At Mass tonight, the Gospel reading from the lectionary features a story that has been a favorite of mine for years - the account of Christ on the road to Emmaus from Luke. This pivotal passage has played an instrumental role in my spiritual journey for the past 22 years and continues to uniquely strengthen my faith. In reflecting upon the significance of this passage, I want to explore the importance of Scripture, the Eucharist, and Christian fellowship in our own faith journey, drawing on key elements of this powerful story.

In Luke's Gospel, the story of the road to Emmaus portrays Jesus engaging in a transformative conversation with two of His disciples. As they walked together, the disciples were deep in conversation, trying to make sense of the recent events surrounding Christ's crucifixion and the empty tomb. Jesus, unrecognized by the disciples, began to teach them about the Scriptures, starting with Moses and the prophets. In doing so, He revealed how the Old Testament scriptures pointed to Him as the Messiah (Luke 24:25-27).

"Christ is the goal of the Law and the Prophets: they all looked forward to His coming and announced it; and He interprets them and is their fulfillment."

 - St. Gregogry of Nyssa, Against Eunomius

This encounter teaches us that by immersing ourselves in Scripture, we can deepen our understanding of Christ and allow our hearts to burn within us as we grow in faith. As believers, we should strive to approach the Word of God with open hearts, seeking the guidance of the Holy Spirit to illuminate our understanding and transform our lives.

"As they were walking, He opened for them the Scriptures, which they had read, and He explained the prophecies, which they had heard, but had not understood."

 - St. Ephram the Syrian, Commentary on Tatian's Diatessaron

In this story, the disciples' eyes were opened to recognize Christ during the breaking of bread (Luke 24:30-31). This revelation in the context of a shared meal highlights the importance of the Eucharist, a sacrament at the heart of Christian worship. The Eucharist serves as a vital means to encounter the risen Christ, affirming His presence in our lives and strengthening our connection to Him.

Through this sacrament, we experience Christ's presence and grace in a tangible way, fortifying our faith and fostering a deeper connection to the Church as the body of Christ. As we partake in the Eucharist, we are reminded of Christ's sacrifice and the transformative power of His love, which sustains us on our spiritual journey.

"Let us break bread with the Lord, and He will make Himself known to us in the breaking of bread, as He did to the disciples at Emmaus."

The account of the road to Emmaus also emphasizes the importance of Christian fellowship and worship. The disciples initially invited Jesus to stay with them, and through their shared meal and conversation, their faith was strengthened. As we actively engage in communal worship and partake in the Eucharist, we can draw strength and encouragement from our brothers and sisters in Christ.

"It is in the company of the saints, gathered in fellowship, that we come to know Christ and experience His presence, just as the disciples did on the road to Emmaus."

 - Origen, Commentary on the Gospel of John

These experiences help us cultivate a deeper relationship with Christ and empower us to serve as witnesses to the transformative power of the Gospel. Through our involvement in the Church community, we can support and encourage one another as we navigate the joys and challenges of our faith journey together.

The road to Emmaus story demonstrates the interconnectedness of Scripture, fellowship, and the Eucharist as essential elements of the Christian faith. By placing these elements at the heart of our own faith journey, we can cultivate a deeper relationship with Christ and be empowered to share the Good News with others.

It is crucial to strike a balance between the study of Scripture and active participation in the Church's worship and sacramental life. By engaging with both aspects of our faith, we can experience the fullness of Christ's presence and be better equipped to live out our calling as His disciples

"While Christ converses, their souls were on fire; such was the power of the words He spoke to them."

 - St. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Matthew

Embracing the Lessons of the Road to Emmaus

As we continue our faith journey, let us strive to emulate the disciples' experience on the road to Emmaus by immersing ourselves in Scripture, participating in the worship of the Church, and partaking of the Eucharist. In doing so, 

we will draw closer to Christ, experience the burning of our hearts, and be equipped to share the Good News with those around us. This balanced approach to our faith will not only deepen our relationship with Christ but also help us become more effective ambassadors of His love and grace in the world.

"Just as the disciples at Emmaus recognized the Lord through the breaking of bread, so too are we to recognize Him in the fellowship of believers and the celebration of the Eucharist."

Furthermore, let us remember the importance of sharing our encounters with the risen Christ with others. In a world that is often filled with confusion and despair, our testimonies can serve as powerful tools to spread hope, love, and the saving message of the Gospel. As we testify to the transformative power of Christ in our lives, we can encourage others to seek Him and experience the life-changing impact of His love.

The road to Emmaus story offers us a beautiful and powerful reminder of the importance of Scripture, the Eucharist, and Christian fellowship in our faith journey. By immersing ourselves in the Word of God and actively participating in the worship of the Church, we can experience the presence of Christ in our lives and grow in our relationship with Him.

"When we gather together to listen to the Word of God, we experience the same joy as the disciples on the road to Emmaus, for Christ Himself speaks to us through the Scriptures." - St. Basil the Great, On the Holy Spirit

Let us take inspiration from the disciples' encounter with the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus and continue to seek Him in every aspect of our faith journey. In doing so, we can experience the burning of our hearts as we grow closer to Christ and be equipped to share His love and grace with the world around us.

The Road to Emmaus: Encountering the Risen Christ through Scripture and the Eucharist

In the stillness of this evening, I was granted an uncommon respite from the demands of parenthood. As I tucked my daughter into bed and my wife attended to her work, I found myself enveloped in a serene quiet, interrupted only by the gentle presence of our two beloved canine companions. In this moment of solitude, I began to meditate on the sublime beauty and profound significance of the Psalms in my life, as they have steadily served as a fount of solace and guidance.

As I sat in contemplation, I found myself drawn to a Psalm that has long held a cherished place in my prayer life - the Sunset Psalm, Psalm 104 (103 in the Septuagint). In the Orthodox Church, this Psalm is recited during every Vespers (evening prayer), and I often find myself whispering these words, either audibly or in the quiet of my heart, on many an evening. The Psalms possess a remarkable ability to ingrain themselves into our memory and our souls, always standing ready to offer comfort and wisdom like a steadfast companion.

Throughout my spiritual journey, I have discovered that different Psalms resonate with me in distinct emotional states and life circumstances. For instance, upon awakening, I recite Psalm 103 (102 LXX); when besieged by stress, I turn to Psalm 143; and during moments of despair or repentance, Psalm 51 (50 LXX) provides solace. In times of gratitude, Psalm 138 (137 LXX) assists me in articulating my thankfulness. While this list could continue indefinitely, these examples serve to illustrate the profound impact the Psalms have on my spiritual odyssey.

"The Psalms teach us how to pray and how to offer up our supplications to the Lord.” - St. Isaac of Syria

As I journeyed across the Bosphorus and Tiber, immersing myself in the liturgical life of my new home within the Anglican Tradition, I discovered familiarity in the deep commitment to the Psalms as a central pillar of prayer. The presence of the entire Psalter in the Book of Common Prayer filled me with joy, as it is read through in its entirety each month during Morning and Evening prayers.

The practice of reading through the Psalter has long been a part of the liturgical life of the Church. St. Benedict of Nursia considered the Psalms the very core of the Divine Office, organizing the Psalter in such a way that Benedictine monks would recite all 150 Psalms within a week. This tradition is upheld in the Orthodox*, Catholic, and Anglican Churches through the use of the Anglican Breviary.

In the monumental task of creating the Book of Common Prayer, Thomas Cranmer recognized the challenge faced by both monastics and laypeople in praying the full daily office. Thus, he simplified the seven hours of daily prayer into Morning and Evening prayers, crafting an approachable daily prayer cycle for all the faithful. Through the practice of Morning and Evening prayers, we read the Psalms in their entirety each month, not to mention the Psalms interspersed throughout the prayers, Eucharist service, and other liturgical offerings.

"By singing the Psalms, we join our voices with the angels and the saints who have gone before us.” - St. Jerome

The Psalter, the collection of Psalms, has served as a prayer book for the Church since its earliest days. When the Apostles prayed the hours in Acts (10:3, 9; 15:25), they prayed the Psalms. St. John Chrysostom asserts that, “By praying the Psalms, we chant the very words which Christ used, and we conform our hearts to His." Jesus quotes five Psalms throughout the Gospels of Sts. Matthew and John, demonstrating the closeness of the Psalms to His own heart, even as He cried out Psalm 22 on the cross (Matthew 27:46).

"In the Psalms, we find the very heart of Christian prayer." - St. Bonaventure

The Psalms offer a wealth of beauty to us as Christians, providing us with the words to pray when we may struggle to articulate our own thoughts, connecting us to the countless faithful men and women who have gone before us, and instructing us in the art of prayer. As Richard Hooker so eloquently stated, "The Psalms are the very heart and soul of devotion, as they teach us how to pray and how to lift up our hearts to God.”

I recently purchased a scripture journal of the Book of Psalms. As I read through the Psalter, I've been taking notes, reflecting, and meditating on them during my prayers this Lenten season. I'm finding something new in many of the Psalms and drawing closer to Christ.

In our quiet moments of reflection, let us turn to the Psalms as a source of solace, wisdom, and spiritual nourishment. By engaging with this ancient and sacred collection of prayers, we forge a connection not only with the divine but also with the innumerable generations of believers who have found comfort and guidance in the Psalms. In this way, we participate in a timeless and unbroken tradition of prayer, joining our voices with the chorus of saints, angels, and fellow seekers who have discovered the transformative power of the Psalter.


* During Lent, the Orthodox Church prays through the Psalms twice a week.

Embracing the Psalms: A Journey Through Timeless Prayer and Spiritual Connection

This article was originally presented by Dr. Robert Crouse for the Prayer Book Society of Canada, Nova Scotia/Prince Edward Island Branch Advent 2002 Institute, held at St. George’s Round Church, November 30, 2002.

Anglican spirituality is essentially liturgical: it is a way of spiritual life founded in worship and fulfilled in worship; a spiritual life shaped by the word of God mediated to us in the cycles of the liturgical year. It is that liturgical pattern of proclaiming the Word of God, day by day, week by week, year by year, which has shaped the mind and heart of Anglican Christianity. And that pattern has remained substantially unchanged for more than a millennium, up until our own generation.

If you consider, for instance, the selection of Epistle and Gospel lessons for the Sundays in Advent, as they appear in the Book of Common Prayer, you will find that they are precisely those appointed in the Sarum Missal of the medieval Church of England, and are in fact the same as those prescribed in the 

, which goes back to the Fifth Century. The only change has been Archbishop Cramner’s addition, in 1549, of a few verses to the beginning of the Epistle lesson and the end of the Gospel lesson for the first Sunday in Advent. Apart from the slight lengthening of those two lessons, the Advent lectionary remains unchanged since early Christian times.

What we have in that series is not a random selection of readings, but a coherent series of texts, in which Epistle and Gospel lessons interpret and supplement each other, and in which there is a continuous, logical development of teachings from one week to the next. Each set of texts builds upon the thought of the preceding set, and points ahead to the one that follows.

Our Anglican Reformers saw no need to alter that ancient pattern; they insisted only that it be better understood by all the faithful: read, marked, learned and inwardly digested; that it be more deeply understood and more perfectly obeyed, that by patience and comfort of God’s Holy Word, we might all embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope which is ours in Christ Jesus. Anglican spiritual nurture is basically a matter of hearing that proclamation, following that pattern, year after year, understanding perhaps a bit more each time, and each time conforming our lives a bit more closely to its truth.

Because our spiritual life is basically liturgical, because it is formed and shaped and sustained by that pattern of proclamation of God’s Word, it makes little sense, I think, to try to consider it abstractly, as though spiritual life were an activity somehow off by itself. The problem is rather to see and understand the spiritual dimensions of the Church’s liturgical proclamation week by week, and season by season, throughout the year. And therefore, as we prepare for Advent (as we prepare, that is to say, for preparation!), it seems to me that our best course is to try to prepare ourselves to understand more deeply the spiritual dimensions of the Advent lessons.

The Advent season is multi-dimensional. It looks backward in time to the coming of the Son of God as the Infant of Bethlehem two thousand years ago; it looks forward to the end of time, to the consummation of history in the coming of the Son of God as Judge. But there is yet another dimension of the most vital importance for our spiritual life: Advent is about God’s coming now, and our Advent lessons encourage our hope and expectation of his presence in our life here and now.

St. Thomas Aquinas, in the Prologue of his commentary on Isaiah, speaks of these three dimensions of Advent: the coming of the Son of God 

: in the flesh, historically; his coming 

: at the judgement, at the end and as the end of history. Paramount in our Advent lessons is that second dimension: Christ’s Advent 

, the present coming of the Word of God in our souls by grace. If you were to look at the lessons from that standpoint, you would notice how in each case the Epistle lesson underlines the present reference of the Gospel lesson.

This point can be illustrated with reference to the lessons for the First Sunday in Advent. The Gospel lesson recounts as historical incident the coming of Jesus to Jerusalem and his cleansing of the Temple. But the historical reference is broader than that: the Kingdom of Israel is God’s city and his Temple; he comes to claim the throne of David, and his coming is a judgment upon that Temple, both immediately and ultimately. Thus the Gospel speaks of Christ’s Advent 

. But on another level, the Temple of God’s presence in the human soul, and Christ, the Word of God, comes to the soul to awaken it from its futile dreams and purify its desire. It is that dimension of the Gospel lesson that the Epistle lesson draws out: “Knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep.” The Word of God approaches, “the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light…put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof. This, you see, is Christ’s Advent 

I suggest we consider the themes of the four Advent Sundays in a three-dimensional way. The themes are there:

Gospel: Mtt. 21.1: Jesus arouses Jerusalem and Cleanses the Temple
Epistle: Rom. 13.8: The Soul (God’s Temple) is to be awakened and cleansed of works of darkness, and armed with light.

Gospel: Lk. 21.25: Heaven and earth pass away, but the Word of God endures.
Epistle: Rom. 15.4: The Word of God in the believing soul is the ground of patience, comfort and hope.

Gospel: Mtt. 11.2: John the Baptist in prison, the prophetic messenger.
Epistle: 1 Cor. 4.1: The Christian soul as faithful steward of the revealed mysteries.

Recognition of the Word and Rejoicing in His Coming


Gospel: John 1.19: Behold the Lamb of God.
Epistle: Phil. 4.4: Rejoicing, thanksgiving and peace in heart and mind.

Advent is the proclamation of God’s three-fold coming: 

. And notice how those three dimensions are connected: Christ’s coming in the flesh, historically, and his atoning work, is the basis of his coming to our souls in grace; and his coming in judgement is nothing other than the summation of all his comings in grace and what we have made of them. “This is the judgement, that light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light…” (Jn. 3.19) And so this season urges us to wake up, to cast off darkness and clothe ourselves in light.

As Austin Farrer puts it, “Advent brings Christmas, judgement runs out into mercy. For the God who saves us and the God who judges us is one God…what judges us is what redeems us, the love of God…But while love thus judges us by being what it is, the same love redeems us by effecting what it does. Love shares flesh and blood with us in this present world, that the eyes which look us through at last may find in us a better substance than our vanity.” (

Advent Meditations on the Book of Common Prayer

TL:DR- Doctrine matters. It’s not possible to truly be one with diverse teachings. This is why we have creeds - to preserve the faith delivered once and for all - the faith handed to the Apostles by Christ and preserved unconquered by the Holy Spirit’s operation in the Church.

When Jesus asked this question to the Apostle Peter nearly 2,000 years ago, he asked a question that would need to be answered by each and every person who would come in contact with the Gospel. As Christianity spread, and the number of those who professed a faith in Christ grew, the number of interpretations of that question also grew, some times to the detriment of believers.

Creed comes from the Latin word credo meaning “to believe.” I know for many Protestants, the term Creed is far too restrictive and formal, so they’ve developed their own statements of belief or confession of faith; despite what it may be called, it is ultimately a Creed. For the Orthodox Church, no Creed is more widely expressed than the Nicene Creed (sometimes called the Nicene-Constantinople Creed).

Creeds are not unique to Christianity; Judaism professes the Shema Yisrael (“Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One” Deuteronomy 6:4) and Islam professes their creed, the shahada which says, “There is no god but God; Muhammad is the messenger of God.”

In the early Church, there were simple creeds that addressed the problems that faced the various Churches. A great example is what is referred to as the Pre-Pauline Creed of 1 Corinthians 15:3-7 which says,

For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. (English Standard Version).

It’s called the Pre-Pauline Creed because it is a creed that Paul is obviously quoting, which existed before he was converted as we see from his statement, “which I also received” in verse 3.

St. Paul again quotes part of an early creed when he writes to St. Timothy 3:16, ”

We confess, is the mystery of godliness: He was manifested in the flesh, vindicated by the Spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among the nations, believed on in the world, taken up in glory.

All of these are a continual development of the Church answering Christ’s question, “

Just as the different New Testament communities developed creeds to ensure safe guards around correct teaching, the Early Church had issues that arose and they too needed to define doctrine. The most well known Creed in Christendom is the Nicene Creed. In the fourth century, a doctrine was spreading that denied Christ’s divine nature called Arianism. This doctrine threatened the sound Christian doctrine and our understanding of who Christ is. The leaders of the Church came together in the city of Nicea and all 318 successors to the Apostles unanimously agreed on a formula to articulate the person of Christ. This formula became the Nicene Creed. The faithful members of the Church affirm this belief regularly to safe guard against false teaching. The beauty of the Creed is best explained by the late Yale professor, Dr. Jaroslav Pelikan who said, ”

The singing of the creed is a very important and cherished way of indicating a universality of the faith across not only space but time — to know that in the Philippines this morning, this was the creed that was recited and to know that the Emperor Justinian in the sixth century and my late father and grandfather all affirmed this, all of us together.

There’s this idea of unity between several strains of Christianity that exists outside of doctrine. It seems to me that there’s laissez-faire attitude towards doctrine and belief, that an understanding of the nature of God, man, salvation, etc is of less importance than a semblance of unity.

Sadly, I’ve heard several Christians say they are Christians because of a unique experience or a feeling they get. I’m not going to say that there’s no place for personal feelings or experience within Christianity, but instead that it isn’t all we need. Those of other faiths heavily draw on the emotions and personal experiences. Take for examples the Latter-Day Saint (Mormon) missionaries. When they begin visiting with non-LDS about the LDS Church, they cite from their Doctrine & Covenants (one of their books of scripture along with the Bible, Book of Mormon and Articles of Faith) and claim Christ said ”But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” (D&C 9:8) When talking to someone who joins the LDS church, they will confirm the burning in the bosom as their proof of faith. When faith and truth are based primarily on experience, how does one question the validity of something like this? People join the LDS church despite the fact that they teach things outside of the Nicene Creed and historical Christian teachings, like God was once a man who was elevated to God. When no emphasis exists on truth and correct doctrine, doors like this are left wide open.

If people are taught to base their religious belief solely on emotional responses, how can they be ”

prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope

” found in the Gospel (1 Peter 3:15)? The Apostles never appeared to anyone and discussed how they were made to feel by an encounter, but instead, they boldly and firmly proclaimed the teachings of Jesus Christ and the revelations of the Prophets.

Even in the New Testament there were those who changed the teachings delivered by the Apostles and, as St. Paul taught, ”

” (Galatians 5:9). The Epistles of St. John were written in large part to encourage the faithful to remain steadfast in right doctrine and not to follow false teachers.

That’s why the New Testament warns us to, ”

watch out for those who cause divisions and create obstacles contrary to the doctrine that you have been taught

be led away by diverse and strange teachings

” (Romans 16:17; Hebrews 13:9). Instead, we are encouraged to ”

keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers

The successors to the Apostles took the teachings and traditions handed to them and passed them to their successors and preserved them. That’s the goal of a creed - to give the faithful within the community a set of boundaries of safe doctrine.

After all, Christ called us all to be one, right?

In short, it’s not possible to truly be one with diverse teachings. ”

For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths

” (2 Timothy 4:3-4). The creeds give us formulas of doctrine that explain what we believe.

I like what the Orthodoxy & Heterodoxy blog has to say on the matter:

Theology is not just life and death, but eternal life and death. We have to get it right not just so we can belong to the right churchy club, but so we can grab hold of sanity in an insane world, so we can seek out the profound while surrounded by triviality, so we can pursue beauty in the midst of ugliness…Doctrine includes not just dogma, but every teaching and true tradition pertaining to union with the Holy Trinity—worship, asceticism, hierarchy, canonical tradition, and so forth. Doctrine is what we are taught and what we teach.

If we are not committed to getting that right, what are we committed to?

This is why we have creeds - to preserve the faith delivered once and for all - the faith handed to the Apostles by Christ and preserved unconquered by the Holy Spirit’s operation in the Church.

We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen.
We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made.
For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man.
For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.
We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father.
With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets.We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

This I Believe - Creeds in Christianity

I was on involved in an online dialogue about atonement and redemption when the theory of Penal Substitutionary Atonement (PSA) came up. The Orthodox Church was challenged by a proponent of PSA for not using the Bible to defend its stance on atonement and opposition to PSA. I started doing some thinking and reading and came to a few conclusions:

You can’t look at the theory on its own without its historical context.

Contrary to what those of the Reformed tradition are taught, the Bible doesn’t make a case for PSA; instead, cultural influence helps one read it into the Bible.

Penal substitutionary atonement is problematic when looking at it in light of the Old Testament, Trinitarian doctrine, and Jewish thought.

I'm going to preface, penal substitutionary atonement is a uniquely Protestant concept; you won't find it in Orthodox or Catholic circles. I'm not dismissing all ideas of atonement, merely PSA. Okay, now that that's clear, let's look at what it is. Penal substitution atonement teaches that in order for God to forgive, His wrath must be appeased and His honor restored.

Before jumping into some issues with PSA, let's look at its origin. If the Apostles taught PSA they did a really poor job since none of their successors talked about it before the Reformation . Okay, maybe that's a bit disingenuous since Anselm of Canterbury (11th century) laid the framework.

Anselm of Canterbury proposed a substitutionary atonement model, albeit not a fully developed theory. According to Anselm's 

, sin is not doing God's will, which then "steals" His honor. As humans we are thus in debt to God and we owe him back the honor we stole by sinning. This honor must be appeased. For Anselm, "because God is infinite, any wound to his honor caused by the sins of Man must also be infinite, and the only way infinite satisfaction for these sins can be granted on behalf of man is by the voluntary death of Jesus, who is both God and Man."

"If God is not paid the honor due Him, He is dishonored, having His honor taken from him. God’s honor is stolen by through sin. However, as long as he does not repay what he has stolen, he remains guilty. But it is not enough for him merely to repay what has been stolen; rather, because of the wrong which has been inflicted, he ought to repay more than he has stolen. For example, if someone who injures another's health restores it, his doing so is insufficient payment unless he also gives some compensation for the painful wrong that was inflicted. Similarly, he who violates another's honor does not sufficiently repay this honor unless, in proportion to the injury caused by the dishonoring, he makes some restitution which is acceptable to the one whom he dishonored. We must also note that when someone repays what he has stolen, he ought to return that which could not be exacted from him had he not stolen what belonged to another. Accordingly, then, everyone who sins is obliged to repay to God the honor which he has stolen. This [repayment of stolen honor] constitutes the satisfaction which every sinner is obliged to make to God... To forgive sin in this manner is identical with not punishing it. Now, in the absence of satisfaction, to order sin rightly is only to punish it; therefore, if sin is not punished, something disordered is forgiven... Therefore, it is not fitting that God should forgive sin that goes thus unpunished

Punishment is a key concept to Anselm, but why? Anselm is often criticized for deriving his doctrine of salvation from Germanic tribal law. Anselm's idea of satisfaction draws from the idea that in Germanic clans, atonement for grievances must be made. Within their framework it is possible for one person to stand in for another. So, in his mind, Anselm sees the need for someone to be punished for sin and that makes up his framework of Christ's death. It's important to note that in Anselm, there isn't the concept that the Father punished Christ, it wasn't the suffering of the divine wrath, but that God was satisfied by Christ's punishment. The Father doesn't punish Christ, and Christ bears no punishment. So we see in the 11th century a substitutionary atonement but not penal substitutionary atonement.

Just to point out, that's over 1,000 years after Christ before we see the roots of PSA.

The Reformers, as we know, claimed they were recovering the truth of the Gospel to align their doctrine with the New Testament and the earliest Christians. Believing the Middle Ages had corrupted Christianity, the Reformers looked to redefine many of the doctrines of the Church. Luther goes so far as to say that Christ becomes the greatest and only sinner on earth while on the cross. Luther adopted parts of Anselm's ideas but with more of a dichotomy or conflict between the wrath of God and the love of God.

We see a very real development of penal substitutionary atonement theory in John Calvin. Calvin took Anselm's groundwork and expanded in an even more legalistic way. He applied his understanding of criminal law to the equation - man is a criminal and must be punished by God, who is angered by sin. The Son of God is sent to earth to bear the immense wrath of the God of all for us so that God may then be merciful. Calvin says things like "God, then, must of necessity look upon us in the person of His own Son, or else he is bound to hate us and abhor us," "For since by nature we are unclean, and utterly rejected and cursed by God," and talks about the "hatred between him and us." These concepts are foreign to us in the East and yet critical to penal substitutionary atonement. The Early Church had no concept of God imputing the guilt of our sins to Christ, and he, in our place, bearing the punishment we deserve. Christ making payment for our sins, which satisfies the wrath and the righteousness of God so that He could forgive sinners without compromising his holiness, is a late addition to Christian through.

One of the most well-known verses in the New Testament to my faith group growing up was Romans 3:23-26. It's part of the "Road to Romans" evangelism track. It's interesting to read it while contemplating penal atonement - nowhere does it say Christ is punished in our place (we'll tackle the word "propitiation" in just a minute). The same is true for the verses cited in favor of penal substitution - nowhere do they say Christ was a substitution, that Christ was punished by the Father, or that God's wrath had to be sated by Christ.

Because of the fall, our ability to remain in union with God was damaged.

Now I want to be clear here - I have not been discussing atonement in general, but the specific doctrine of penal atonement substitution - the idea that the Father unleashed His wrath on Christ on the cross to satisfy His need for blood for forgiveness. God needed someone his equal in rank to satisfy the breaking of the law in order for justice to be fulfilled. The Father pours out His wrath on Christ in order to satisfy the offenses against His Law since Adam. It is this that I find preposterous, not the idea that Christ does atone for us. I have to ask: why would a good, loving God have to take out His wrath on His creation?

Old Testament sacrifices don't align with a penal substitution - the animals that were sacrificed were offered as an atonement, not to become a substitute and take punishment, but became sacred and were eaten. Let's look at the Passover lamb and Christ - we see a correlation throughout the New Testament of Christ to the Passover lamb of Exodus 12 (John 1:29, 1 Peter 1:19, Revelation 5 to name just a few). The Passover lamb wasn't a sacrifice of substitution for sin, but instead, it identified those in the homes with the blood marking the doorposts were part of the Chosen People. If the lamb had "become sin," it would have been unclean; the Israelites definitely would not have eaten the lamb as they were instructed to do in Exodus 12:6.

The Early Church saw Christ as the Passover lamb as we see in John 1:29, 1 Corinthians 5:7, Revelation 13:8 and the Book of Hebrews makes extensive references to Christ’s sacrifice when speaking of His priesthood. Just as the Passover lamb becomes a meal, so does the crucified Christ in the Eucharist. The Passover lamb is sacrificed and its blood marks the doorposts of Israel as, 

The lamb of Passover is slain and the doorposts of Israel marked with his blood as a means of defeating the “destroyer,” who kills the firstborn of Egypt. This destruction of Egypt (along with the drowning in the Red Sea) are all God’s “getting glory” over Pharoah. It is the proper context for understanding Christ’s description of His death as His glorification.

It’s not just the Passover lamb that doesn’t align with penal substitutionary atonement in the Old Testament, but the sin offerings as well. The sin offerings are implemented in Leviticus, the animals are sacrificed to atone for sin, not to die so that the person offering could live. The animal didn't have sin placed on it or become sin. The scapegoat, however, would symbolically bear the sins of the people, and it was sent out from the city not sacrificed. The one-time sins are placed on the animal being offered; it isn't killed (see Leviticus 16:10).

PSA runs counter to the Scriptures. Death isn't a punishment but a consequence of Adam's sin. Genesis 2:17 doesn't say that God will kill Adam when he eats the fruit, that he'll be punished by God, but that he will die. It's a result of his action rather than a punishment inflicted by God. When humanity sinned, death came into the world. It wasn't God's punishment but a consequence.

, "To walk away from God (i.e., to sin) is by definition, death. Death is the realm of "Not God." Likewise, if I pull the plug on my own life support system, the result is death. No one else is killing me. If I jump off the roof, after being warned by my mother not to, and I end up breaking my leg, does that mean that my mother broke my leg? No, that was simply the result of my own choice. Christ gave Himself up to death. If death is an active punishment from God, then Christ was punished by His Father (per penal substitution). But if death is the result of sin, then it is an outside enemy and not God's own wrath." Plus, Jeremiah 31:2-30, Ezekial 18:20, and Deuteronomy 24:16 tell us that a person is put to death for his own sin and that the wickedness of the wicked is upon himself. That isn't the case in penal substitution.

Looking at the Law, a person who murdered couldn’t sacrifice an animal to atone for it. He must pay. It’s also important to note that verses like Deuteronomy 24:16, 2 Kings 14:6, 2 Chronicles/4 Kings 25:4, and Ezekiel 18:19-20 make a strong case against the idea of substitutionary punishments.

PSA removes unconditional love from God and God doesn't actually forgive. God can't love us unless He has an outlet for his wrath. Again from Renault, "His "self-giving" love is only made possible by His "self-satisfying" justice." If His love is conditional on his wrath being appeased, God also doesn't forgive us - unlike the parable of the servant forgiven his debt or the prodigal Son, God doesn't welcome us back or forgive us, but instead requires someone else to pay the debt, contrary to how Christ explains the love of the Father for us. Plus, the Father is changed - He is angry with us, Christ bares his wrath, and now He loves us like he loves Christ - we aren't forgiven, God is merely appeased!

PSA also renders Christ's sacrifice imperfect. God's wrath remains, but only on some. Christ's sacrifice for all of humanity is contingent. God is only appeased for some, not all. This is remedied in Calvinism by the belief that God foreknew his elect and sent Christ to pay for their sins.

We have the question of what exactly is meant by salvation. In the Bible, salvation is so much more than avoiding eternal punishment like liberation from bondage (Exodus 14:30, 15:2, Psalms 106:21), return from exile (Isaiah 45:17), and rescue from danger (Psalms 27:1, 51:12, 65:5, 69:2).

Penal substitution belittles salvation to merely a transactional event on the cross, a legal barter made by Jesus for us, not a transformational redemption and largely ignores the resurrection. Sin is still a part of our lives, but we are no longer defined by it, but by grace and love (Romans 6). Instead, we are transformed by Christ's death and resurrection. Sin is still a part of our lives and our world, but we are no longer defined by it, but by grace (Romans 6). We are now agents of God's Kingdom, here and now, not some distant faraway concept (1 Corinthians 13:12).

This becomes problematic in the light of the Trinity when we look at Christ on the cross. The Father pours out his wrath on the Son. The Father has wrath, and for his need for justice, so He must punish. The Son, on the cross, asks for forgiveness, making a conflict in the divine will - punishment versus forgiveness. Taking it to the furthest logical conclusion puts the Son and the Father at odds, creating a divide within the indivisible Trinity. It also calls to question Christ's place in the Godhead. Shouldn't Christ's holiness also be offended? Why would the Father need appeasement and not Christ or the Holy Spirit?

And if God the Father is truly punishing Christ, that is also sowing very real division within the Trinity. If the Father inflicts torture on the Son, how can the perfect love and unity of the Trinity survive?

I am an imperfect human. I am an imperfect father. I have imperfect love. Yet I can say without question that I do not need to see my daughter forced to suffer to forgive her. I don't need her to be punished. I don't need anyone else to either. When she makes a poor choice and disobeys me, I don't become wrathful against her and need to see her punished to be willing to forgive her, much less to love her again. If, in my imperfect love, I don't become overwhelmed by wrath and anger, demanding justice, how can I view God, who is beyond love, in that light?

Isaiah 53 is a paramount prophecy to defenders of penal substitutionary theory, yet it is often taken out of context. Bold claim, I know, but hear me out. No where in Isaiah does it say that the Father is punishing Christ. Actually, verse 4 says that despite the fact he bears our griefs and sorrows “yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.” Let’s reword that - humanity’s perception is that He is afflicted by God, not that God has smitten Him. Another key passage is verse 5 which tells us “by His stripes we are healed,” not “by His stripes the Father is appeased.” Let’s look at a literal translation from the Septuagint:

“The one our sins bore and on account of us he was grieved. And we considered him to be a misery, and for calamity by God, and for ill-treatment. But he was wounded because of our sins and was made infirm on account of our lawless deeds.” One should read Isaiah as a prophecy of Christ’s healing work, viewing Christ’s work as more encompassing than the narrow focus PSA allocates it to.

The Greek word translated to "atonement" in the Bible is "

" (ιλαστηριον). In Romans 3:23-25 we read "...for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation (ιλαστηριον) by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness because, in his divine forbearance, he had passed over former sins." The word here is a Greek word, so a literal translation can be tricky. One translation is the word propitiation, which implies an act of appeasing or making God happy to either gain favor or avoid retribution.

 as propitiation (literally: "to make favorable," with the implication of placating or appeasing the deity), then the entire Western notion of substitutionary atonement fits well." But, if one uses the word expiation, which implies a cleansing and removal of sin, this fits less into the penal substitutionary atonement model. This turns the death and resurrection of Christ around - no longer is Christ trying to appease an angry God the Father who has wrath that must be satisfied, instead Christ is lovingly redeeming and restoring humanity. Let's also consider that 

 is used in the Septuagint to mean the "mercy seat" or "thing that atones." It also appears again in Hebrews 9:5 as the mercy seat. Given that context to 

, it makes more sense to that Christ's self-sacrifice was an act for the removal of our sins instead of an act to appease or pacify an angry Father, so He can forgive.

We know that death entered the world through sin and is something that every living thing on earth is subject to. In Christ's Incarnation, He reunited God and man in a way that only the Eternal Logos, being fully God and taking on humanity. Through His death, Christ defeated our enemy, death, and restored the human race (2 Timothy 1:10 and 1 Corinthians 15:55-57). We share in Christ's death and resurrection (Romans 6:8-14; 7:6) and, through Christ's atonement we've been made clean and freed from sin (Ephesians 1:7; John 1:7), reuniting us to God and making us partakers of the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4).

Because of sins, we were held captive; the righteous dead were filing into hades. Christ came to set them free. Jesus had to go into the realm of death - that meant becoming a human, entering the world through a woman, living an earthly life, and then allowing himself to be killed. We see him on the cross, not like he's writhing in agony, but looking more like a hero. He maintains a heroic status in Orthodoxy; we look upon him as our Redeemer, Savior, Deliverer, who, with His boldness, and his power, and his compassion, suffered, and died, and went into hades in order to set us free. The image of the resurrection looks different than European art. In our iconography, Christ is standing on the broken gates of hell, lifting Adam and Eve out of hades.

that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the Devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong bondage.

Christ's work is redemptive. Christ's sacrifice was restorative. Christ brings God to man, as only one who is God and man can, bridging the gap, conquering death, and restoring us to life. This is the good news in the Scriptures. This is what has been taught by the Church since Pentecost.

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