Appendix G: Responding to Rillera on Key New Testament Texts — Romans 3:25, 2 Corinthians 5:21, Galatians 3:13, 1 Peter 2:24, and Hebrews

Introduction

In this appendix, we turn to one of the most important aspects of Andrew Rillera's argument in Lamb of the Free. In Chapters 6 and 7 of his book, Rillera examines a series of New Testament passages that Christians have traditionally understood as teaching substitutionary atonement — and he argues that none of them actually do so. His conclusion is sweeping: the key "proof texts" that defenders of substitutionary atonement rely upon are "demonstrably not about sacrificial atonement (nor are they about substitution)."¹ Instead, Rillera argues, these texts are about solidarity, participation, and union with Christ in his death and resurrection.

This is a bold claim, and it deserves careful engagement. Rillera is a serious scholar who has done his homework in the Old Testament sacrificial background (as we saw in Appendix E) and in the Passover and Lord's Supper traditions (as we discussed in Appendix F). His readings of these New Testament passages are not careless. They draw on respected scholars like Scott Shauf, Daniel Bailey, Dominika Kurek-Chomycz, and David Moffitt, and they deserve a fair hearing.

However, I believe Rillera's exegesis of these key texts is ultimately unpersuasive. Across every passage he treats, we find the same pattern at work. First, Rillera acknowledges that a text could be read in a substitutionary way. Second, he appeals to the wider participatory context of the author's theology. Third, he concludes that participation excludes substitution. The flaw in his reasoning is consistently at step three — the assumption that if participation is present, substitution must be absent. As I have argued throughout this book, substitution and participation are not rivals. They are partners. The New Testament writers hold them together, and so should we.

In what follows, I will engage Rillera's treatment of six key texts and topics: (1) Romans 3:25 and the hilastērion debate; (2) 2 Corinthians 5:21 and Galatians 3:13; (3) 1 Peter 2:24 and Isaiah 53; (4) the Epistle to the Hebrews; and (5) Mark 10:45. For each, I will present Rillera's argument as fairly as I can, acknowledge what he gets right, and then explain where and why I disagree.

Section 1: Romans 3:25 and the Hilastērion Debate

Romans 3:21–26 is, in my view, the most theologically dense and important passage in the entire New Testament for understanding the atonement. Paul writes that God "put forward" Christ Jesus "as a hilastērion (ἱλαστήριον) by his blood, to be received by faith" (Rom 3:25, ESV). As I argued at length in Chapter 8, this passage is the theological summit of Paul's argument in Romans 1–3 and provides the clearest statement of how God can be both "just and the justifier" of those who have faith in Jesus (3:26). The hilastērion is central to this argument.

Rillera's treatment of this passage is one of the most striking in his book. He argues that hilastērion in Romans 3:25 is not about sacrifice, not about atonement, and not about propitiation. Instead, drawing heavily on the work of Daniel Bailey, Rillera proposes that hilastērion is best understood as a Greco-Roman "conciliatory votive gift" — an inanimate object offered to appease a deity or reconcile two parties after a conflict.²

Let me lay out his argument fairly before responding.

Rillera's Argument

Rillera makes several points in his case against the traditional reading. First, he argues that past studies of hilastērion "have often allowed theological considerations to overshadow lexicography."³ Bailey's research, which Rillera relies on heavily, contends that a hilastērion in the ancient world "is always a thing — never an idea or an action or an animal."⁴ In other words, it refers to a concrete physical object — a statue, a monument, a stele — not a sacrificial victim. Since we do not have "a single example of a hilastērion that is a sacrificial animal" in any ancient Jewish or pagan text, Rillera says we should "abandon the idea that a hilastērion is a victim."⁵

Second, Rillera considers and largely sets aside the "mercy seat" interpretation — the view that Paul is alluding to the kapporet (כַּפֹּרֶת), the golden lid of the ark of the covenant where blood was sprinkled on the Day of Atonement (Lev 16). He notes that hilastērion is anarthrous (without the definite article) in Romans 3:25, which makes it harder to see it as a reference to the specific mercy seat known to Greek-speaking Jews.⁶ He also argues that even if the mercy seat is in view, this would not support "atoning sacrifice" because the mercy seat is an object, not a sacrifice.

Third, and most importantly, Rillera argues that the sins Paul has been describing in Romans 1–3 — idolatry, murder, and sexual immorality — are precisely the sins that the Levitical kipper system cannot address. These are capital offenses that contaminate the land and cannot be expiated by sacrifice (cf. Num 15:30–31). Therefore, Rillera reasons, Paul would not have proposed a sacrificial kipper solution to sins that are beyond the reach of sacrificial kipper in the first place.⁷

Instead, Rillera prefers the "conciliatory votive gift" reading. Bailey's research identifies the most famous hilastērion in the ancient world as the Trojan Horse — an inscription on it read "a hilastērion from the Achaeans to Athena of Ilium."⁸ On this reading, God presents Jesus as a conciliatory gift — a concrete expression of reconciliation — rather than a sacrificial victim.

Where Rillera Has a Point

I want to be honest: Rillera raises some real questions here. He is right that the hilastērion debate is more complex than popular treatments suggest. He is right that we should let the lexical evidence speak rather than importing a meaning based on theological presuppositions. And Bailey's research on the word's usage in Greek inscriptions and literature is genuinely useful. The claim that hilastērion always refers to a concrete object rather than an abstract idea is a data point that must be reckoned with.

Rillera is also right to point out that Paul's argument in Romans does not neatly follow a standard Levitical kipper script. Paul's thought is more creative and wide-ranging than a simple one-to-one correspondence with Leviticus 16 would suggest.

Why the Traditional Reading Remains More Persuasive

That said, I believe the propitiatory and sacrificial reading of hilastērion in Romans 3:25 remains far more convincing than the "votive gift" proposal. Here is why.

First, the phrase "by his blood" (en tō autou haimati) in Romans 3:25 anchors the hilastērion in the world of sacrifice, not the world of Greco-Roman gift exchange. Blood is the language of sacrifice in both the Old Testament and the New. Votive gifts — statues, monuments, stelae — are not associated with blood. The presence of "by his blood" immediately after hilastērion creates a sacrificial atmosphere that the votive-gift reading struggles to account for. As Leon Morris argued decades ago, wherever the hilask- word group appears in a context involving blood, the meaning of atoning sacrifice is natural and expected.⁹

Second, the broader context of Romans 3:21–26 is about the resolution of a problem that is fundamentally judicial. Paul's argument is that all people — Jews and Gentiles alike — stand under the judgment of God because of sin (Rom 1:18–3:20). The question he is answering is: how can a righteous God justify sinners without compromising his own justice? The answer is the hilastērion. The entire framework of the passage is about God's dikaiosynē (δικαιοσύνη, "righteousness" or "justice") and how God can be both dikaios ("just") and dikaiōn ("the one who justifies") at the same time (3:26). A "conciliatory votive gift" does not answer this question. A propitiatory sacrifice does.¹⁰

Third, Rillera's argument that the sins of Romans 1–3 are "capital offenses" beyond the reach of kipper actually helps the substitutionary case rather than hurting it. If the sins Paul describes are so severe that the old sacrificial system could not address them, then the fact that God provides a hilastērion in Christ to deal with those very sins demonstrates that something far greater than the old system is at work. This is not an argument against sacrifice — it is an argument for a sacrifice that transcends and surpasses the Levitical system. Hebrews makes exactly this point: the blood of bulls and goats could never take away sins, but Christ's once-for-all offering accomplishes what the old system could only foreshadow (Heb 10:4, 10–12). The fact that the old kipper could not handle capital sins is precisely why a new, definitive hilastērion was needed.¹¹

Fourth, the anarthrous form of hilastērion is not the decisive blow Rillera thinks it is. As Douglas Moo and others have noted, anarthrous nouns in Greek do not necessarily lack specificity — context determines the reference. And even if "mercy seat" is not the primary meaning, the word still belongs within the hilask- word family, which is overwhelmingly associated with atoning and propitiatory action in the Septuagint (LXX). To rip hilastērion out of this semantic field and place it into Greco-Roman civic gift exchange requires a stronger case than Bailey and Rillera have made.¹²

Finally, Paul himself confirms the sacrificial framework just a few verses later. Romans 4:25 says Jesus "was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification." Romans 5:6–9 says Christ "died for the ungodly" and that "we have now been justified by his blood" and "saved by him from the wrath of God." This is unmistakably the language of a vicarious, sin-bearing death that satisfies divine justice. Romans 3:25 should be read within this broader Pauline framework, not isolated and reinterpreted through Greco-Roman inscriptions. Cross-reference Chapter 8 for the full exegetical treatment of Romans 3:21–26.¹³

Section 2: 2 Corinthians 5:21 and Galatians 3:13 — Solidarity Without Substitution?

Two of the most important Pauline texts for substitutionary atonement are 2 Corinthians 5:21 and Galatians 3:13. Rillera argues that neither of these texts is about sacrifice, atonement, or substitution. Instead, he reads them as expressions of Jesus's incarnational solidarity — his entering into the same cursed, sinful human condition — so that others might participate with him in his death and resurrection.

Rillera on 2 Corinthians 5:21

Paul writes: "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor 5:21, ESV).

Some scholars have argued that "sin" (hamartia, ἁμαρτία) here means "sin offering," since the LXX uses peri hamartias to refer to the purgation offering. Rillera dismisses this reading by pointing out that 2 Corinthians 5:21 lacks the peri preposition. As Scott Shauf explains, the absence of peri or any other indicator of sacrifice means that hamartia here simply means "sin," not "sin offering."¹⁴ Rillera also cites Dominika Kurek-Chomycz, who argues that there is "no explicit cultic imagery in vv. 14–21" — the dominant images are instead from banking (not counting trespasses) and politics (reconciliation from a diplomatic sphere).¹⁵

On Rillera's reading, 2 Corinthians 5:21 is about solidarity: Jesus fully identified with humanity's sinful condition so that, in union with him, believers might come to share in God's righteousness. The logic is participatory, not substitutionary.

Rillera on Galatians 3:13

Paul writes: "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us — for it is written, 'Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree'" (Gal 3:13, ESV).

Rillera acknowledges that some scholars (like Stephan Finlan) see a scapegoat allusion here, but he rejects this. Instead, drawing on Daniel Streett, he argues that "becoming a curse" is simply the language of experiencing reproach and scorn — the kind of covenant-curse language found in Jeremiah (cf. Jer 24:9; 42:18; 44:8, 12). Jesus "shared in the same condition plaguing those now under the curse of the law." This, Rillera says, "is the language of solidarity, not substitution." Jesus is like the prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel, who experienced the covenant curse alongside their people — not instead of them, but with them.¹⁶

Responding to Rillera

Rillera makes some fair observations. He is right that we should not automatically assume every occurrence of hamartia means "sin offering." He is right that the dominant images in 2 Corinthians 5:14–21 are reconciliation and new creation, not Levitical ritual. And he is right that the prophetic tradition provides genuine background for understanding Jesus's identification with Israel's cursed condition.

However, I believe his reading of these texts ultimately fails at several critical points.

First, regarding 2 Corinthians 5:21, even if hamartia does not mean "sin offering" in the technical Levitical sense, the verse still has an unmistakably substitutionary structure. Look at the logic carefully: "He made him who knew no sin to be sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." There is an exchange happening here — what scholars call the "interchange formula" or admirabile commercium (wonderful exchange). Christ becomes what he is not (sin) so that we become what we are not (righteous). This asymmetrical exchange implies far more than mere solidarity. In solidarity, two parties share the same condition. In an exchange, one party takes on what belongs to the other and gives back something different in return. That is the logic of substitution, not merely solidarity.¹⁷

Second, Rillera's claim that the hyper hēmōn ("for our sake" or "on our behalf") in these passages means only "for the benefit of" and never "in place of" is overstated. As we discussed at length in Chapter 2 (Atonement Terminology), the preposition hyper (ὑπέρ) has a range of meanings that includes both "for the benefit of" and "in place of," depending on context. In death contexts — where one person dies hyper another — the substitutionary sense is entirely natural. Paul uses this construction repeatedly: Christ "died for (hyper) our sins" (1 Cor 15:3), "died for (hyper) us" (1 Thess 5:10), "gave himself for (hyper) me" (Gal 2:20). As Gathercole has demonstrated, the classical parallels for vicarious death uniformly carry a substitutionary nuance: when someone dies hyper others, the others are spared the death that would otherwise fall on them.¹⁸

Third, and this is crucial, Rillera's reading of Galatians 3:13 does not adequately reckon with the word "redeemed" (exēgorasen, ἐξηγόρασεν). Paul does not say Jesus merely "shared in" the curse. He says Jesus "redeemed us from the curse of the law." The verb exagorazō means "to buy out," "to purchase," "to liberate by paying a price." It implies deliverance from something — a transfer from one state to another. If Jesus merely entered the same cursed condition as everyone else, the redemption language is unexplained. Why would entering the same condition as everyone else constitute a "buying out" from that condition? The logic only works if Jesus does something different from what the cursed ones experience — if he bears the curse in a unique, sin-bearing way that effects their liberation. That is substitutionary logic.¹⁹

Fourth, Rillera's comparison of Jesus to the prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel — who experienced the covenant curse alongside their people — breaks down at a critical point. Jeremiah and Ezekiel suffered with their people in exile, but their suffering did not redeem anyone. Nobody was liberated from the curse because Jeremiah went to Egypt or Ezekiel performed sign-acts. But Paul says Jesus's becoming-a-curse actually redeems those under the curse. Something more than mere solidarity is at work. Jesus does not just share in the curse — he absorbs it, exhausts it, and brings those under it out the other side through his resurrection. That "something more" is what the Christian tradition has rightly called substitution.²⁰

Finally, regarding the peri hamartias question: Rillera's claim that peri hamartiōn (plural) in 1 Peter 3:18 and peri hamartias in Romans 8:3 cannot be sin-offering references because the plural form is used is not as decisive as he suggests. The LXX itself is not perfectly consistent in its usage. And in Romans 8:3, Paul says God sent his Son "in the likeness of sinful flesh and peri hamartias" — the very phrase used for the sin offering in the LXX (e.g., Lev 4:3, 14, 25). The context in Romans 8:3 — God "condemned sin in the flesh" — strongly suggests a sacrificial-substitutionary framework: God dealt with sin judicially by condemning it in Christ's flesh. Whether or not peri hamartias technically means "sin offering" here, the logic is clearly that Christ bore the condemnation of sin in his body so that believers would be freed from that condemnation (Rom 8:1).²¹

Cross-reference Chapter 9 for the full exegetical treatment of both 2 Corinthians 5:14–21 and Galatians 3:13.

Section 3: 1 Peter 2:24, Isaiah 53, and the Suffering Servant

Rillera's treatment of 1 Peter 2:24 and Isaiah 53 is among the most developed sections of his Chapter 7. He argues that Peter's use of Isaiah 53 is purely paradigmatic — Jesus is the supreme example of the Suffering Servant, a model of righteous behavior in the face of injustice — with no substitutionary significance. Let me present his argument carefully before responding.

Rillera's Argument

Peter writes: "He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed" (1 Pet 2:24, ESV). Rillera makes several arguments against a substitutionary reading of this verse.

First, 1 Peter 2:21 explicitly frames Jesus's death as an "example" (hypogrammos, ὑπογραμμός) for believers to follow. The entire section (2:21–25) is about imitating Jesus's response to unjust suffering. This, Rillera argues, establishes the participatory and paradigmatic framework for everything that follows, including the Isaiah 53 quotation in 2:24.²²

Second, Rillera argues that the Suffering Servant tradition in Second Temple Judaism treats the Servant as a paradigm for all the suffering righteous, not as a unique substitutionary figure. He draws on H. L. Ginsberg's argument that the book of Daniel identifies the Maskilim ("enlighteners") in Daniel 11–12 with the Servant of Isaiah 52:13–53:12. The Wisdom of Solomon applies the Servant language to any righteous sufferer. Clement of Rome (1 Clement 16) quotes all of Isaiah 53 about Jesus not to teach substitution but to present Jesus as a "pattern" (hypogrammos — the same word as 1 Peter 2:21) of humility for believers to imitate.²³

Third, Rillera argues that "bore our sins" does not mean Jesus bore penal punishment as a substitute. Instead, drawing on Shauf, he contends that the language describes Jesus's enduring the consequences of others' sins — being treated unjustly — and handling it well. "Bearing sins" means enduring unjust treatment, not absorbing a penalty. Furthermore, Rillera points out that the idea of "bearing our sins" is something believers are called to do as well (cf. 1 Pet 3:16–18; 4:1, 13, 19). If sin-bearing is substitutionary, then believers should not be called to participate in it — but they are.²⁴

Fourth, and decisively for Rillera, the fact that 1 Peter calls believers to share in Christ's sufferings (4:1, 13) is incompatible with substitution by Gathercole's own definition. If substitution means Jesus died "instead of us" so that we are "excluded from doing whatever it is Jesus did as our substitute," then calling believers to follow Jesus to the cross contradicts substitution.²⁵

Responding to Rillera

Rillera's argument has genuine force. The paradigmatic dimension of 1 Peter's use of Isaiah 53 is real. Jesus is indeed presented as an example, and believers are indeed called to share in his sufferings. I do not dispute any of that. What I dispute is Rillera's conclusion that this paradigmatic function excludes a substitutionary function.

First, notice the purpose clause in 1 Peter 2:24: "He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that (hina, ἵνα) we might die to sins and live for righteousness." This is not a mere statement of example. It is a statement of causal efficacy. Christ's sin-bearing produces a result — it enables believers to die to sins and live for righteousness. An example inspires imitation, but it does not cause a change in the imitator. Peter is saying something stronger: Christ's sin-bearing accomplishes something objective that makes a new way of life possible for believers. This causal sequence — Christ acts, and as a result we are changed — is the logic of substitutionary atonement, not mere moral example.²⁶

Second, the language of "bearing sins" (anapherō tas hamartias, ἀναφέρω τὰς ἁμαρτίας) in the LXX tradition carries strong substitutionary overtones. In Leviticus 16:22, the scapegoat "bears" (nasa, נָשָׂא; LXX lambanō) Israel's iniquities into the wilderness. In Isaiah 53:4, the Servant "has borne our griefs" (nasa), and in Isaiah 53:12, he "bore the sin of many" (nasa). The language of one party "bearing" the sins of another is deeply embedded in Israel's substitutionary sacrificial framework. Rillera acknowledges the verbal parallel but denies the conceptual connection. I think the burden of proof falls on Rillera here. Peter is quoting Isaiah 53, a passage that uses sacrificial language — including the term asham (אָשָׁם, "guilt offering") in 53:10. To claim that Peter cites this passage but strips it of its sacrificial and substitutionary meaning requires strong evidence, and Rillera does not provide it.²⁷

Third, the fact that Shauf says "sacrificial victims did not bear sins" and therefore 1 Peter 2:24 "simply does not work as a sacrifice" is a narrow claim that depends on a very specific definition of how Levitical sacrifice functioned. While it is true that in the Levitical system the slaughtered animal is not said to "bear" sins in the same way the scapegoat does, the broader theological category of an innocent party taking on the burden of the guilty party's sin is exactly what Isaiah 53 describes — and it is this broader category that Peter draws on. The Suffering Servant is not a one-to-one replica of any single Levitical sacrifice; he transcends and fulfills the entire sacrificial system in a way that combines elements of the sin offering, the guilt offering, and the scapegoat.²⁸

Fourth, and most importantly, the claim that substitution and exemplarity are mutually exclusive is a false dichotomy — and it is one that the text itself contradicts. Peter says Jesus is both an example to follow (2:21) and the one who bore our sins to produce a result in us (2:24). The text does not choose between these. It holds them together. Christ first does something unique that only he can do — he bears sins, enabling forgiveness and transformation — and then calls believers to follow the pattern of his suffering. The uniqueness and the paradigmatic function are not mutually exclusive. They are sequentially related: the substitutionary act creates the participatory reality. As I. Howard Marshall has argued, the "in Christ" framework presupposes the substitutionary act — you cannot participate in what Christ has done unless Christ first did it on your behalf.²⁹

Cross-reference Chapter 11 for the full treatment of 1 Peter and the Petrine witness to the atonement.

Section 4: Hebrews — "Participatory Atonement" vs. Substitutionary Sacrifice

Rillera devotes his entire Chapter 6 to the Epistle to the Hebrews and 1 John — the only two New Testament books that, by his own admission, explicitly associate Jesus with the kipper (atoning sacrifice) system. This is important to note: Rillera himself acknowledges that Hebrews has a "thick atonement theology."³⁰ His argument is not that Hebrews lacks atonement theology but that even in Hebrews, the atonement is "participatory" rather than "substitutionary." He contends that Hebrews depicts believers as "co-high priests" and "co-purgation sacrifices" with Jesus — sharing in his priestly ministry and sacrificial offering rather than being passive recipients of a substitutionary act done on their behalf.³¹

Rillera's Argument

Rillera makes several claims about Hebrews. First, he argues that atonement theology is not part of the basic gospel proclamation but a later, "advanced" theological development. The author of Hebrews explicitly acknowledges this by calling his priestly christology "solid food" for the "mature," not "milk" for beginners (Heb 5:10–6:3). This suggests that relating Jesus to the kipper system required significant theological innovation.³²

Second, Rillera argues (drawing on David Moffitt) that the atoning element in Hebrews is not Jesus's death per se but his resurrected and ascended "indestructible life" (Heb 7:16) bodily present in the heavenly holy of holies. Since Levitical sacrifice is about conveying "life" (blood) into God's presence — not about death — the purgative element is the resurrection-life of Jesus presented before God, not the act of dying on the cross.³³

Third, and most importantly for Rillera's argument, he claims that Hebrews pushes beyond a substitutionary framework by depicting believers as participants in Jesus's priestly and sacrificial work. Jesus's solidarity with "Abraham's seed" (Heb 2:9–18) enables their participation with him as co-purgation sacrifices (13:10–13). The author of Hebrews, Rillera says, is describing "participatory atonement" or "solidarity atonement theology" — not substitutionary atonement.³⁴

Responding to Rillera

Rillera's reading of Hebrews is creative and raises interesting questions. He is right that Hebrews has a rich participatory and corporate dimension. He is right that the resurrection and ascension — not just the death — are integral to Hebrews's atonement theology. And his observation that the author of Hebrews considers his priestly christology to be "advanced teaching" is well taken.

However, I believe his claim that Hebrews teaches "participatory" rather than "substitutionary" atonement is a false choice. Hebrews holds both together, and the substitutionary dimension is foundational.

Before getting to the specific arguments, let me address Rillera's claim that atonement theology is "advanced teaching" and therefore not part of the basic gospel. Even if that is true — and the author of Hebrews does seem to consider his priestly christology a development beyond the basics — this does not mean the teaching is peripheral or optional. Many central Christian doctrines require theological maturity to fully articulate. The doctrine of the Trinity is not "basic" in the sense that new converts immediately understand it, but it is foundational to everything Christians believe. The same could be said of Hebrews's priestly atonement theology. The fact that it required careful reflection to develop does not make it less true or less important. It may well be that the atonement theology of Hebrews is an unpacking of what was always implicit in the gospel proclamation — just as the Nicene Creed unpacks what was always implicit in the apostolic confession that "Jesus is Lord." Advanced teaching is still teaching, and it carries the full authority of Scripture.

First, Hebrews explicitly uses substitutionary language. Jesus "offered himself" (7:27; 9:14, 25–28; 10:10, 12) as a sacrifice for sins "once for all" (ephapax, ἐφάπαξ). The "once for all" language is crucial. It implies a definitive, unrepeatable act that accomplishes what no other sacrifice could. If the atonement in Hebrews were purely participatory — if we all share in the offering — then the "once for all" language is puzzling. Why "once" if everyone participates? The natural reading is that Jesus does something unique and unrepeatable in his high priestly sacrifice — he offers the definitive sacrifice that renders all other offerings unnecessary. That is the logic of a substitutionary act, not merely a participatory pattern.³⁵

Second, Hebrews 9:28 says: "Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him." The phrase "to bear the sins of many" (eis to pollōn anenenkein hamartias) is a clear allusion to Isaiah 53:12: "he bore the sin of many." Rillera cannot consistently deny substitutionary import to Isaiah 53 language in 1 Peter 2:24 and then remain silent about its appearance in the very New Testament book he identifies as having the most developed kipper theology. If Isaiah 53 is merely "paradigmatic" and non-substitutionary (as Rillera argues), why does Hebrews apply its sin-bearing language specifically and exclusively to Jesus's unique, once-for-all sacrifice?³⁶

Third, Hebrews 2:9 says Jesus "tasted death for everyone" (hyper pantos, ὑπὲρ παντός). This is combined with 2:14–15, which says that "through death he destroyed the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and delivered all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery." Here we have a vicarious act of dying that liberates others from death's power. Jesus does not merely "go ahead" of others into death — he enters death in order to destroy its power and liberate those enslaved by it. The Christus Victor dimension (destroying the devil) and the substitutionary dimension (dying for everyone so they might be freed) are held together in a single passage.³⁷

Fourth, while Rillera's claim that believers become "co-high priests" and "co-purgation sacrifices" with Jesus is an interesting reading of Hebrews 13:10–13, it is far from the clear meaning of those verses. Hebrews 13:10–13 speaks of believers going "outside the camp" with Jesus and bearing his reproach — language of social identification and solidarity, not of sharing in a priestly sacrificial offering. To read this as believers becoming "co-purgation sacrifices" goes considerably beyond what the text says. More importantly, even if some participatory dimension is present in Hebrews 13, it does not negate the substitutionary dimension that dominates chapters 7–10. The participatory call to "go outside the camp" is a response to and consequence of the once-for-all sacrifice, not a replacement for it.³⁸

Cross-reference Chapter 10 for the full treatment of the Epistle to the Hebrews and its atonement theology.

Section 5: Mark 10:45 — Lytron and the Liberating Substitute

In Mark 10:45, Jesus says: "For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (ESV). The Greek reads: lytron anti pollōn (λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν) — "a ransom in place of many." Rillera argues in Chapter 7 that this text is not about sacrifice or atonement because the lytron word group is "never used in a sacrificial register in the LXX."³⁹ Instead, lytron is a financial and economic term — "the price of liberation" — associated with ransoming slaves and purchasing freedom. On Rillera's reading, Jesus is a liberator, not a substitute.

Furthermore, Rillera argues that the context of Mark 10:35–45 undermines a substitutionary reading. Jesus tells James and John that they too "will drink the cup that I drink" and "be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized" (10:39). He tells all the disciples to "take up their cross and follow me" (8:34). If Jesus's death were substitutionary, Rillera reasons, the disciples should be spared from the cross, not called to it.⁴⁰

Responding to Rillera

Rillera is correct that lytron is primarily a financial term, not a Levitical sacrificial term. The word belongs to the world of ransom, purchase, and liberation — not to the world of burnt offerings and blood manipulation. I grant this point.

However, Rillera's treatment does not adequately reckon with the preposition anti (ἀντί) in this verse. The phrase is lytron anti pollōn — a ransom in place of many. The preposition anti is one of the clearest substitutionary prepositions in the Greek language. It means "in place of," "instead of," "in exchange for." When a lytron (ransom price) is given anti (in place of) many, the natural meaning is that the ransom is paid as a substitute — the price stands where the many would otherwise stand. This is the logic of substitution embedded in the very grammar of the sentence.⁴¹

As I argued in Chapter 7, the question is not whether lytron is a sacrificial term. The question is whether the ransom language implies substitution — and the presence of anti makes the answer clear. A ransom is, by definition, something paid in place of someone else. If I am kidnapped and someone pays my ransom, that payment stands in my place — I go free because the price has been paid. That is substitution, whether or not we call it "sacrifice."⁴²

The ransom language is about liberation, yes — but it is liberation achieved by means of a substitutionary act. The two concepts are not in tension. Christ gives his life in place of the many, and as a result, the many are liberated. Liberation and substitution are not competing categories; they describe different aspects of the same saving act.

As for the fact that the disciples are called to "take up their cross" — this is the same argument Rillera makes across multiple texts, and the answer is the same across all of them. The substitutionary dimension of Christ's death addresses the judicial consequences of sin (condemnation, guilt, the curse of the law). The participatory dimension — our "taking up the cross" — addresses the experiential reality of dying to sin's power in daily life (sanctification, discipleship, conformity to Christ). These are not the same "death." Christ bore the penalty of sin so we do not have to. But we are still called to die to sin's power in our lives. The substitutionary and participatory realities operate at different levels and address different problems. (See Appendix H for a full discussion of this distinction.)⁴³

Cross-reference Chapter 7 for the full exegesis of Mark 10:45 and the discussion of anti vs. hyper in Chapter 2.

Section 6: Conclusion — The Pattern Behind the Readings

We have now traced Rillera's treatment of the "usual suspects" — the New Testament passages most commonly cited in support of substitutionary atonement. Across every text, we find the same exegetical pattern at work:

Step 1: Rillera acknowledges that the text could be read in a substitutionary way and that many scholars have done so.

Step 2: He appeals to the wider participatory context of the author's theology — the call to imitate Christ, to take up the cross, to share in his sufferings, to be co-crucified.

Step 3: He concludes that because participation is present, substitution must be absent. Substitution and participation are treated as mutually exclusive categories.

The problem is consistently at step three. The assumption that participation excludes substitution is not demonstrated by Rillera — it is simply asserted. And it is precisely this assumption that the New Testament texts themselves contradict. First Peter holds together substitution ("he bore our sins," 2:24) and participation ("leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps," 2:21). Paul holds together substitution ("made him to be sin," 2 Cor 5:21) and participation ("we are ambassadors for Christ," 5:20). Hebrews holds together substitution ("offered once to bear the sins of many," 9:28) and participation ("let us go to him outside the camp," 13:13). In every case, the New Testament writers do not choose between substitution and participation. They hold them together — because they belong together.⁴⁴

I want to close on an irenic note. Rillera's emphasis on participation, solidarity, and union with Christ in his death is not wrong. It is genuinely important, and it is too often neglected by advocates of substitutionary atonement who treat the cross as a merely forensic transaction with no implications for discipleship. Rillera is right that the cross calls us to take up our own crosses. He is right that substitutionary atonement, if reduced to a cold legal exchange with no participatory dimension, becomes truncated and incomplete.

But the answer to a truncated substitution is not to abandon substitution. It is to recover the full biblical picture: Christ in our place, bearing what we could not bear, and then Christ inviting us into union with him, sharing in the pattern and power of his death and resurrection. The New Testament gives us both dimensions — substitution and participation — and we impoverish the gospel when we sacrifice either one.

As we will argue more fully in Appendix H, the right formulation is not Rillera's "place-sharing, not place-taking," but rather "place-taking that enables place-sharing." Jesus first takes our place (substitution) and then gives us a share in his place (participation). That is the pattern of the gospel, and it runs through every text we have examined in this appendix.⁴⁵

There is a final observation worth making. Rillera himself acknowledges that Jesus's death is "soteriologically unique" — that Jesus does something no one else can do. He insists on this even while rejecting substitution. But if Jesus's death accomplishes something that only Jesus can accomplish, and if that accomplishment benefits others who did not and could not do it themselves, then the logic is functionally substitutionary whether or not the label is used. When someone does something unique and unrepeatable on behalf of others who cannot do it for themselves, and those others receive the benefit of that act — that is what the Christian tradition has always meant by substitution. Rillera's rejection of the word does not change the reality it describes. We can debate the label, but the underlying logic — Christ doing for us what we could not do for ourselves — is woven into the very fabric of the New Testament's witness to the cross.