assigns much culpability to God—and maybe I’d be wrong to do so, based on Boyd’s own refutations to this objection). But I’d still happily identify as being in the Cruciform Hermeneutic school of thought that Boyd has shed light on (in fact, this work has provided some much needed affirmation to a chapter that I’ve written in my next book).
Overall, this is a must read—regardless of which side of the fence you sit on. And not only do I foresee this work being pivotal in opening the sluice gates for further developments and adaptations of the the Cruciform Hermeneutic being articulated, but I can also see this work as being one that cannot be ignored by those who are interested in honestly wrestling with the Bible.
Thanks for your courage and words, Greg!
—Tristan Sherwin, author of *Love: Expressed*
October 16, 2019
Boyd takes the common view of progressive revelation—the idea that God progressively reveals more of himself and his plan for us over time, culminating in the life and ministry of Christ—a step further by discarding scriptural inerrancy. The Bible, to him, is more a human work than a divine one, documenting our growing understanding and interpretation of God, rather than his progressive revelation. Hence, we may dispense with the bronze age depiction of a god who commands genocide or permits his soldiers to take female slaves following the defeat of an enemy for the purpose of raping them.
I find these passages as troubling and problematic as he does. Placing this in the context of this being merely the writers' interpretation of God and his commands is certainly appealing.
My chief criticism of his thesis is that it fails to ground the interpretation of scripture in anything stronger than "I don't like this, therefore I attribute it to the writer's bias." The reading of scripture should always challenge us. It should be able to point out to us when we are wrong. His approach is dangerously close to simply dismissing anything we don't like.
A better grounding would preserve divine inspiration in an intelligent way, and I suspect that he is onto something regarding how we ought to read scripture. Commandments against homosexuality, the eating of shellfish, and left-handedness may be applicable to a bronze age people in a way that they shouldn't be in contemporary America. The Bible does contain truth, and finding it needs some kind of standard that doesn't lead to contradictory ideas that whatever you find is true for you.
That said, the work is thought-provoking and presents some good ideas. We ought to be challenged in the way we read scripture, and we ought to seriously think about the way that we do so. He encourages this throughout and presents some possibilities that are worth evaluating, which may be neighbors to some really good hermeneutical approaches.
It's worth a read, if you're not put off by its sheer length. I rate it at only three stars because it does seem incomplete.
I find these passages as troubling and problematic as he does. Placing this in the context of this being merely the writers' interpretation of God and his commands is certainly appealing.
My chief criticism of his thesis is that it fails to ground the interpretation of scripture in anything stronger than "I don't like this, therefore I attribute it to the writer's bias." The reading of scripture should always challenge us. It should be able to point out to us when we are wrong. His approach is dangerously close to simply dismissing anything we don't like.
A better grounding would preserve divine inspiration in an intelligent way, and I suspect that he is onto something regarding how we ought to read scripture. Commandments against homosexuality, the eating of shellfish, and left-handedness may be applicable to a bronze age people in a way that they shouldn't be in contemporary America. The Bible does contain truth, and finding it needs some kind of standard that doesn't lead to contradictory ideas that whatever you find is true for you.
That said, the work is thought-provoking and presents some good ideas. We ought to be challenged in the way we read scripture, and we ought to seriously think about the way that we do so. He encourages this throughout and presents some possibilities that are worth evaluating, which may be neighbors to some really good hermeneutical approaches.
It's worth a read, if you're not put off by its sheer length. I rate it at only three stars because it does seem incomplete.
January 5, 2022
I give the book five stars despite the fact that I disagree profoundly with aspects of it. First the good: Boyd does a masterful job of arguing his case about divine accommodation and has done the church a great service in that regard. For anyone on the lookout for a serious deep dive into issues surrounding the conquest of Canaan and violent episodes in the Bible, the bibliographies at the end alone merit 3-4 stars on their own.
But there are challenges. Whether one finds his proposed solution tenable depends on accepting Boyd's approach to the atonement, open theism, pacifism and biblical inspiration. If we grant that Moses and Joshua were in fact mass murderers, why would Jesus or the other New Testament authors continually sidestep this embarrassing reality? God in a vision tells Peter that the food laws have been revoked but never reprimands him for his confrontation of Ananias and Sapphira; Paul the persecutor is struck blind and told that he is working against God’s plan, not for it in a round-about way. Nor can I fathom how the OT God, so regularly filled with anger against a stiff-necked and contrary people, would never bother to confront Israel with the reality of this great evil in their generation if indeed the moral justification for the conquest was so flimsy and another instance of idolatrous zeal. Using the Lord’s name in vain was a serious offense, even in that apparently narrower and culturally conditioned time. I fear that in propping up a "nonviolent" portrait of God, Boyd has instead imagined a scenario in which God is almost completely passive.
But there are challenges. Whether one finds his proposed solution tenable depends on accepting Boyd's approach to the atonement, open theism, pacifism and biblical inspiration. If we grant that Moses and Joshua were in fact mass murderers, why would Jesus or the other New Testament authors continually sidestep this embarrassing reality? God in a vision tells Peter that the food laws have been revoked but never reprimands him for his confrontation of Ananias and Sapphira; Paul the persecutor is struck blind and told that he is working against God’s plan, not for it in a round-about way. Nor can I fathom how the OT God, so regularly filled with anger against a stiff-necked and contrary people, would never bother to confront Israel with the reality of this great evil in their generation if indeed the moral justification for the conquest was so flimsy and another instance of idolatrous zeal. Using the Lord’s name in vain was a serious offense, even in that apparently narrower and culturally conditioned time. I fear that in propping up a "nonviolent" portrait of God, Boyd has instead imagined a scenario in which God is almost completely passive.
June 25, 2021
Apart from the Bible itself, no other book has helped me know God better. Would definitely recommend to anyone wrestling with biblical portrayals of a violent warrior god. I read Copan's Is God a Moral Monster right before this and that was the perfect transition. Instead of putting the "best spin" on Old Testament portrayals of God as Copan does, Boyd wrestles deeply with the text's claims.
Main argument: we must treat Christ crucified as the hermeneutic center of Scripture. This compels us to see violence ascribed to God through the lens of the eternally self-emptying, enemy-loving Christ, not vice versa. When we do this, we can recognize God accommodating himself to the fallen perception of ancient authors. I should say, he does all this while remaining absolutely committed to the entire canon as God-breathed and authoritative.
Couple notes on the length, to encourage people:
Boyd's a pastor so it's a very easy read, despite the length. You can get through it pretty quick.
If you're well familiar with biblical theology already (think Origin, Barth, Bauckham, Moltmann, Christus victor versus penal substitution), then you could probably skip much of the first volume, even though I thought it served as an excellent review.
His use of footnotes is a foretaste of heaven! They helped me build quite the reading list now on the biblical case for nonviolence, Christ as the center, and ANE context.
Main argument: we must treat Christ crucified as the hermeneutic center of Scripture. This compels us to see violence ascribed to God through the lens of the eternally self-emptying, enemy-loving Christ, not vice versa. When we do this, we can recognize God accommodating himself to the fallen perception of ancient authors. I should say, he does all this while remaining absolutely committed to the entire canon as God-breathed and authoritative.
Couple notes on the length, to encourage people:
Boyd's a pastor so it's a very easy read, despite the length. You can get through it pretty quick.
If you're well familiar with biblical theology already (think Origin, Barth, Bauckham, Moltmann, Christus victor versus penal substitution), then you could probably skip much of the first volume, even though I thought it served as an excellent review.
His use of footnotes is a foretaste of heaven! They helped me build quite the reading list now on the biblical case for nonviolence, Christ as the center, and ANE context.
April 7, 2025
For the first time in my 30+ years following Jesus I feel at peace with the contradiction I have seen in Jesus character vs. the violence of God in the OT. I began with Boyd’s CrossVision and was so curious to learn more, that I bought this 2 volume work and devoured it over the last year. I’m eternally indebted to Boyd for helping me resolve this issue conflict. As an evangelistic, I see so many walking away from the Gospel because of bad and incomplete answers to this question, and now I feel I have a better and more nuanced answer to offer. I also did not anticipate how much my heart needed to believe in the non-violence of God. Now that I know that hidden behind that kind shepherd facade is not a scary, violent Father ready to smite me, I have found the depth of my capacity to understand and receive God’s love had grown one hundred fold. Thank you, Greg, for taking the time to so thoughtfully write this work. You’ve changed me forever.
July 1, 2017
Boyd's work here is challenging but important. How are we as Christians to interpret the violent passages of the Bible (especially the Old Testament)? How can we maintain the Bible's witness to Christ crucified and also understand the passages where God commands, condones, or participates in violent acts of war and retribution? Boyd seeks to answer these questions not with rational explanations but with an understanding of how God has progressively revealed himself through his people, their sacred writings, and ultimately through Jesus' commands against violence and accepting the violence of evil forces and men upon himself at the cross. The answer is not easy but rings true to God's character in Christ. Boyd refuses to negate or weaken the "God breathed" nature of the scriptures while holding forth Christ and his witness as the final Word.
September 13, 2023
I'm shocked at how many people enjoy this book.
I purchased it because Greg's thesis really intrigued me, and I wanted to learn more because there were so many problem passages I was finding with his view. Upon reading this book (twice I might add) I can honestly say that I think Greg's view of OT violence is far from convincing, and ironically instead of dealing with moral qualms white westerners have with OT violence, I actually think his view creates even more. I found myself agreeing with NT Wright's view on this work, where he said "At first I was thinking 'Ah, this is interesting,' but the more I listened, the more I was unconvinced." A much better book on OT violence would be "Is God a Moral Monster?" by Paul Capon.
My honest review: avoid this book at all costs, I would never recommend it to anyone. Two volumes of wasted time and non-stop eisegesis.
I purchased it because Greg's thesis really intrigued me, and I wanted to learn more because there were so many problem passages I was finding with his view. Upon reading this book (twice I might add) I can honestly say that I think Greg's view of OT violence is far from convincing, and ironically instead of dealing with moral qualms white westerners have with OT violence, I actually think his view creates even more. I found myself agreeing with NT Wright's view on this work, where he said "At first I was thinking 'Ah, this is interesting,' but the more I listened, the more I was unconvinced." A much better book on OT violence would be "Is God a Moral Monster?" by Paul Capon.
My honest review: avoid this book at all costs, I would never recommend it to anyone. Two volumes of wasted time and non-stop eisegesis.
November 17, 2019
It took me a year and a half but I made it through this one. The slowdown mostly happened because I read his "Crossvision" the popular level version of the same topic which then made it really hard to slog through the version in which Boyd "shows his work". With that said I am glad I did and incredibly grateful that this text exists in the world. Certainly I don't agree with him on all points (I think he is a little more determined than is strictly necessary to avoid allegorical and symbolic readings of the text), but I do think that this is, hands down, the strongest systematic exegesis I have encountered. I suspect that Boyd's "Cruciform Thesis" will become an integral component 0f any Anabaptist theology which wants to stay both robustly Anabaptist and robustly protestant-orthodox.
August 10, 2021
There's plenty I disagree with here, but this is the most comprehensive work on biblical violence, and it is constantly interesting, sincere, and worth thinking about. Boyd is thorough and clearly marks the way and navigates all the issues that need to be addressed when thinking through and developing an approach to the violence in Scripture. It also helps that Boyd's prose is easy to read and understand. This is not a book I broadly agree with but a book I learned a lot from and recommend. One thing that Boyd and I agree on is that Christ is the ultimate revelation of God and our answers will be found in Him.
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