The Dogmatic Necessity of AD 70

Raymund Schwager (Jesus in the Drama of Salvation) that human beings are “simultaneously involved in two situations. As responsible for sins, all belong to the great band of those who form an alliance against God’s anointed, judge him, drive him out, and reject him. As victims of their own and others’ sins, they find themselves part of the universal community of those with whom the crucified one identified himself and for whom, through his ordeal of being struck and killed, he turned evil actions toward the good” (192-3).

He points to Jesus’ prayer that His killers be excused to highlight the fact that even while murdering, they were also victims: “Their actions arose not from their wide-awake decision, but it just happened to them, so that they were more victims than agents. The reasoning in Jesus’ request also makes clear that the distinction between responsible action and being a victim is not identical to that between active deeds and passive suffering. The executioners of Jesus were certainly active at the crucifixion, but because of their lack of knowledge they were ultimately not responsible agents: in their actions they were victims. They acted under a spell and took the role of that power to which they fell victim” (171).

For Schwager, this raises the hope of universal salvation: “Christ by his yes in the event of the cross identified himself with all other people insofar as they are victims of sin. This inclusion of all has an immediate consequence for the exclusivity of his deed: if he identified himself with all victims of sin, then every offense against a fellow person or against one’s self is aimed against him” (192). Jesus who identified with victims is the victim in all victimizations.

He finds this dynamic in several of the parables of Jesus that seem to end with vengeance and retribution against those who defy God. Schwager notes that the judged often anticipate Jesus’ own experience: “The unmerciful creditor is given over to the torturers . . . and Jesus also was handed over to the soldiers for torture (scourging, crown of thorns). The man without a wedding garment . . . and the worthless servant are both cast into ‘outer darkness.’ In a similar way Jesus found himself in the outer darkness of abandonment by God. . . . Many parables speak of the evildoers being in different ways violently killed . . . and Jesus too experienced such a death.” Even the goats who are cursed (Matthew 25:41) share the fate of Christ who was made a curse (195). This leads Schwager to conclude that the parables don’t actually predict how the Father will respond to the rejection of the Son. And if the Father forgives the assault on His Son, “there is no other thinkable deed which God would not willingly forgive” (197).

And yet: Jesus says that the sin against the Spirit will not be forgiven, and Paul and the other apostles often warn of an impending judgment. If the Father has departed from the parabolic script, how do these fit?

Schwager’s powerful and often insightful treatment of the atonement goes off track because he doesn’t take the story of the gospel to its end. Pentecost is not the concluding act in the establishment of the new covenant, and the concluding act is precisely an act of judgment and retribution against those who have rejected not only the Son but the Spirit, who assaulted not only the Bridegroom but the Bride. If we don’t delete AD 70 from our soteriology or from our account of first-century history, it becomes much harder to delete divine retribution and punishment from the evangelical complex.