Eschatological Justice and the Cross: Violence and 

Penal Substitution 

 

Boersma, Hans 

 

ABSTRACT: Recent objections to penal substitutionary views of the atonement argue that they 

valorize violence. This essay argues that, to the contrary, penal substitution may be viewed as a 

warrant of eschatological justice that offers hope both to victims and perpetrators of violence. A 

rejection of all penal justice would contribute to the cycle of violence. Penal justice is a last resort 

for the sake of God's future eschatological justice. Christ's voluntary self-sacrifice also entails that 

God takes the punishment for sin upon himself, thus offering the hope of eschatological justice to 

all. 

That the cross is the church's central symbol is unlikely to be disputed. Whether this symbol is positive or 

negative, however, is a question that tends to generate more discussion. To many Christians, the cross is the 

primary symbol that brings hope for the forgiveness of sins and so for the possibility of new life: Christ's 

death on the cross means that one's sins have been dealt with and that God's forgiveness is forthcoming. 

Many have drawn such comfort from the symbol of the cross that they will find it hard to imagine that it 

could function in any other way. Others, however, point out that the cross has functioned in violent and 

oppressive ways throughout the history of the church: From Constantine's vision of the cross at the eve of 

the battle at the Milvian Bridge in the fourth century, to the crusades in the Middle Ages, to the 

conquistadors in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Christians have used the cross as an excuse for the 

use of military power, oppression, and other forms of violence. Indeed, many are asking whether the cross 

is perhaps an inherently violent and oppressive symbol, responsible for abuse and violence not only in the 

wider military and political realms but also in personal relationships and even in the intimacy of family life. 

The focus for apprehension about the cross is usually the idea that Jesus Christ suffered punishment for the 

sake of sinners. A number of feminist scholars, in particular, are of the opinion that the notion of the cross 

as a form of penal justice is problematic. In her recent book, Embracing Travail, Cynthia Crysdale, for 

instance, insists: 

Redemption comes to be understood (under Anselm's influence) as the requirement of a distant, omnipotent 

God for the satisfaction of his honor. God's mercy gets lost in the idealization of punishment and suffering, 

and God is seen as sadistic and bloodthirsty. Such a God and the acceptance of our deserved punishment 

become necessary in order for the message of salvation to mean anything.1 

Punishment on the cross, Crysdale asserts, implies a bloodthirsty God. She is not alone in this criticism of 

the Anselmian tradition's emphasis on penal substitution. Rita Nakashima Brock also criticizes traditional 

atonement models, saying, "Such doctrines of salvation reflect by analogy, I believe, images of the neglect 

of children or, even worse, child abuse, making it acceptable as divine behavior-cosmic child abuse, as it 

were."2 There appears to be a growing concern about an unholy alliance between penal substitution and 

violence.3 Critics object that penal substitution valorizes unjust violence at both the divine and the human 

level: God inflicts suffering, while humans are encouraged to accept it. If these objections can be sustained, 

penal substitution can hardly hold out hope of reconciliation and peace, either with God or among human 

beings. I am not convinced, however, that the objections are particularly persuasive. On the contrary, I will 

argue that we may look at divine penal substitution on the cross as an instance of eschatological justice that 

furthers peace and reconciliation and, as such, offers hope to both victims and perpetrators of violence.4 



I readily grant that not all methods of construing a theory of penal substitution are equally hopeful. It may 

well be that certain ways of understanding this theory have contributed to a judgmental mindset and even to 

violence. For example, when theories of penal substitution separate God's justice and mercy, perhaps even 

valorizing the former over the latter, the picture of a "bloodthirsty" God becomes understandable. Likewise, 

the designation of atonement as "satisfaction," focusing solely on divine wrath, obscures the all-

encompassing love of God. The counsel of Nietzsche's Zarathustra is certainly to the point: "Mistrust all in 

whom the impulse to punish is powerful. They are people of a low sort and stock; the hangman and the 

bloodhound look out of their faces. Mistrust all who talk much of their justice!"5 Finally, a penal 

substitution model that construes the punishment of Jesus as inflicted by the Father on an innocent third 

party cannot avoid charges of abusive violence and injustice. It is fair to say that popular explanations of 

the atonement have at times fallen prey to such unfortunate misconceptions, and the church needs to be 

vigilant that it does not become the cause or the occasion of abusive violence.6 When arguing that penal 

substitution offers hope, I am saying that this is the case only for the theory as I am outlining it in this 

essay. 

CRIME, PUNISHMENT, AND JUSTICE 

To begin, it may be helpful to make some general comments on the nature of punishment. First, 

punishment assumes an authority structure. If I punish someone, I must be in a legal position to do so; it is 

not enough simply for me to have the power to take away certain rights or to inflict a certain kind of injury. 

The same act may be called a punishment in one instance and a crime in another, depending on whether the 

act is performed with or without the legal authority to inflict punishment. In other words, there is a 

difference between crime and punishment. 

This distinction is significant for the topic under consideration. The gospel accounts inform us that Jesus 

died at the hands of Jewish and Roman authorities. This brings us into the realm of punishment rather than 

the realm of crime. Theologically speaking, penal substitution assumes that Jesus' crucifixion was not only 

a human punishment but also a divine punishment. Either way, whether considered from the historical or 

the theological perspective, the cross is a form of punishment enacted by an authority in a legal position to 

execute it. Penal substitution, therefore, takes us into the realm of punishment, not into the realm of crime. 

To justify violent crimes by appealing to divine penal justice thus involves a serious category mistake. 

Suffering as the result of crime is simply a different kind of suffering than Christ's suffering on the cross. 

The notions of crime and punishment are not the same, and human criminal behavior cannot properly be 

modeled on an understanding of the cross as penal substitution. To be sure, it is possible to imagine a 

person rationalizing forms of criminal violence by means of an appeal to the cross. It is also possible to 

imagine that people make such a link subconsciously. Nonetheless, when an individual draws wrong 

inferences from a penal theory of the atonement, the error lies not with the penal theory but with the person 

drawing the mistaken conclusion. 

Admittedly, the difference between crime and punishment does not legitimize just any punishment, merely 

because someone who is in a legal position to do so enacts it. Jacques Derrida reminds us of the important 

distinction between law and justice. The law never captures justice in its entirety, and justice always needs 

to do more than calculate mere statistical evidence. Some laws may be patently unjust, implying that some 

punishments may be entirely misplaced. The injustices of historical, positive laws mean that they are 

always subject to revision or deconstruction, whereas the notion of justice itself cannot be deconstructed. 

As Derrida puts it: 

The structure I am describing here is a structure in which law (droit) is essentially deconstructible . . . . The 

fact that law is deconstructible is not bad news. We may even see in this a stroke of luck for politics, for all 

historical progress. But the paradox that I'd like to submit for discussion is the following: it is this 

deconstructible structure of law (droit), or if you prefer of justice as droit, that also insures the possibility of 

deconstruction. Justice in itself, if such a thing exists, outside or beyond law, is not deconstructible. No 

more than deconstruction itself, if such a thing exists. Deconstruction is justice.7 



Justice does not blindly apply the law but looks at the particular situation and so comes to a particular 

decision. John D. Caputo rightly comments, therefore: "Whenever a legal system has been good, whenever 

it has been something more than a blind and flexible tyrant, whenever laws have protected the weak against 

the strong and prevented the winds of injustice from sweeping across the land, then the law has been 

deconstructible."8 

These Derridean reflections on justice help clarify questions concerning divine justice in connection with 

the cross. Is divine punishment on the cross a response to transgressions of a law that has little or no 

resemblance to eschatological justice? Is this punishment perhaps out of proportion to the transgression that 

it intends to penalize? Is substitution so out of joint with standards of justice that it obstructs messianic 

justice? In short, does the divine punishment of Christ on the cross serve or impede the coming of 

eschatological justice?9 The answers to these questions determine whether God condones arbitrary 

violence and whether the cross perpetuates human victimization. 

The notion of eschatological justice is also helpful because it allows us to consider questions of mercy and 

forgiveness in dealing with justice. If justice always means strict retribution ("an eye for an eye and a tooth 

for a tooth"), then little room is left for mercy and forgiveness. If, on the other hand, justice looks beyond 

historically constituted laws, then it is not primarily interested in an uncompromising enforcement of the 

law. The application of justice, in that case, will take considerations of a higher order into account. It seems 

obvious that strict retribution does not always encourage the overall well-being of the community. No 

judicial system prosecutes each and every violation of the law. Various social and economic considerations 

(financial costs of enforcement, the risk of crime going underground, personal extenuating circumstances, 

and so on) may lead to leniency in either enforcement of the law or punishment. 

Why, then, does God punish at all? Why does he not simply forgive? Can God not restore the divine-

human relationship without resorting to something that may strike us as offensive and unworthy of God? 

Similar questions are often asked in connection with the North American system of criminal justice: Why 

punitive justice?10 Is punishment really necessary if the purpose is ultimately eschatological justice and 

communal peace? Does punishment not stand in the way of such an eschatological vision? In light of the 

variety of views on the atonement, this question certainly has its place. If any and all divine punishment 

would be unjust and abusive in character, then penal substitution would obviously justify the fears of 

violence and perpetuation of suffering. How, specifically, does punishment in connection with human 

relationships serve the interests of messianic justice? 

Punishments can serve different goals: prevention, rehabilitation, deterrence, retribution, or some 

combination of these four. 

The first three purposes of punishment in some way or other have the effect of protecting society. Even 

though the rehabilitative purpose is primarily focused on the cure of the criminal, it also indirectly benefits 

society since, if the criminal is truly cured, society will not be attacked again. The retributive purpose of 

punishment is aimed at something greater than society, justice itself, and thus is independent of the good 

(or, for that matter, the evil) that is brought to others by the execution of the punishment.11 

Let us assume for a moment that we do away with all punishment. It seems to me that this would have 

profound consequences for both the victim and the perpetrator of the crime. It would do away not only with 

retribution (which aims at satisfying a perceived need for revenge, apart from considerations about the 

future well-being of the community), but also with the other three goals of punishment, all of which aim at 

eschatological justice. 

In terms of prevention and deterrence, an unequivocal rejection of punishment means, at the very least, that 

the external incentives to stop criminal behavior are being reduced. Why would people stop their criminal 

behavior unless they expected a legal penalty for engaging in that behavior? "Cheap grace," argues L. 

Gregory Jones, "denies any real need for deliverance from sin since it justifies the sin instead of the sinner. 

As such, cheap grace offers consolation without any change of life, without any sense of either dying or 



rising with Christ. Indeed, cheap grace does not require any embodiment ... ."12 Abolishing all external 

punishment eliminates a much-needed incentive for the perpetrator to stop the cycle of victimization and so 

removes the perpetrator's as well as the victim's hope of peace and justice. 

For the victim, a nonpenal understanding of justice carries a further consequence: There is no recourse for 

the offence. Regardless how little remorse an offender may show, the victim is forced to accept that society 

refuses to deal with the crime. The result may well be that "the world will remain forever awry, the blood 

of the innocent will eternally cry out to heaven."13 Even if the victim of violence is obligated to extend 

forgiveness, experience dictates that forgiveness is long and arduous, oftentimes not forthcoming at all. If it 

is to be adapted to real life, the judicial system needs to take into account the victim's difficulty in 

extending forgiveness to the perpetrator. The strong human propensity to harbor feelings of revenge is a 

reality in a sinful world: Where victimizing others is not punished, this omission may aggravate the damage 

done by the criminal, further diminishing prospects for reconciliation. Without punishment, it becomes 

more difficult to mend the tears in the social fabric and achieve justice.14 An entirely nonpenal 

understanding of justice is not just, simply because it does not serve eschatological justice. 

Interestingly, Old Testament law (without which we cannot comprehend our contemporary sense of justice) 

corroborates the observation that punishment may assist in reconciliation and in the flourishing of the 

community's justice. The Old Testament also has the peace and reconciliation of the covenant community 

as its ultimate concern. Judgment (mis pat) must accord with covenant faithfulness or righteousness (s^sup 

e^daqa).[5 Advocates of contemporary restorative justice initiatives rightly draw attention to the relational 

connotations of faithfulness and protection that are tied up with the concept of "righteousness."16 Hebrew 

law removes us far from the blindfolded Roman goddess, Justitia. Or, as Miroslav Volf puts it: "If Justitia 

is just, then Yahweh is patently unjust."17 Punishment in the Old Testament intends to restore severed 

relationships and, with this, victims' as well as perpetrators' hopes for peace and justice within the covenant 

community. 

It seems clear, therefore, that, under certain conditions, punishment can play a positive role. Rehabilitation, 

deterrence, and prevention may make punishment a helpful thing, Ultimately, the purpose of punishment is 

the community's well-being: The crime has affected the community's relationships, which need healing. 

Punishment can restore hope. To be sure, this apologia for punishment does not settle the question of when 

to punish. It dees not settle the question of the appropriate degree of punishment in particular situations. 

The answers to these questions will always depend on ad hoc decisions regarding particular laws and 

particular people in particular circumstances. 

MONOTHEISM, JUSTICE, AND PUNISHMENT 

We can now apply to justice and forgiveness some of our observations regarding the role of punishment. 

The positive effects of punishments apply not only within human relationships, but also within the divine-

human relationship. First, the threat of divine punishment may serve as a deterrent, inclining people to live 

more virtuous lives, Divine punishment may mitigate the cycle of violence and victimization, thereby 

offering hope to perpetrator and victim alike. Second, when crime victims are aware that God punishes the 

criminal, it may assist them in dealing with the consequences of the crime, It may persuade them not to take 

revenge but to "leave room for God's wrath" (Rom 12:19), knowing that the world will not remain awry 

forever. Again, this knowledge of God's Justice may help the victim come to terms with the injustice that 

has occurred and prevent the perpetrator from being victimized in revenge, thus breaking the cycle of crime 

and victimization. 

Of course, the hypothetical justifiability of some form of divine punishment does not mean that the specific 

punishment of Christ on the cross necessarily was appropriate; nor does it imply that the substitutionary 

character of this punishment is appropriate. This leads us, then, to the particularities of the law that led to 

Christ's death and to the historical circumstances surrounding it. Do the particular historical structures that 

enabled Christ's death and their theological appropriation as penal substitution offer hope of reconciliation 

for both victims and perpetrators? To answer this question, we need to look at the biblical narrative within 



which the death of Christ occurs. What law is applied in penal substitutionary atonement? And how is this 

law applied in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ? 

The "Shema" of Deuteronomy 6:4-5 is the heart of Jewish worship: "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, 

the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your 

strength." The particularities of Deuteronomic law all have their place in relationship to the confession of 

the Shema, so that transgression is to some degree a rejection of God, to whom the Israelites owe exclusive 

loyalty. 

This confession is also the ultimate standard of eschatological justice. Divine punishment thus is closely 

connected to the rejection of the covenant relationship between God and his people and of God as the only 

true God. If the Israelites consistently reject the Shema by worshipping idols, God will curse the people and 

inflict punishment on them: "But if your heart turns away and you are not obedient, and if you are drawn 

away to bow down to other gods and worship them, I declare to you this day that you will certainly be 

destroyed" (Deut 30:17-8). 

Not every transgression of the law would lead to punishment. According to Old Testament law, Israelites 

could atone for their sins by means of repentance and sacrifice, thereby restoring fellowship.18 The 

Deuteronomic law suggests, however, that Israel consistently rejected the very aim of repentance and 

sacrifice: restoration of, and growth in, its relationship with God. The book of Deuteronomy leads up to 

God's prediction of the rebellion of Israel, its rejection of the Shema, and thus to exile as the curse of the 

law.19 The books of Joshua through 2 Kings trace Israel's apostasy leading up to the exilic curse.20 

Significantly, exile is God's last option. God resorts to this climactic punishment only when it becomes 

clear that Israel as a nation has consistently refused to repent and so to obtain forgiveness from God. In 

other words, exile as punishment for sin salvages monotheistic worship as the very heart of the law. This 

punishment serves justice: the worship of God, which alone constitutes complete justice. Justice, peace, and 

worship of the only true God are, at least in the Deuteronomic view, eschatological. 

Questions about the compatibility of divine forgiveness and punishment thus lead us deeper into the 

biblical narrative. It is certainly true that God would rather forgive than punish, often does forgive rather 

than punish, and that not every transgression necessitates divine punishment. But the biblical narrative 

highlights Israel's consistent rejection of God's plans for justice. Exile seeks to subvert this constant pattern. 

Israel's lack of repentance, in the end, leads to divine punishment only after Israel has consistently rejected 

its confession of monotheism. 

PENAL JUSTICE AND RECAPITULATION 

Punishment is eminently understandable if the very fabric of justice is at stake and if the punishment serves 

to advance this justice. This is exactly the role of the punishment of exile according to the biblical 

narrative. The Old Testament never viewed exile as the final act of abandonment. The exile served the 

restoration of community. Both Deuteronomy (30:1-10) and the prophets (Jer 31:31-4; Ezek 36:26-7) 

looked forward to a new covenant in which the relationship with God would once again be restored. 

Pauline theology proceeds on the assumption that not only is the exile a consequence of Israel's rejection of 

God, but that, at least in principle, the restoration of Israel also has occurred. Paul refers to the exilic curse 

of Deuteronomy as "the curse of the law" (Gal 3:13; compare Deut 27:26).21 According to some recent 

interpretations of Paul, Jesus recapitulated Israel's history, leading up to its exile (as the Deuteronomic 

curse).22 The return from this exile ultimately could be attained only by means of a resurrection from the 

dead, an Adamic re-creation (Ezek 37:1-14). In Christ's resurrection, Israel as a whole experiences return 

from exile and the human race-at least in principle-experiences its restoration and re-creation (2 Cor 5:17). 

This narrative implies penal substitution-but substitution of a particular kind, one more or less in line with 

the theology of Irenaeus (c.130-c.200 AD). In his struggle against gnosticism, Irenaeus takes the 

incarnation of the Word seriously. Only if the Word has truly become flesh is it possible for humans to be 



redeemed and taken up into the divine life: "For in what way could we be partakers of the adoption of 

sons," Irenaeus asks, "unless we had received from Him through the Son that fellowship which refers to 

Himself, unless His Word, having been made flesh, had entered into communion with us?"23 The 

incarnation, in Irenaeus's view, ultimately leads to the vision of God and thus to fellowship with God.24 

The way Irenaeus connects incarnation and eschatological justice is intriguing. He uses the concept of 

recapitulation, which he understands as a retracing of the pattern of Adam's creation, life, and death that 

effects the restoration and renewal of humanity.25 The incarnation serves the victory of Christ over Satan 

and reveals to human beings what the Father is like, so that by imitating the Word, people may be restored 

to the image and likeness of God.26 These ideas contain the seeds of the later Christus Victor theme and of 

a moral influence theory of the atonement. But Irenaeus refuses to privilege these approaches at the 

expense of notions of sacrifice and propitiation.27 Opposing a Marcionite reading of the Old Testament, 

Irenaeus comments that Jesus "did not make void, but fulfilled the law, by performing the offices of the 

high priest, propitiating God for men, and cleansing the lepers, healing the sick, and Himself suffering 

death, that exiled man might go forth from condemnation, and might return without fear to his own 

inheritance."28 Irenaeus views Christ's sacrificial death as integral to recapitulation-a process initiated by 

the incarnation that leads to immortality and incorruptibility and thus to the ultimate fruition of 

eschatological justice.29 

In a number of ways, then, the death of Christ as the penalty for human sin-whether a recapitulation of the 

exile of humanity from the garden of Eden or the exile of Israel from the promised land-serves the purposes 

of God's eschatological justice. First, the punishment that Christ bears is not simply punishment against this 

or that particular legal construct. Christ bears the punishment for the rejection of justice itself, of fellowship 

and life with the only true God. Second, Christ's punishment rehabilitates human beings to fellowship with 

God. In other words, God wants to give people justice even though they abandon it, so the cross means 

hope not only for the victim but even for the perpetrator. God does not leave people in the brokenness of 

injustice but allows Christ to retrace the life and death of Israel (and the life and death of Adam) for the 

sake of his eschatological justice. 

Christ's penal substitution needs to be understood in light of the goal of the punishment-restoration of 

justice and human fellowship with God and each other. One way of articulating the importance of this goal 

is by means of Richard Mouw's "important distinction between redemptive and masochistic suffering."30 

We all can imagine situations in which we would give up something of ourselves in the interest of others. 

As a parent, I gladly do certain things for my children, even if there is a personal cost attached. I like to 

think that I would even be willing to die, if that were necessary to save my children's lives. We all view 

self-sacrifice-the giving of oneself for the sake of others-as appropriate in certain circumstances. This 

principle is reflected in Jesus' words, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's 

friends" (John 15:13). Though not all self-sacrifice is appropriate (and it is important not to lose sight of 

this fact), in certain circumstances it may be a perfectly right thing to do. 

Christ's sacrifice on the cross was voluntary. From the time of his temptation in the wilderness, he refused 

to assume the messianic kingship in a way that would subvert justice, even if that meant he could not avoid 

suffering. The "kingdoms of the world and their splendor," to which Satan alluded, would be his-but he 

would receive them only by way of suffering and death. This decision implies a significant difference 

between Christ's suffering and the suffering that results from abuse. Coercion on the part of the perpetrator 

and involuntary suffering on the part of the victim characterize abusive relationships. Neither coercion nor 

involuntary suffering can be attributed to Christ's atoning death on the cross. Any attempt to maintain 

abusive power structures by appealing to the cross is theologically incoherent and morally insidious.31 

Anselm already drew attention to the voluntary character of Christ's suffering and death: "God, therefore, 

did not force Christ to die, there being no sin in him. Rather, he underwent death of his own accord, not out 

of an obedience consisting in the abandonment of his life, but out of an obedience consisting in his 

upholding of righteousness so bravely and pertinaciously that as a result he incurred death."32 The 

consistent biblical witness is that Jesus voluntarily took suffering upon himself as part of his messianic 

vocation to restore communal justice and peace for Israel and humanity.33 



By retracing the steps of Israel and Adam, Jesus vicariously bore the suffering of abandonment and exile. 

The picture of an angry Father venting his fury on his child is an unbalanced caricature. It does not take 

into account the utter rejection of God's justice and the consistent refusal of divine forgiveness and 

restoration-and so it fails to acknowledge God's mercy in dealing with human rejection once and for all. It 

also neglects to inculcate the aim of penal substitution, namely, restoration of community and eternal 

peace. Finally, it ignores the voluntary character of Christ's suffering in the interest of this eschatological 

justice. 

PENAL SUBSTITUTION AND THE SUFFERING OF GOD 

For Irenaeus, the incarnation is an indispensable precondition for redemption and for maturation into full 

communion with God. Irenaeus regards the incarnation as the climax of God's progressive self-revelation, 

something the Bishop of Lyons traces throughout the Old Testament.34 Indeed, the biblical witness 

suggests that God does not remain aloof from the human condition. God enters time and space and is 

affected by them. The Old Testament portrays God as longing and hoping for the restoration of fellowship 

with Israel.35 Terence E. Fretheim draws attention to a number of passages in the Old Testament that 

express God's hope for the return and restoration of the people. The opening words of Isaiah 65 provide a 

striking example: "I was ready to be sought out by those who did not ask, to be found by those who did not 

seek me. I said, 'Here I am, here I am,' to a nation that did not call on my name. I held out my hands all day 

long to a rebellious people, who walk in a way that is not good, following their own devices . . . ."36 God 

yearns for a relationship with the people. This divine hope results in God's suffering emotionally for the 

sins of the people. In fact, God's hopes for them run so deep that, to sustain them, God bears their suffering. 

God even carries their burdens and sins.37 God's hope for, and commitment to, reconciliation and 

fellowship lead to self-giving in the incarnation, which is the climax of God's entry into the material and 

temporal conditions of life. In the mystery of the incarnation, God takes on human flesh and becomes 

subject to the conditions of human life, including violence, pain, and suffering. 

If the incarnation is the ultimate self-revelation of God (Heb 1:1-2), then Jesus' compassion and self-

sacrifice reflect God's compassionate self-sacrifice. Irenaeus takes God's involvement with time and matter 

so seriously that he sees "the impassible becoming capable of suffering."38 The reality of the incarnation, 

with its intimate connection between the human and the divine natures, means for Irenaeus that God suffers 

on the cross. If the cross is indeed an instance of divine self-sacrifice, it means that in Christ God has taken 

the punishment onto himself and that, in the words of Karl Earth, the judge is judged in our place.39 

God's self-donation in the crucifixion of Christ speaks strongly to both objections against penal 

substitution. First, it counters the notion that penal substitution is God's unjust infliction of suffering on an 

innocent third party. Since God assumes the penalty rather than punishing a third party, God can no longer 

be construed as a "bloodthirsty" God who punishes the innocent. Rather, by absorbing the punishment and 

thus enabling humankind to obtain forgiveness, God offers hope for the attainment of ultimate justice. 

Second, the objection that penal substitution glorifies suffering and so perpetuates victimization is also 

affected. Not all divine actions are to be imitated: We are not called upon to create the world or to pour out 

the Holy Spirit. Neither are we in a position to deal with Israel's and humanity's rejection of God's justice. It 

is God alone who through self-sacrifice opens the way for final justice. 

Not everyone may find the symbol of the cross hopeful. A careful exploration of penal substitution, 

however, puts to rest fears of an arbitrary and abusive God and the idea that a Christian doctrine of the 

atonement need perpetuate human suffering. First, since punishment and crime belong to different 

categories, the former may not be used to justify the latter. Second, in our sinful world, rejection of all 

penal justice would only contribute to the cycle of violence and therefore would not serve the hope of 

eschatological justice. Third, the justification of penal justice in the particular instance of the crucifixion is 

rooted in the divine determination to uphold the vision of eschatological justice despite the people's 

consistent rejection of it. Penal justice is thus a last resort that God enacts not for its own sake but for the 

sake of the future of his eschatological justice. In light of this unique purpose, Christ's voluntary self-

donation is not a recipe for the perpetuation of human suffering but a beacon of hope for an end to all 



victimization. Finally, the mystery of the incarnation implies that God takes the punishment for sin upon 

himself, thereby offering to perpetrator and victim alike the hope of eschatological justice.40 

1Cynthia S. W. Crysdale, Embracing Travail: Retrieving the Cross Today (New York: Continuum, 1999), 

115. 

2Rita Nakashima Brock, Journeys by Heart: A Christology of Erotic Power (New York: Crossroad, 1988), 

56. 

3See also Joanne Carlson Brown and Rebecca Parker, "For God So Loved the World?" in Christianity, 

Patriarchy and Abuse, ed. Joanne Carlson Brown and Carole R. Bonn (New York: Pilgrim, 1989), 1-30; 

Timothy Gorringe, God's Just Vengeance: Crime, Violence, and the Rhetoric of Salvation (Cambridge: 

Cambridge University Press, 1996); Aaron Milavec, "Is God Arbitrary and Sadistic? Anselm's Atonement 

Theory Reconsidered," Schola 4 (1981): 45-94; Craig L. Nessan, "Violence and Atonement," Dialog 35 

(1996): 26-35; Darby Kathleen Ray, Deceiving the Devil: Atonement, Abuse, and Ransom (Cleveland: 

Pilgrim, 1998). Joel Green and Mark Baker also accept the link between violence and penal substitution in 

Recovering the Scandal of the Cross: Atonement in New Testament and Contemporary Contexts (Downers 

Grove: InterVarsity, 2000). 

4In discussing penal substitution, I am aware that I am not dealing with atonement theology in its full 

breadth. By arguing that penal justice offers hope, I am therefore not saying that this is the only hope that 

the cross offers in the struggle against violence. 

5Friedrich Nietzsche, "On the Tarantulas," in Thus Spoke Zarathustra (New York: Modern Library, 1995), 

100. 

6Compare T. Richard Snyder, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Punishment (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 

2001), 11. 

7Jacques Derrida, "Force of Law: The 'Mystical Foundation of Authority,'" in Deconstruction and the 

Possibility of Justice, ed. Drucilla Cornell, Michel Rosenfeld, and David Gray Carlson (London: 

Routledge, 1992), 14-5. 

8Jacques Derrida, Deconstruction in a Nutshell: A Conversation with Jacques Derrida, ed. John D. Caputo 

(New York: Fordham University Press, 1997), 130. 

9See Nicholas Wolterstorff, "The Contours of Justice: An Ancient Call for Shalom," in God and the 

Victim: Theological Reflections on Evil, Victimization, Justice, and Forgiveness, ed. Lisa Barnes 

Lampman with Michelle D. Shattuck (Grand Rapids/Washington: Eerdmans/Neighbors Who Care, 1999), 

107-30. 

10Christopher D. Marshall, "The Jabs of Justice: Towards a Christian Understanding of Punishment," in 

Living in the LambLight: Christianity and Contemporary Challenges to the Gospel, ed. Hans Boersma 

(Vancouver: Regent College Publishing, 2001), 177-99. 

11Donald X. Burt, Friendship and Society: An Introduction to Augustine's Practical Philosophy (Grand 

Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 185-6. 

12L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 

13. 

13Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and 

Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), 294. 



14Of course, one might argue that if the perpetrator repents, forgiveness rather than punishment should be 

forthcoming. The question is, however: whose forgiveness? A third party extending forgiveness on behalf 

of the victim is usually problematic, and it is hardly the judge's right to forgive a crime. 

15B. Johnson points out that msspat not only refers to the verdict of the judge, but can also have the 

connotation of saving or punishing righteousness, so that the word is at times used in parallel to the word 

.fdaqa. "tSSiift mispat" in Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, vol. 9, ed. G. Johannes 

Botterweok, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-Josef Fabry (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 93. The Pauline 

notion of dikaiosune tou theou likewise refers to God's covenant faithfulness, Compare N. T. Weight, What 

Saint Paul Really Said: Was Paul of Tarsus the Real Founder of Christianity? (Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, 

1997), 93-111. 

16Herrrwn Bianehi, Ethiek van het straffen (Nijkerk: Callenhach, 1964), 47-63; Daniel W. Van Ness, 

Crime and Its Victims (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1986), 113-25; Christopher D. Marshall, Beyond 

Retribution: A New Testament Vision for Justice, Crime, and Punishment (Grand Rapids/Auckland: 

Eerdmans/Lime Grove, 2001)), 35-95. 

17Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 221. 

18Compare John H. Hayes, "Atonement in the Book of Leviticus," Interpretation 52 (1998): 10-2; E. P. 

Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress, 

1977), 157-82. 

19Deut 28:32, 36-7, 49-52, 63-68; 29:28; 31:16-22, 29. The Song of Moses that the Israelites are to sing 

(Deut 32) is to function as a self-indictment. 

20Gordon McConville, Grace in the End: A Study in Deuteronomic Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 

1993), 65-122. 

21Compare Joseph P. Braswell, "The Blessing of Abraham' versus 'The Curse of the Law': Another Look at 

Gal 3:10-13," Westminster Theological Journal 53 (1991): 73-91; N. T. Wright, The Climax of the 

Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 137-56. 

22The notion that on the cross Jesus took Israel's exile onto himself can be argued from (1) the fact that 

people in Second Temple Judaism commonly looked at themselves as still being in exile, (2) the lack of 

fulfilment of prophetic promises of restoration, and (3) the narrative logic of Pauline theology. Compare 

Craig A. Evans, "Jesus and the Continuing Exile of Israel," in Jesus and the Restoration of Israel: A Critical 

Assessment of N. T. Wright's Jesus and the Victory of God (Downers Grove, IL/Carlisle, UK: 

InterVarsity/Paternoster, 1999), 77-100; N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God 

(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 268-72; N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 

1996), 268-74. 

23Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses [AH] III. 18.7, in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1, ed. Alexander Roberts and 

James Donaldson (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1994), 448. Compare AH III.22.1-2; V.1.2, 14.1. 

24See Mary Ann Donovan, "Insights on Ministry: Irenaeus," Toronto Journal of Theology 2 (1986): 82-5. 

25On Irenaeus's understanding of recapitulation, see my "Redemptive Hospitality in Irenaeus: A Model for 

Ecumenicity in a Violent World, Pro Ecclesia 11 (2002): 207-26; Terrence L. Tiessen, Irenaeus on the 

Salvation of the Unevangelized (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow, 1993), 158-62; Gustaf Wingren, Man and the 

Incarnation: A Study in the Biblical Theology of Irenaeus (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1959). 

26See, e.g., AH III.18.7; V.1.1. 



27Andrew J. Bandstra, "Paul and an Ancient Interpreter: A Comparison of the Teaching of Redemption in 

Paul and Irenaeus," Calvin Theological Journal 5 (1970): 43-63. 

28Irenaeus, AH IV.8.2. 

29By using the Irenaean notion of recapitulation, I am arguing that substitution docs not mean that Christ 

suffered instead of others, but suffered on their behalf, as their corporate representative. Compare Marshall, 

Beyond Retribution, 61. I argue the case for representative punishment more comprehensively in my 

forthcoming book, Hospitality, Violence, and the Cross: Contemporary Explorations in Atonement 

Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2004). 

30Richard J. Mouw, "Violence and the Atonement," Books & Culture (Jan./Feb. 2001), 15. 

31Ray attempts to overturn this argument by saying that many battered women return to increasingly 

dangerous relationships and that the notion of Christ's freely chosen obedience makes self-sacrifice 

normative for Christians. Deceiving the Devil, 58-60. But this argument proceeds on the assumption that 

battered women freely choose their dangerous relationships. Freely chosen relationships naturally imply 

moral responsibility. Ray's argument, therefore, cannot avoid assigning blame to the victim. The wrong 

attribution of free choice to the victim inadvertently revictimizes her. 

32Anselm, Cur Deus Homo 1.9, translated in The Major Works, ed. Brian Davies and G. R. Evans 

(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 

33G. C. Berkouwer cites these passages as indicating the voluntary character of Christ's suffering: Isa 53:7, 

10-2; Mark 10:45; 15:23, 36; Luke 23:46; John 10:11, 15, 17-8; 13:1. Het werk van Christus (Kampen: 

Kok, 1953), 154-5. 

34Irenaeus, AH IV.10.1. Compare Irenaeus, Proof of the Apostolic Preaching (New York: Paulist, 1952), 

25, 27, 43-85; Tiessen, Irenaeus, 142-9. 

35Gerhard Sauter comments on the relation between God's hope and our hope: "There is even God's hope: 

We are his hope because we are expected, like the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). God waits patiently and 

tirelessly for the transfiguration of human expectations to the confidence in God's promise and creative 

acting. God expects us to leave room for God's redeeming activity. On this hope rests our hope." "Our 

Reasons for Hope," in The End of the World and the Ends of God: Science and Theology on Eschatology, 

ed. John Polkinghorne and Michael Welker (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity, 2000), 214. 

36Fretheim also refers to the "desiderative particles" in passages of lament (Ps 81:8; Isa 48:18; Deut 5:29) 

and to the pain of God's dashed hopes for a relationship with God's people (Isa 42:18, 23; 48:12, 18; 50:2; 

65:12; 66:4; Mic 6:3). The Suffering of God: An Old Testament Perspective (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), 

119. 

37Compare Isa 1:14; Jer 44:22. 

38Irenaeus, AH III. 16.6. Compare AH III.20.4; IV.20.8. 

39Karl Earth, Church Dogmatics (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956), IV/1, 211-83. Compare John Stott, The 

Cross of Christ (Downer's Grove: Intervarsity, 1986), 156-63; Miroslav Volf, "The Trinity Is Our Social 

Program': The Doctrine of the Trinity and the Shape of Social Engagement," Modem Theology 41 (1998): 

403-23. 

40I want to thank Dr. Miroslav Volf and the other members of the seminar on "Modernity, Postmodernity, 

and the Future of Hope" for their helpful comments on an earlier draft of this paper. The research for this 



paper was made possible through financial support of the Pew Charitable Trusts. I especially extend ray 

appreciation to Anna Mae Bush and the other staff of the Seminars in Christian Scholarship for the 

hospitality that they offered during my stay at Calvin College. 

Hans Boersma holds the Geneva Chair in Reformational Worldview Studies at Trinity Western University 

(Langley, BC). He is the author of several books, including A Hot Pepper Corn: Richard Baxter's Doctrine 

of justification in Its Seventeenth-Century Context of Controversy (1993). 

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