Proxies, etcetera

Proxies

I grew up hearing my parents talk about doing "proxy work for the dead" in the temple.

In a legal context, a "proxy" is someone who votes on behalf of an absentee party (a proxy, though, does not confer a general power of attorney).

But this idea of a proxy relationship doesn't appeal to me in a spiritual context.  I mean, it doesn't scream warm-and-cuddly, does it?  Is there anything about being someone's proxy that promotes equality?  Sure, we could send our partner in our place, but we could as easily send a stranger.

Thus, proxies tell us nothing about the interpersonal relationship between the two people.

The idea of being "proxies" for the dead is an interesting notion.  Did they give us their permission to be their proxies?  This is all part of a broader theological matrix which, in the LDS Church, we call "vicarious work."

The word "vicarious" does not appear in scripture; it is a novelty of our evolving temple doctrine.

Well, I take that back.  The word does appear in D&C 138 in Joseph F. Smith's vision of the dead from 1918, in which President Smith used his own vernacular to describe what he saw:

​   These were taught faith in God,
   repentance from sin,
   vicarious baptism
   for the remission of sins,
   the gift of the Holy Ghost
   by the laying on of hands,
   and all other principles
   of the gospel.

(D&C 138:33-34)

Question:  If ordinance-work can be performed by proxies, why do any of us need to receive the ordinances personally?  Why not have Adam splashed in the water by immersion for his entire race?

   One and done.

Vicarious Atonement

The implications of vicarious work, when we apply it to Christ's sacrifice, are staggering.

Consider:  What's the point of "being tested" during our mortal probation if God's work can be accomplished vicariously through a third-party?  Aren't we all handed a resurrection button at some point, regardless?

Thought experiment: Pretend we're on Christ's football team.  But ask yourself, Why does our Star Quarterback (who is a One-Man-Show) need us on His team at all?  Picture a quarterback who throws the ball and then runs downfield to catch it, who cannot be blocked or tackled as he spikes the football in the end zone of death and hell?

If we are saved by Christ's merits only, are we left watching?  Do we stand there clapping for Him as He wins the game on our behalf?  Are we just His cheering squad?

And at the end of the game, when they pass out Superbowl Championship Rings to the whole team, we'll know it was Christ alone who won and earned the right to wear the Ring.  So the fact that we're given a ring, too (a crown), is that just, like, a participation trophy?

I think we need to consider where we fit in the equation.  If we are redeemed in consequence of Jesus's vicarious awesomeness ― what's the point of a victory we didn't earn?

(And no, I don't think we can "earn" salvation; that's not what I mean).  I am asking, Where's the moral victory in having undeserved success?  What's really going on?

I want to offer a different perspective on the atonement.

The Problem with Vicariousness

Simply put, the problem we face with all this "vicarious" business is that it is one-sided.

It is like viewing Christ in Gethsemane on the television screen, behind glass, as though we were passive observers.

But His sacrifice was not a spectator sport.  The atonement is not something we witness, but experience; but we cannot experience it alone, solitarily, by ourselves: it must be shared.

Yes, of course we share it fully with Christ, but more than that, with each other.  Salvation is received from Christ individually: but it is shared and enjoyed collectively.

All of this to say, the whole point of Christ's mission was to overcome our alienation.

The atonement means to be reconciled; alienation means to be separated.

The real challenge is to be reconciled to each other.

So let's return to this idea of proxies: a proxy is unidirectional; it is not reciprocated.  A vicarious sacrifice is quite useless unless it is shared.

"No Substitutions Allowed"

Now to my main point: Is it time we abandon the Substitution Theory of the atonement?

I wonder if Christianity got off on the wrong foot with this idea that Christ stepped into our shoes to receive our punishment undeservedly.  This kind of Ransom Theory was popularized by Elder Boyd K. Packer in his parable in the talk, "The Mediator".

Elder Packer's parable is quite legalistic: "The man signed a contract and the contract fell due; the debt had not been fully paid [i.e., the man defaulted on his loan]. His creditor appeared and demanded payment in full."

Question:  Who is this awful "creditor" in the parable?  Who's foreclosing on our home?  The bank?  The Father?  Amorphous "Justice"? 

Yikes!

What a doctrinal dark hole to fall into, believing that Christ had to suffer to appease . . . who?  What?  Some sort of cosmic absolutes?

No, no, no, no, no (that was a lot of no's, so you know I'm passionate now).

Christ didn't suffer in order to appease a third party; Christ suffered to appeal to us.

"Tim, I want to be in a loving, intimate relationship with you: an intimacy so profound we will become one; we will know each other perfectly, as all divine exalted beings do.  To show you I'm serious, I will make myself vulnerable and will share in your pain, your anguish, your sickness, your brokenness.  All this I will do because I want to understand you and for you to trust me; I want to heal you; I want to abide in you always."

So let's stop pretending Christ was a chip used to buy off our creditor.

"But Tim," someone objects.  "How do you explain the 'demands of justice'?"

What if the demands of justice meant we endured the consequences of our choices alone?  In isolation from God, alienated from His loving embrace?  Naked against the wind?

What if the arms of mercy meant we endure the consequences of our choices with God holding our hand, unwilling to let us go, feeling and suffering everything with us, His robe encircling us, giving us the strength to endure to the end, which we would not have been able to do but for Him cleaving to us?

Remember: a proxy requires the absence of the other person.

   But God is never absent.

Proxy
a poem

​Here, take:
my proxy I give you

   speak
   with my lips

        radial veins
        pressed together
             wrists
             deciphering trust
​             from fingerprints

   our love
   shouldered, shared
            sure 

   all you cherish
   will bear my name
     
gripped as
one

​   voice