Category: Theology & Faith

Faced with the need for some kind of satisfaction for sin, Anselm deduces that “If it be necessary, therefore, as it appears, that the heavenly kingdom be made up of men, and this cannot be effected unless the aforesaid satisfaction be made, which none but God can make and none but man ought to make, it is necessary for the God-man to make it” (Bk. Two, Ch. VI). No fallen human being can possibly make satisfaction for sin; only God can do so. And yet, it’s appropriate that a human being be the one who makes satisfaction, since “as Adam and his whole race, had he not sinned, would have stood firm without the support of any other being, so, after the fall, the same race must rise and be exalted by means of itself” (Bk. Two, Ch. VIII).

Anselm affirms the traditional Chalcedonean definition of Christ’s two natures: he is fully God and fully man. The two natures aren’t mixed and they do not compose some tertium quid neither fully God nor fully human. “For God will not do it, because he has no debt to pay; and man will not do it, because he cannot. Therefore, in order that the God-man may perform this, it is necessary that the same being should perfect God and perfect man, in order to make this atonement” (Bk. Two, Ch. VII).

But how, exactly, does Anselm think that the God-man makes atonement for sin? We have seen that Anselm thinks that any rational creature, by its very nature, owes God perfect obedience. Humanity has failed at this, and as a consequence we now owe God our death. However, the God-man, while he owes God obedience as all rational creatures do, doesn’t owe God his death, because he hasn’t sinned. “For, if Adam would not have died had he not committed sin, much less should this man suffer death, in whom there can be no sin, for he is God” (Bk. Two, Ch. X).

The God-man, then, in voluntarily giving up his life, renders to God something which was not owed, and this gift outweighs the debt of human sin. To show this, Anselm asks Boso to engage in a thought experiment. Imagine, he says, that the God-man was standing before you and that you were told that the entire created universe would be destroyed if you didn’t kill him. Would it be right to do it? He further tells Boso to suppose that if he didn’t kill the God-man “all the sins of the world will be heaped upon you.”

Boso replies: ” I would far rather bear all other sins, not only those of this world, past and future, but also all others that can be conceived of, than this alone. And I think I ought to say this, not only with regard to killing him, but even as to the slightest injury which could be inflicted on him” on the grounds that a “sin committed upon his person exceeds beyond comparison all the sins which can be thought of, that do not affect his person.”

Anselm praises Boso for his answer and adds that “sins are as hateful as they are evil, and that life is only amiable in proportion as it is good. And, therefore, it follows that that life [i.e. the life of the God-man] is more lovely than sins are odious.” So, for the God-man to lay down his life is to offer a git that “surpasses all the sins of men.”

Recall that Anselm has said earlier that Christ was not killed by God, but that his life of perfect obedience in a sinful world led to his death. So, in what sense does he lay down his life? Anselm’s view is that death isn’t natural to human nature, but only occurs as a result of sin. So the God-man, being sinless, wouldn’t naturally have died. However, he could voluntarily give up his life and did so precisely to offer that priceless gift that “taketh away the sin of the world.”

I imagine that for us this strikes a bit of a false note. Contemporary theology has so strongly emphasized the humanity of Jesus that it sounds strange, to say the least, to say that he was somehow naturally immune to death. It seems to make more sense to say that if, somehow, Jesus hadn’t been killed by the religious and political authorities of his day he still would’ve died eventually of natural causes. Knowing what we know about human nature we no longer think of death as unnnatural, but as part of the natural process by which living things come into and pass out of being. As part of the process of life, death seems necessary.

Maybe Anselm could accept the foregoing and point out that it still wasn’t necessary for Christ to die a violent, shameful death. That is, he chose to throw his lot in with sinners, to be found among them, to be tortured as one of them, and finally killed. Might not this gift be understood to contain the saving power Anselm describes as his voluntarily laying down his life? It might be said that even if incarnation necessarily entails mortality, the Son of God, being sinless, couldn’t possibly have owed God this kind of death. And indeed, it’s this identification with sinners that gives the story of Jesus’ life and death so much of its power, it seems to me.

Of course, even given all this, we might still wonder how this gift is applied to us? How does the God-man’s life of perfect obedience, culminating in his freely offered death, reconcile us with God?

Anselm’s argument goes like this:

The Son of God’s gift of himself, his obedience, his life, and his death, is a gift that “surpasses all the sins of men,” and this unsurpassable gift earns for the Son a reward from the Father.

But, how “can a reward be bestowed on one who needs nothing, and to whom no gift or release can be made?” In other words, everything that belongs to the Father also belongs to the Son, so he has no need of reward. Yet “if a reward so large and so deserved is not given to him or any one else, then it will almost appear as if the Son had done this great work in vain.” Therefore, the reward “must be bestowed upon some one else, for it cannot be upon him.”

And what, Anselm asks, could be more proper than that the reward be bestowed “upon those for whose salvation, as right reason teaches, he became man; and for whose sake, as we have already said, he left an example of suffering death to preserve holiness?” Namely, human beings, who “weighed down by so heavy a debt, and wasting through poverty, in the depth of their miseries, he should remit the debt incurred by their sins, and give them what their transgressions had forfeited.”

The interesting thing here is that Anselm makes no mention of faith or works as necessary conditions for reaping the benefits of Christ’s sacrifice. And, if his gift of himself is so surpassing in beauty and goodness that it outweighs the entire world’s sin, why not embrace universalism? Obviously Anselm doesn’t draw this conclusion, and indeed he specifically says that there are human beings who will not be saved, but if the gift really does blot out all the sins of the world, it’s hard to see on what grounds he shouldn’t draw this conclusion. After all, if God the Son asks that the merits of his death be applied to his brethren, what grounds, apart from some inscrutable will, would there be for applying it to some and denying it to others. After all, ex hypothesi, we are all completely unable to atone for our own sins.

As Holy Week is drawing to a close I think I’m going to make this the last post on this topic. There are other topics Anselm discusses which might make worthy tangents, such as an argument for something like the Immaculate Conception, as well as his discussion of in what sense Christ is an example for us. But I’ll put that off for another time.

My goal hasn’t been to argue that Anselm provides the correct account of the Atonement (assuming we’re even capable of such a thing). But I hope I have given some indication that his thought is more complex, interesting, and even appealing than it’s often given credit for. Far from being an arbitrary tyrant, Anselm’s God is defined by his goodness, which upholds the order and beauty of the universe, and, when we had fallen into sin, finds a way to restore us to himself while maintaining that beauty and blotting out the evil of sin. The God-man is the incarnate expression of the love of God the Son for God the Father, whereby he gives himself back to the Father in a trinitarian movement that, in George Lindbeck’s words, “irradiat[es] the universe and mak[es] it a far, far better place than it would ever have been without Christ’s coming and inevitable death.”

Okay, the argument so far: Anselm has contended that humankind has fallen into sin by failing to render to God the honor due him (i.e. obedience). As a result we threaten to fail to acheive God’s intended purpose for us, namely, being part of the “celestial estate” and consequently we disrupt the order and beauty of God’s good creation. God won’t suffer the order of creation to be disrupted, since otherwise he would not be all-good and all-powerful. For the order to be restored and the goodness of creation to be upheld sin must be punished or satisfaction must be made for it. Human beings, already owing everything they have to God, are unable to make satisfaction for sin. And yet if God were simply to punish sin his purpose for humankind – their sharing in the celestial estate – would be frustrated. Therefore, God will make satisfaction for sin.

In Book Two, Anselm turns to discuss in more detail how it is that God makes satisfaction for sin. In Book Two, Chapter Five Boso raises the objection that saying that God must make satisfaction for sin seems to put God under the constraints of some kind of compulsion or necessity. Moreover, if God acts of necessity why should we be grateful for what he does?

But, Anselm replies, this isn’t an absolute necessity, but only necessary given that God has purposes for human beings and will do whatever is necessary to make those purposes effective. God’s original grace to us is our creation and that he destines us for eternal life; how much more grace, then, does he show in that he stoops to bring us to that destination even after we have fallen into sin?

Much more, therefore, do we owe all thanks to God for completing his intended favor to man; though, indeed, it would not be proper for him to fail in his good design, because wanting nothing in himself he begun it for our sake and not his own. For what man was about to do was not hidden from God at his creation; and yet by freely creating man, God as it were bound himself to complete the good which he had begun. In fine, God does nothing by necessity, since he is not compelled or restrained in anything. And when we say that God does anything to avoid dishonor, which he certainly does not fear, we must mean that God does this from the necessity of maintaining his honor; which necessity is after all no more than this, viz., the immutability of his honor, which belongs to him in himself, and is not derived from another; and therefore it is not properly called necessity. Yet we may say, although the whole work which God does for man is of grace, that it is necessary for God, on account of his unchangeable goodness, to complete the work which he has begun.

Anselm spends the balance of Book One trying to defend the following argument:

[I]f it is unfitting for God to elevate man with any stain upon him, to that for which he made him free from all stain, lest it should seem that God had repented of his good intent, or was unable to accomplish his designs; far more is it impossible, on account of the same unfitness, that no man should be exalted to that state for which he was made. Therefore, a satisfaction such as we have above proved necessary for sin, must be found apart from the Christian faith, which no reason can show; or else we must accept the Christian doctrine. (Bk. One, Ch. XXV)

Let’s put it in more prosaic terms:

1. If God were to elevate man to eternal happiness with any “stain upon him,” then God would either have repented of his good intent (to make man free from stain of guilt or injustice) or God would be unable to accomplish his intention to make man free from stain.

2. It is unfitting that God should repent of his intent or be unable to to accomplish his intentions.

3. Therefore, God would not elevate main with any stain of guilt or injustice.

4. The only way for man to be elevated to eternal happiness without guilt or injustice is if satisfaction of sin is made.

5. Man is incapable of offering satisfaction for sin.

Therefore God must make satisfaction for sin.

Premise (1) receives support from the following considerations: Suppose, Anselm says, that God intended to bring some human beings to eternal happiness in order to populate his celestial kingdom. This is in order to replace those angels who fell and, perhaps, to make up a foreordained number of rational denizens of the kingdom. If God didn’t do this then “it will follow that God either could not accomplish the good which he begun, or he will repent of having undertaken it; either of which is absurd.”

But, Anselm asks, “Can you think that man, who has sinned, and never made satisfaction to God for his sin, but only been suffered to go unpunished, may become the equal of an angel who has never sinned?” In other words, if human beings are truly to be co-equal citizens in the kingdom of heaven, they have to be of the same stature as the unfallen angels. But how can a human sinner, who was neither punished nor made satisfaction for his sin, be the equal of a good angel who never disobeyed God? For “truth will not suffer man thus to be raised to an equality with holy beings.” For God to treat sinners as equals with unfallen angels would be a kind of lie.

Anselm goes on to argue by analogy that a man who had a precious pearl which fell into the mire wouldn’t replace it in its casket without first cleaning it from all defilement. Likewise, how can we say that God would elevate men to heavenly status without their first being cleansed from their guilt and sin?

Therefore, consider it settled that, without satisfaction, that is, without voluntary payment of the debt, God can neither pass by the sin unpunished, nor can the sinner attain that happiness, or happiness like that, which he had before he sinned; for man cannot in this way be restored, or become such as he was before he sinned. (Bk. One, Ch. XIX)

He later asserts that “no unjust person shall be admitted to happiness; for as that happiness is complete in which there is nothing wanting, so it can belong to no one who is not so pure as to have no injustice found in him.”

Premise (2) is to be taken as something like a self-evident truth, I think. If God repents of his intentions then his is subject to change. If he is unable to acheive his purposes he isn’t omnipotent. Either of these Anselm would regard as inconsistent with the divine nature.

(3) follows from (1) and (2).

(4) is a consequence of (3) and of what it means to make satisfaction for sin.

Anselm has three distinct, though related, arguments for (5). The first is that we already owe everything we have and are to God, so we have no “surplus” from which to draw in order to make satisfaction for sin. As Boso admits, “If in justice I owe God myself and all my powers, even when I do not sin, I have nothing left to render to him for my sin.”

The second argument is that any sin, however small, is infinite in gravity, and so nothing a finite creature could do could possible make satisfaction for even a single sin. This is becuase our obligation to God is absolute and “you make no satisfaction unless you restore something greater than the amount of that obligation, which should restrain you from committing the sin.”

The third argument is that since man’s original task in paradise was to overcome the power of the devil by resisting the devil’s temptations and blandishments, at which he failed. This is what man “stole” from God, threatening to frustrate God’s intentions for him. And the only way to undo this act of disobedience would be a perfect act of obedience in resisting the devils temptations. But no fallen human is capable of this since “a sinful man can by no means do this, for a sinner cannot justify a sinner.”

Here Boso objects that it seems unjust to demand of someone something (e.g. satisfaction for sin) that he is unable to provide. As Kant later said, “ought implies can.” But Anselm’s reply is that mankinds predicament, its damaged nature which is unable not to sin, is its own fault:

Therefore, as it is a crime in man not to have that power which he received to avoid sin, it is also a crime to have that inability by which he can neither do right and avoid sin, nor restore the debt which he owes on account of his sin. For it is by his own free action that he loses that power, and falls into this inability. For not to have the power which one ought to have, is the same thing as to have the inability which one ought not to have. (Bk. One, Ch. XXIV)

Anselm seems to be following Augustine here in holding that the guilt of our first parents’ sin, which resulted in a human nature damaged and unable to avoid (much less make recompense for) sin, is imputed to all their descendents. I personally don’t find this any less problematic here than in Augustine. However, even if we hold people responsible only for the sins they voluntarily commit, Anselm’s other arguments about our inability to make satisfaction for our various sins don’t seem seem to depend on this kind of inherited guilt. That is, we could think of it as each one of us “recapitulating” the Fall individually.

From all this it follows that (to quote again the conclusion to the argument above):

a satisfaction such as we have above proved necessary for sin, must be found apart from the Christian faith, which no reason can show; or else we must accept the Christian doctrine.

I think (1) is the premise most of us are likely to balk at. Especially in the Lutheran tradition the righteousness of God is held to be displayed precisely in the justifying of sinners. This God who descends to have fellowship with sinners and outcasts is taken to be the very essence of the Gospel. Anselm’s insistence that no one can enjoy the presence of God without first being cleansed of sin and guilt seems to put conditions on God’s salvific will.

However, it can be said in Anselm’s defense that God’s holiness can’t abide the presence of sin and that God won’t let his purposes for creation be thwarted by sin. Also, we do seem to sense the need for a cleansing of some sort. C.S. Lewis writes in defense of the idea of purgatory that we would feel a ceratin “unfittingness” being admitted to our Father’s house covered in filth and clothed with rags. Moreover, the Lutheran and Reformed traditions do emphasize the idea that there is an expiatory aspect to Christ’s work; God loves us while we were yet sinners in that Christ died for us. There is a cost to God’s saving work, but the cost is borne by God himself.

The first time I read this I thought that chapters XVI to XVIII of Book One were kind of a weird tangent. There Anselm discusses at some length whether there was a specific number of rational beings God intended to bring to eternal happiness, and, if so, whether God’s purpose in saving human beings was to replace the number of angels who fell. But I now think there’s more to be gotten out of this line of thought than I’d originally thought.

Anselm considers two possible views. The first is that there was a specific number of angels that God intended to live in heaven with him, and that his only reason for elevating some human beings to eternal life was to replace the number of angels who defected. The other possibility is that God had always intended to bring a certain number of angels and a certain number of human beings to blessedness, but that, after the fall of some angels, he had to save more human beings in order to make up the deficit. It’s axiomatic for Anselm that God has some specific number in mind: “There is no question that intelligent nature, which finds its happiness, both now and forever, in the contemplation of God, was foreseen by him in a certain reasonable and complete number, so that there would be an unfitness in its being either less or greater.”

Anselm favors the view that God had always intended to save some humans, but that more than originally forseen will be saved in order to make up the deficit of angels:

[I]f the perfection of the created universe is to be understood as consisting, not so much in the number of beings, as in the number of natures; it follows that human nature was either made to consummate this perfection, or that it was superfluous, which we should not dare affirm of the nature of the smallest reptile. Wherefore, then, it was made for itself, and not merely to restore the number of beings possessing another nature. From which it is plain that, even had no angel fallen, men would yet have had their place in the celestial kingdom. And hence it follows that there was not a perfect number of angels, even before a part fell; otherwise, of necessity some men or angels must fall, because it would be impossible that any should continue beyond the perfect number. (Bk. One, Chapter XVIII)

God’s celestial kingdom would not be complete, Anselm argues, unless each nature, or at least each rational nature, was represented. Again we see that God’s purposes for creation are the context in which we need to understand Atonement according to Anselm. Leaving aside whether there is a specific number of beings that must populate heaven (though Anselm’s reasons for holding this are better than might be suspected), it shows that he conceives God as having purposes for (at least some of) his (rational) creatures: to bring them into a life of eternal communion with the divine Self. Rational nature, whether human or angelic, “finds its happiness, both now and forever, in the contemplation of God.”

This suggests why God can’t be satisfied, so to speak, with merely punishing sin. God, on Anselm’s account, is not simply about balancing the books. He is about bringing creatures to the proper fulfillment; anything less would be a frustration of his purposes for creation. Admittedly Anselm’s juridical language can at times obscure this point. But seen in the larger context of his understanding of God and creation, I think we start to get a picture that has more continuity with certain patristic motifs such as “recapitulation.” God is interested in getting the human project back on track so that human nature can be elevated to its proper end.