Jots and Tittles

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ:

Since I have come to Colorado State University, I have grown tremendously in my faith. The foundation for that faith, however, was laid at First Presbyterian Church of Brighton, Colorado, thanks to many of you who are now on the Session. You have watched me grow up, helped me learn, and without your influence I would never have come to this place. For all that you have done for me, I am grateful.

Now, however, I would like to address the Session regarding an issue which I think requires the prayerful consideration of every Christian. The nature of God has always been a difficult issue to address, precisely because, as we are finite and God is infinite, we can never hope to fully understand the mysterious Being we worship. But there are certain things He has revealed to us, and it is these I would like to encourage each of you to consider, both with each other and during your private time with God.

It has come to my attention that a movement called the Voices of Sophia has garnered the attention of some members of our church. Their goals are admirable: to ensure that no one is excluded from the church, either consciously or unconsciously, and to be a voice for those groups which have experienced oppression at the hands of the church in the past. However, some of the theology put forth by either the Voices of Sophia themselves or the groups with which they are affiliated unsettles me, and I would like to take this opportunity to show you what I have found so that you can make an educated decision regarding this group. I would encourage each of you to prayerfully consider the arguments I bring up here.

Sophia, of course, is the Greek word for “wisdom,”and the Voices of Sophia are right in saying that the “Wisdom/Sophia language comes from a strong biblical tradition” (citation). In the New Testament, the word “sophia” appears over 50 times; in the Old Testament, various forms of “wisdom” appear almost 200 times. However, wisdom is portrayed as a part of God's character which he freely gives to his children, not as another name for God. In the one instance where God and wisdom are equated, 1 Corinthians 1:24-30, a closer reading of verse 30 shows that Sophia is still not an appropriate name for God. It says, “He [God] is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom [sophia] from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption” (NRSV, 1 Cor 1:30). Here we must apply the reformation principle of allowing Scripture to interpret Scripture: while Jesus became sophia from God, he also became righteousness and sanctification and redemption. No one suggests that we begin calling God “Dikaiosunē” (righteousness), “Hagiasmos” (sanctification) or “Apolutrōsis” (redemption). These are all, of course, essential characteristics or functions of the Godhead, but they are not alternative names for God.

Proverbs 8, another passage often cited when referring to Sophia (although it is written in Hebrew, and therefore contains no mention of the Greek word “sophia”), also gives an essential distinction between God and his wisdom. In this chapter, wisdom is personified as a woman, calling to the people to come and learn from her. Beginning in verse 22, she describes her history, beginning with, “The LORD created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago” (Proverbs 8:22, emphasis mine). She makes it clear from the very first that she is a part of God's creation, not a part of God. She was created before anything else, but she was still created, and as Elizabeth Achtemeier says, “the God of the Bible will not let himself be identified with his creation... human beings are to worship not the creation but the Creator” (Achtemeier 4).

Sophia-worship, as it is currently practiced, seems often to lead to worship of creation. Take, for example, the prayers of Terry Tempest Williams, as quoted in Spahr's speech posted on the Voices of Sophia website: “My prayers no longer bear the proper masculine salutation. If we could introduce the Mother body as a spiritual counterpoint to the Godhead, perhaps our inspiration and devotions would no longer be directed to the stars, but our worship could return to the earth.” The problem with this, of course, is that our worship, prayers, devotions and inspirations should not be directed to the stars or to the earth or to any other aspect of the created world, but to God. To worship anything other than God is idolatry.

The main problem, though, is that God has chosen a few, very specific names for himself throughout the scriptures, and selecting others invites confusion and, eventually, idolatry. Indeed, as Dustin Eshelman, who served as a Youth Advisory Delegate on the General Assembly Council Review in 1994 (which was charged with reviewing the controversial RE-Imagining conference of 1993 that fueled the Sophia movement), says, “we can never, ever truly understand the vastness of God; therefore Re-Naming God, RE-Imagining this great I AM is irrelevant and uncalled-for.”

It is not as though God has neglected to give us many different ways to address him. Indeed, once I sat down and, as a way to bring myself closer to God, wrote down all the names I could think of for him off the top of my head. I was able to come up with a page full of names before I had to start slowing down and looking things up in my Bible. There are five principle metaphors with which God has chosen to reveal himself, though: “King, Father, Judge, Husband, and Master, and finally, decisively, as the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Achtemeier 3). This final metaphor is given extra emphasis because it was the name revealed to us by God himself, in the person of Jesus Christ. If we believe, as all Christians do, that Jesus is the incarnate God, how can we seek to alter the name with which he instructed us to address God? He was not ambiguous about it. His instructions regarding how to pray specifically tell us to speak to “Our Father, who art in heaven” (Matthew 6:9b). The Greek here is “patēr,” which is translated as “father.” In fact, the root “patēr” is still used in many of our words today to designate a father; take “paternal,” for example. This is not news to any of us, but it bears repeating. Jesus is God. If we, as Christians, have sworn to follow God, obeying in all things, how can we refuse to call him by the name he has given himself?

This, I realize, is uncomfortable for some women. Perhaps they have had horrible experiences with the father figures in their lives, or perhaps they have never had a father figure and find the idea foreign and frightening. These women may find it more comfortable to address God with less personal terms, such as Rock, Way, Refuge, Fortress, or others. And such names are all metaphors used in the Bible to describe God—certainly it is not wrong to think of God on these terms. But the Scriptures are very clear about God's character, and they ultimately depict a father figure who is the epitome of all things good. The God of the Bible is intensely personal, and it is this essential personal-ness which is lost in such metaphors as those listed above. In God, a woman finds love, peace, encouragement, rest, salvation, strength, identity, hope, and everything she could possibly need. God does challenge us, as all good relationships will do. He expects more of us than anyone else ever could, but his forgiveness when we fall short of those expectations surpasses human understanding. He calls us to be his companions, his partners, his very bride! Only a woman can fully relate to the joys of being wife to a worthy partner. How much more joy, then, can be found in being the wife of a worthy God? “No impersonal designations of God,” says Achtemeier, “except they be explained by the Bible's personal names for him, can adequately express that gracious and demanding relationship of love with himself into which God woos and calls us” (3). There is no need to let our relationships with fallible human men sully our relationship with the greatest Father and Husband, the God who calls each of us into a loving and intimate relationship with him.

So what about substituting male imagery for female imagery? Surely there can be nothing wrong with simply replacing “Father” with “Mother.” But “God is never called 'Mother' in the Bible and is never addressed or thought of as female deity,” reminds Achtemeier (3). This is one of the things which makes Christianity unique compared to other religions of its time, for the early Christians (and before them, the Israelites) were surrounded by cultures and religions which participated in goddess worship. In fact, Elaine Pagels made a very astute observation when she noted, “the absence of feminine symbolism of God marks Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in striking contrast to the world's other religious traditions, whether in Egypt, Babylonia, Greece and Rome, or Africa, Polynesia, India, and North America” (qtd in Achtemeier 3). This sets YHWH apart, distinguishing him from the other religions with which his people were (and are) surrounded.

There is, however, another reason for God to have deliberately omitted feminine language from his Word to us. A female Creator is much more difficult to distinguish from her creation, for a woman gives birth to what she has created. In all the goddess religions, the goddess birthed the world from her body. By contrast, our God spoke it into being. “If God is portrayed in feminine language, the figures of carrying in the womb, of giving birth, and of suckling immediately come into play” (Achtemeier 4), and the images move from God creating a world separate from himself to a goddess who gives birth to a world which is a part of her. This opens up everything in creation as potentially something to be worshiped—and that is frightening! With a masculine God, however, these connections are not given the chance to be made, and the idolatry which is so easily accessed through the feminine imagery is avoided.

These are all important issues, and must be considered prayerfully by all Christians. However, there is one further claim which some members of the Voices of Sophia have made that I think speaks most eloquently about why their theology has come under question, and it regards the theory of Atonement.

This is a difficult and emotional topic for any Christian. As Eshelman says, “when someone who claims to be a Christian comes along and tries to take away that atonement for which I live... I get angry” (citation). I think this is the reaction of many Christians when they hear that the purpose of Christ's death is being called into question. The atonement, the idea that Jesus' death on the cross holds the power to save every human being who has lived, is living, or will live, is central to the Christian faith. It is what countless people have staked their lives on, and to suggest that it is a misconception has some very far-reaching consequences.

Yet that is just what such women as Inna Ray, writing for The Journal of Women and Religion (a link to which is on the Voices of Sophia website), have claimed. “By renewing and developing soteriological theories and metaphors alternative to the substitutionary Atonement theory of salvation by justification,” says Ray, “women can reject it as one of many theories of salvation and still consider themselves to be orthodox Christians.” This is not the case. The Scriptures are clear: Jesus' death is the only thing that saves us. As the old hymn goes, paraphrasing Paul, “forbid it, Lord, that I should boast save in the death of Christ, my King.” Paul says in Galatians, “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal. 6.14). And again in 2 Corinthians, “For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ” (2 Cor. 1.5). He expresses similar sentiments in nearly every letter he writes. For Paul, the Atonement is the reason for faith; without Jesus' saving death, he has nothing.

Ray's argument is typical of the arguments against atonement. She says that the atonement has been used “to control, denigrate and exploit women” (94), and that it paints a picture of God as an abusive parent. In the first, she has a very good point: the atonement has given some people an excuse to cause others to suffer, and to excuse their complaints with a comparison to the sufferings of Christ. This, however, does not mean that atonement theology is flawed. All it means is that humans, with our great capacity for evil, have distorted God's plan for us and used the gospel to enslave others, when it was meant to free us. In other words, it is not the atonement theology which is flawed, but the men who have used it to further their own personal agendas who are flawed. It is a fallacy to try to project their failings onto God's work, especially when the Scriptures are so clear about the saving power of Christ's death. Even our church's constitution proclaims the atonement; in Chapter VIII of the Scots Confession, it affirms that

it behooved the Messiah and Redeemer to be true God and true man, because he was able to undergo the punishment of our transgressions and to present himself in the presence of his Father's judgment, as in our stead, to suffer for our transgression and disobedience, and by death to overcome him that was the author of death. But because the Godhead alone could not suffer death, and neither could manhood overcome death, he joined both together in one person, that the weakness of one should suffer and be subject to death—which we had deserved—and the infinite and invincible power of the other, that is, of the Godhead, should triumph, and purchase for us life, liberty, and perpetual victory. So we confess, and most undoubtedly believe. (Book of Confessions, 3.08)

This condemns no one; rather, it frees everyone from the punishment we would otherwise deserve and “purchase[s] for us life, liberty, and perpetual victory.” This is not a story of oppression or slavery, but of freedom and life! The suffering is necessary to procure our salvation, and so far it is, in a sense, good. But it does not say that all should suffer, nor does it suggest that human suffering is something to strive for. On the contrary, Christ suffered so that we would not have to. What suffering we do experience is not something that God rejoices in, nor is it something we should rejoice in. However, we can take comfort in knowing that he, too, has suffered greatly.

The second part of Ray's argument, that Atonement theology paints a picture of God as an abusive parent, is more complicated. “God's plan for Jesus was that he must suffer to satisfy the damaged honor of God,” she explains. “This casts God in the role of an abusive parent who says things like: 'This hurts me more than it hurts you,' and 'It hurts me to have to punish you like this—but you have forced me to punish you'” (Ray 102). This is simply not so. First of all, just because a parent says such things does not make him abusive. Indeed, it is probably true that any punishment, even if it is only the revoking of privileges, hurts the parents more than it hurts the child. But more importantly, Ray has missed the entire point of the atonement. God's plan for Jesus was not that “he must suffer to satisfy the damaged honor of God,” but that he would suffer and die to make us acceptable in his sight. “Love can forbear, and Love can forgive... but Love can never be reconciled to an unlovely object,” quotes Traherne in C. S. Lewis's The Problem of Pain. And our sin makes us unlovely objects. If God is Love, how can he be reconciled to us while we are still sinful? The only way to make us lovely objects is to remove the sin in which we live, “for all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3.23). God did not demand Christ's death because his honor was damaged, or because it was pleasing to him, but because he loves us and he wants to be with us. But his Love cannot be reconciled to us while we remain unlovely, and the only way to make us pleasing in his sight is for someone to interfere and cover our imperfections. “The worse you are,” explains Lewis, “the more you need it and the less you can do it. The only person who could do it perfectly would be a perfect person—and he would not need to do it” (Mere Christianity 57). God's solution requires someone fully God and fully human—someone who can be perfect, but who can still take on the punishment we have earned.

Ray is mistaking God's justice for his mercy. Pure justice is not merciful; on the contrary, it is harsh, unrelenting. Were God only just, we would all be damned. As it is, though, God is a merciful God, and his mercy tempers his judgment. He sent Christ to take our punishment for us, because Jesus can handle the punishment we deserve, and we cannot. That is not an abusive parent, that is a Father who tries to ease the suffering we would otherwise endure.

My friends, if this is the kind of theology that the Voices of Sophia advocates, then I believe it is time to take a step back and reassess what the Gospel tells us. I want to encourage you again to carefully consider my arguments here, in prayer and fellowship. This has the potential to change the face of our faith, and that is not something to take lightly. I pray that each of us has the courage to stand up for the God who stands up for us, and to boldly proclaim his true Gospel throughout the world.

Sincerely,

Your Sister in Christ,

Brittany Dowdy