[E]thnocentrism is the belief that one's own culture is superior to others, which is often accompanied by a tendency to make invidious comparisons. In a weaker form, ethnocentrism is the tendency to look at other cultures through the filter of one's own cultural presuppositions. This can lead to a failure to appreciate the different frames of reference within which members of other cultures operate. . . ⁱ

It is the so-called “weaker form” that usually affects us. We make assumptions about other people and their concepts that they may not recognize as their own. But this is not a new phenomenon. People of the first century were just as likely to filter other cultures through their own presuppositions. Paul himself experienced this problem with Jew and Gentile converts; each group approached the Gospel from different cultural backgrounds (e.g., regard or lack thereof for various food laws, days, new moons, circumcision, etc).

From a social science perspective, the Gospel among the Greeks is itself an example of cultural diffusion. This is the process by which a trait, material object, idea (Gospel), or behavior pattern is spread from one society to another. In addition to missionaries like Paul, diffusion can occur when people from different cultures live in close proximity. They intermarry, exchange goods, technology, or even religion.

In this paper, we are going to examine how early post-biblical (note the prefix) Christians filtered New Testament eschatology through their own cultural presuppositions—those values and beliefs they had prior to contact with the Good News. Said another way, we are going to consider how the “weaker” form of ethnocentrism affected Christian thought, specifically the concept we now call hell. To establish a historical context, we will survey otherworld traditions from various times and places noting the diffusion of certain commonalities. We will find that there is a direct line from current notions of hell back to its origins in the mythological underworld. Based on the literary evidence, it is clear that post-biblical Christian writers in the Greco-Roman world combined elements of biblical eschatology with what we now call Classical Mythology. Although its sources have been sanitized by time and tradition, this is the hell that many of us read back into scripture. In other words, the ethnocentrism of early Greek Christians has become our own. But scripture paints a very different picture once our cultural presuppositions are exposed. We need to do a better job of filling in the blanks.

The Otherworld Journey

In many ancient cultures, the boundary between the world of the living and that of the dead was permeable. Otherworld journeys appear in many forms: Buddhist, Persian, Egyptian, Hebrew, Greco-Roman. For the Greeks, Hades was not a “spiritual” realm; it was believed to be accessible through various openings in the earth. In mythology, heroes would venture to the other side for a number of reasons. Orpheus went to Hades to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, who had died of a snake bite. One of Heracles' labors involved capturing Cerberus, the three-headed hound that guarded the entrance (and exit) of the underworld. Theseus and Perithous tried to kidnap Persephone, the wife of Hades, to make her Perithous' wife.

In Homer and Vergil, heroes visit the underworld as part of a larger quest. In the earliest Christian tradition, the otherworld is the main theme rather than a subsection of the story. These visions are eschatological—apocalyptic; they assume futurism. Medieval visions drew from the earlier pool of Christian and pagan otherworld journeys. They recount tales of torment in hell which were used for the edification of the church.

In many cases, especially in Christian writings, the soul of the visionary is separated from the body. The seer is usually accompanied by a guide who both informs and protects. Aeneas has the Sybil, Dante has Vergil. In Judeo-Christian otherworld journeys, the guide is typically an angel. In the literature that we will touch on, the otherworld geography (divisions of the righteous and sinners) is typically the same since they share common sources. Likewise, the vocabulary is common among them. Fire and torture are standard fare as is the recounting of sins committed. We'll encounter a few of the more famous sinners in a number different works dating from Homer up to and including pseudo-Pauline literature.

Concepts of the Otherworld in Early Hebrew Literature

The afterlife in the ancient world is a complex subject. There is no single view. Instead, various traditions mingle together throughout the centuries. Since the Hebrews were in direct contact with other cultures, they did have ample opportunity to incorporate foreign otherworld traditions into their concept of Sheol—whether Egyptian or Babylonian—but they resisted.

The Egyptian Book of the Dead was a handbook for the recently deceased. It served as a guide to the otherworld explaining the perils that one would encounter on the trek to judgment and beyond. At death, one's soul, depicted as a bird with a human head, and life force would be ferried across the sky toward the West by Agen and Mahaf in the boat of Ra. There were seven gates that one must pass, each with its own gatekeeper, watcher and herald. In order to pass the dead must consult his guidebook to evoke the names of each. After transversing the portals of the house of Osiris, Anubis, the Egyptian psychopomp (soul-conductor), would guide the deceased to the Hall of Justice. At this point, one can plead his case for continued existence before the judge Osiris. However, Thoh, the god of wisdom, acts as prosecutor, so dolts don't have much of a chance. At the close of the trial, Anubis will take the heart of the defendant and place it in the Scales of Justice. It is then weighed against a feather from the headdress of the goddess of truth, Maat. Should the scale fail to tip in the defendant's favor, Ammit, who crouched beneath the scale, would devour the heart. Such an outcome results in the end of one's existence. Other perils awaited those who passed, but we do not need to belabor the point: the Egyptian otherworld is not even close to Hebrew Sheol.

Gordon and Rendsburg note:

This fully developed [Egyptian] concept of a personal judgment, whereby each man enters paradise if his character and life on earth warrant it, appears quite remarkable when we consider that centuries later there was still no such idea in Mesopotamia and Israel. The Babylonians and Assyrians never developed it. And in Israel, throughout nearly all of the Bible, the afterworld was considered a dreary underground place called Sheol, where good and bad alike led an eventless existence. Indeed the later Jewish, Christian and Islamic concept of the afterlife, as one in which the individual is rewarded or punished depending on his early record, is more akin to Egyptian views than to those of the Hebrew Bible. ⁱⁱ

These so-called Egyptian elements are more recognizable to us in Grecian garb. As we shall see, both intertestamental Jewish and post-biblical Christian writings borrowed quite liberally from Greek mythology, which itself drew from Near Eastern sources.

Equally divergent from biblical Sheol is the epic of the mythical king of Uruk, Gilgamesh. The version presented here, compiled around one-thousand B.C., was discovered in the library of Ashurbanipal in Nineveh; although fragments dating back to the second millennium B.C. are extant.

This tale gives a detailed account of the world beyond. Gilgamesh's companion Enkidu relates his vision of the underworld and its inhabitants, a premonition of his own death:

There is a house whose peoples sit in darkness; dust is their food and clay their meat. They are clothed like birds with wings for covering, they see no light, they sit in darkness. I entered the house of dust and I saw the kings of the earth, their crowns put away for ever; rulers and princes, all those who once wore kingly crowns and ruled the world in days of old. They who had stood in the place of the gods like Anu and Enlil, stood now like servants to fetch baked meats in the house of dust, to carry cooked meat and cold water from the water-skin. ⁱⁱⁱ

Enkidu eventually met this fate. But Gilgamesh refused to bury his companion and instead lamented over his body for seven days and seven nights hoping that Enkidu would rise again. “Finally, after watching his body with pious devotion, he notices a worm on the corpse and realizes that death takes its victims beyond recall. The awful reality of death fills Gilgamesh with fear for, since he is not completely divine, he too must die. Hence he becomes obsessed with the drive to obtain immortality.” ^iv

The Hebrews rejected such otherworld notions—or at least did not record them as their own. In light of that statement, there is one biblical text that should be mentioned at this point.

Isaiah 14 contains the most explicit details of Sheol in the Old Testament—but is it really Sheol? Yahweh's prophet Isaiah was told to “taunt the king of Babylon” (Is 14.4), and, it would seem, he did so using Babylonian otherworld concepts.

Sheol below is stirred up about you, ready to meet you when you arrive. It rouses the spirits of the dead for you, all the former leaders of the earth; it makes all the former kings of the nations rise from their thrones. All of them respond to you, saying: 'You too have become weak like us! You have become just like us! Your splendor has been brought down to Sheol, as well as the sound of your stringed instruments. You lie on a bed of maggots, with a blanket of worms over you. (Net, Is. 14.9-11)

As in Gilgamesh, the kings of the earth have been made low; it is a reversal of fortunes. The Babylonian king was no more immortal than Gilgamesh, and he too would be food for worms. It would be a mistake to read the above as Isaiah's view of underworld. Isaiah's taunt no more reflects his infernology than the subsequent section reflects his ouranology. Read the former in light of the latter; these verses are contrasting Babylonian otherworld motifs:

Look how you have fallen from the sky, O shining one, son of the dawn! You have been cut down to the ground, O conqueror of the nations! You said to yourself, “I will climb up to the sky. Above the stars of El I will set up my throne. I will rule on the mountain of assembly on the remote slopes of Zaphon. I will climb up to the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High!” But you were brought down to Sheol, to the remote slopes of the pit. (NET, Is. 14.12-15)

A little mythology is helpful here. In Ugaritic texts, Mount Zaphon is the equivalent of the Greek Mount Olympus; it was home of the gods. What is Isaiah saying? The would be god-king of Babylon desired to set himself on the sacred mountain, above the astral deities—on par with the “Most High,” which in this context refers to the god El.^v Yet Isaiah insists that the arrogant king would be brought low, like his predecessors of old. Even Turner, whose work betrays an affinity for parallelomania, makes an insightful observation with reference to Isaiah 14: “Its message is exactly the same as the one Enkidu reported to Gilgamesh, that great kings are brought low in Ereshkigal's [underworld] domain. Indeed, in sending the Babylonian king to a Babylonian Hell, the prophet appears to be making a grim joke.” ^vi We are inclined to agree. After all, the prophet was instructed to “taunt the king of Babylon.” “This song uses the metric pattern of a dirge but parodies the genre by mocking rather than eulogizing the dead.” ^vii It is unwise to build an “underworld” doctrine around parody. Isaiah, like Elijah among the prophets of Baal, was being cheeky.

In contrast to the above, the Hebrew concept of Sheol is unique—and relatively nondescript by Ancient Near Eastern standards. Walton comments: “[Sheol] has no known antecedent in other cultures or religions of the ancient world. . .” ^viii He summarizes the Hebrew netherworld:

1. Those in Sheol were viewed as separated from God (Pss. 6:6; 88:3, 10-12; Isa. 38:18), though as previously mentioned, God has access to Sheol.

2. Sheol is never referred to as the abode of the wicked alone.

3. While Sheol is never identified as the place where all go, the burden of proof rests on those who suggest that there was an alternative.

4. Sheol is a place of negation: no possessions, memory, knowledge, joy

5. It is not viewed as a place where judgment or punishment takes place, though it is considered an act of God's judgment to be sent there rather than remaining alive. Thus, it is inaccurate to translate sheol as “hell,” as the latter is by definition a place of punishment.

6. There is no reference suggesting varying compartments in Sheol. “Deepest” Sheol (e.g., Deut. 32:22) refers to its location (“beneath”) rather than a lower compartment. ^ix

This summary is not intended to be an exhaustive treatment of Sheol. We mention these features (or lack of features) because there is a stark contrast between Old Testament Sheol and the explicit details we will encounter in the texts to follow—not to mention what we have encountered already. In other words, in this presentation we are more concerned with what Sheol was not rather than what it was. There are no hints of division based moral code, or soul guides (psychopomps), or underworld travelers, or rewards and punishments. At this point, we may note that the Hebrew view of the otherworld was neutral.

Concepts of the Otherworld in Greek Literature

Homer's underworld is also what we might call neutral. The fate of all was the same. Or as Lucian through Menippus phrased it: “Hades is a democracy; one man is as good as another here.” ^x When people died: “Their souls passed beneath the earth and went down into the house of Hades; but their bones, when the skin is rotted about them, crumble away on the dark earth under parching Sirius.” ^xi Hermes, as the conductor of souls, or psychopomp, would ensure that the recently deceased found their way to the underworld.

In Book XI of the Odyssey, the hero Odysseus gains access to the world of the dead by means of animal sacrifice. The souls of men and women emerge and make their way to the sacrificial trench to drink the blood of the animal, thereby gaining the strength to speak. Many of Odysseus' companions who had fallen in the Trojan War appear—still wearing their armor, still bloody. Their existence is cheerless, but not torturous.

Certain mortals could escape this fate, if they happened to be related to Zeus—either by birth or by marriage. For example, Menelaus would not taste death as he was the husband of Helen, Zeus' daughter. The gods would instead transport him to the Elysium, also called the Isles of the Blessed, which were believed to be far in the West at this time. There Menelaus would enjoy immortality without snow, or hail, or rain, or hard labor—just a pleasant wind “that sings softly from the sea, and gives fresh life to all men.” Sounds a lot like Hawaii. (Odyssey 4.563)

Meanwhile, back at the sacrificial trench, Odysseus does see certain beings who are undergoing punishment. Even if this portion is not a later interpolation, those who are being punished are of divine decent: Tantalus and the “tantalizing” feast and drink that are eternally just out of reach, Sisyphus who roles a great stone up a hill only to have it roll down again, and the Titan Tityus stretched out over several acres of ground while vultures dig at his liver. Yet for the vast majority of mortals, from the hoi polloi to heroes, the afterlife was neutral.

However, the underworld began to take on a more sinister character. Ironically, Homer and Hesiod are victims of this branch of otherworld tradition. They do not experience the neutral existence that they espoused. Recounting an otherworld journey, Diogenes Laertius reports that “when [Pythagoras] descended to the shades below, he saw the soul of Hesiod bound to a brazen pillar and gibbering; and that of Homer suspended from a tree, and snakes around it, as a punishment for the things that they had said of the gods.” ^xii Here we see the influence of the Eleusinian Mysteries and 'Orphism.' The afterlife is no longer neutral as one now had the opportunity to secure a better existence—and avoid punishment—either by devoting oneself to a god (or goddesses), initiation, or, in Plato's view, through the pursuit of wisdom.

Mysteries

Many details of mystery cult rituals are lost to us. Martin notes, “The most eloquent proof of the sanctity attached to the Mysteries of Demeter and Kore is that throughout the thousand years during which the rites were celebrated, we know of no one who ever revealed the secret.” ^xiii

Demeter was a fertility goddess. In Latin, she was known as Ceres, from which we get the word cereal. Her daughter Persephone (Kore, or maiden) was abducted by Hades, god of the underworld, and taken below to be his bride. Demeter searched and searched for Persephone but could not find her. During her quest the earth went barren. Eventually, Zeus intervened, even though he was an accomplice to the kidnapping. But Hades was sneaky. He gave Persephone a pomegranate to eat which, for whatever reason, meant should could not leave the underworld forever. As a result, Demeter and Hades shared “joint custody” of Persephone. Part of the year, the earth produced its crops—when Persephone was with Demeter. The other part of the year, the land would be barren—when Persephone was with Hades in the underworld. ^xiv

This etiologcial myth was also the basis for the celebrations in Eleusis. Despite the secretiveness of the rites, their influence was widespread: “So important were the Eleusinian Mysteries that the states of Greece honored an international agreement setting a period of fifty-five days for guaranteed safe transit through their territories for travelers to and from the festival.” ^xv

We know that the aim of such festivities, at least in part, was to secure a better existence in the afterlife. Burkert wrote:

The Hipponion gold leaf. . .depicts [initiates] and [worshipers of Dionysus] in the netherworld proceeding on the sacred way toward eternal bliss, just as the Eleusinian [initiates] are still celebrating their joyous festival in Hades, according to Aristophanes' Frogs. . .

Initiation was the way to go if one wished to secure a better death after life:

“Happy they all on account of the [initiation ceremony] that free from suffering,” Pindar says in one of his Dirges. ^xvi

But those who failed to be initiated in life were doomed to such vain labors as carrying water in a sieve.

Plato

In the Republic, Plato recounts how at the doors of the rich

wandering priests and seers present a hubbub of books Musaios and Orpheus, offspring of the Moon and the Muses, as they say, by which they conduct sacrifice [bloodless, no doubt], persuading not just individuals but also cities that there are forms of release and purifications from wrongdoing through sacrifices and play, effective both during life and also after death; they call initiations—they free us from evil there [in the underworld], but if we do not sacrifice a terrible fate awaits us. ^xvii

Sophocles paints a similar picture:

Thrice blessed are those mortals who witness these rites before passing to Hades. To them alone is life granted there; for the rest there is nothing but evil. ^xviii

Plato's take is somewhat different in that philosophy rather than initiation is the means to a rewarding afterlife. Plato's view assumes the immortality of the soul and its cyclical rebirth. The Vision of Er illuminates the process of the soul's search for truth. Er died in battle, but he woke up twelve days later on his funeral pyre. He then reported all that his soul had seen and heard in his otherworld journey. To briefly summarize: When a person dies, his soul is chastised for wrongful deeds with an aim toward purification. “. . .for every wrong which they had done to any one they suffered tenfold.” ^xix But their punishment is corrective, and temporary. ^xx Those who are curable receive their due penalty and, when the cycle is complete, attempt to choose a better existence in the next reincarnation. After a drink from the river Lethe (Forgetfulness), the soul is off to a new body.

The lover of wisdom can escape this cycle and, ultimately, the prison of the body. However, the incurably wicked are taken out of the cycle and cast into in Tartarus. Eternal torment, which was reserved for Titans and descendants of the gods in the poets, has been opened up for mortals—those “private individuals who had become great criminals.” ^xxi Punishments include being bound, flayed, dragged along the roadside, and carded on horns like wool. Here, unlike Homer, we have a distinction based on a moral code as well as reward and punishment.

Concepts of the Otherworld in Latin Literature

The Aeneid of Vergil, from the first century B.C., incorporates several of the elements discussed thus far. Like Odysseus, Aeneas performs an animal sacrifice to gain access to the underworld. Guided by the Cumaean Sibyl, Aeneas is witness to three divisions of the hereafter. In one location, we find the souls of infants, those who were condemned to die under false accusations, and other innocents who are neither blessed nor cursed. This is the neutral existence in the spirit of Homer. Aeneas also finds those who are undergoing punishment in Tartarus, both Titans and mortals. Being a decent fellow, Aeneas was forbidden to step foot into the pit of despair, but he was allowed to look through the open gate. He saw the usual suspects like Sisyphus and Tantalus, both of whom we will encounter yet again—in Christian works. The Sybil explains: “Even if I had a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths and a voice of iron, I yet could not include every shape of crime or list every punishment's name.” ^xxii Vergil's separation of the righteous and the wicked recalls the moral element that was present in both Plato and the mysteries. In fact, the crimes listed by both Plato and Vergil are essentially the same: dishonoring one's parents or lineage, betrayal, murder, etc.

The virtuous escape this unpleasantness and enjoy blessedness in the Elysian Fields. Anchises, Aeneas' father, resides here even though he was a mortal and not related to Zeus. The standards for admission have become more relaxed at this later date. Anchises tells his son that before a soul can be admitted to Elysium, it must be cleansed through punishment by means of wind, water or fire. When a thousand years of bliss has passed, the soul is made to drink from the river Lethe (Forgetfulness), so that it begins to long for a body again. Obviously, Vergil owes much to Plato's Myth of Er.

Summary of Hades

Greek and Latin views of the afterlife were varied and complex. We find everything from nothingness, which we did not discuss, to reincarnation with rewards and punishments sprinkled in between. This is only a sampling of the available literature, but these works are well-known and their influence will be seen as we progress. At the moment, we can summarize some of the key features:

Concepts of the Otherworld in Later Jewish Literature

The notion of the otherworld in Greek and Latin literature is certainly more explicit in its details than the Hebrew Bible. A comparative study of Hades in Jewish sources after Alexander's conquest betrays the fact that the later Hebrew underworld had more in common with Greek Hades than Hebrew Sheol. For the Hebrews, cultural diffusion had more of an impact than ethnocentrism. That is, rather than overlaying biblical Sheol on Hades, Hades supplanted the biblical view of Sheol. As a result, the vagueness of Sheol in the Hebrew Bible is embellished during this period. Hebrew writers borrow terms, stories, and various themes from Greek writers to fill in the blanks left by their own countrymen. The otherworld journey is one of the duplicated themes.

I Enoch (Second Century BC – First Century AD) contains many traces of Greek myth. In this tale Enoch takes an otherworld journey guided by angelic beings—an event, of course, which is completely unaccounted for in the Hebrew scriptures. The story certainly contains Jewish features, but the contact with other sources is plain.

Charles notes:

[Chapters 17-19] . . . are full of Greek elements, e.g. Pyriphlegethon, Styx, Acheron and Cocytus (xvii. 5, 6); the Ocean Stream (xvii. 5, 7, 8; xviii. 10); Hades in the West (xvii. 6). ^xxiii

These rivers, of course, are in the Greek underworld, not Sheol.

The author of Enoch spends several chapters retelling of the Genesis 6 material—the sons of God mating with the daughters of men and their offspring. This obscure section of Genesis is rewritten in great detail. Actually, “rewritten” may not be the correct word—perhaps “merged” is better.

One of the more obvious additions is the role of Azazel, a great angel, who is called on the carpet for his part in corrupting mankind at this early stage. Azazel is said to have “taught men to make swords, and knives, and shields, and breastplates, and made known to them the metals of the earth and the art of working them...” (8:1) God was not pleased that the great angel had given mankind this knowledge. Enoch proclaimed this against Azazel: “...a severe sentence has gone forth [from God] to put you in bonds.” (13:1) His liver wasn't pecked out, but the similarities between Azazel and Prometheus are evident. Prometheus stole more than fire. In addition to the gifts attributed to Azazel by author(s) of Enoch, the Titan also gave mankind medicine, interpretation of dreams, and enlightenment. Prometheus extols his deeds in Aeschylus' play Prometheus Bound:

Beneath the earth, man's hidden blessing, copper, iron, silver, and gold – will anyone claim to have discovered them before I did? No one, I am very sure, who wants to speak truly and to the purpose. One brief word will tell the whole story: all arts that mortals have come from Prometheus. ^xxiv

Prometheus angered Zeus with his gifts to mankind. Prometheus, like Azazel, was bound as a result. However, Azazel was not bound to a rock but in a great abyss, as were the Titans.

On that same note, in Chapter 20 of I Enoch we find mention of that titanic prison, Tartarus. We can add to this growing list of filched features the three divisions of the dead, as in Vergil, accompanied by the torment of the wicked:

Here their spirits shall be set apart in this great pain, till the great day of judgement, scourgings, and torments of the accursed for ever, so that (there may be) retribution for their spirits. (32.11)

The virtuous live uptown—with bright lights and a stream of water. Collins tells us that the spring of water and light are Orphic motifs.^xxv Concerning the virtuous in the underworld, Aristophanes wrote:

We alone have sunshine (in the underworld) and bright light, we who have been initiated and who behaved with piety toward guests and ordinary people. (Aristophanes Frogs 454-9) ^xxvi

Charles also recognizes other foreign influences in I Enoch:

[Chapter 22] contains a very detailed account of Sheol or Hades. The writer places it in the far west, as the Babylonians, Greeks, and Egyptians did, and not in the underworld, as the Hebrews. In all other sections of Enoch the Hebrew view prevails. This is the earliest statement of the Pharisaic or Chasid doctrine of Sheol, but here it is already fullgrown. The departed have conscious existence, and moral, not social distinctions are observed in Sheol. ^xxvii

In other words, this version of Sheol is not the biblical version of Sheol. This is clear evidence that the author's of I Enoch borrowed quite liberally—and unabashedly—from various traditions, especially the Greeks. In other words, Hades and Tartarus are not just a loanwords. In this work, they retain many of their original features.

I Enoch is not the only Jewish otherworldly tale. The Apocalypse Of Zephaniah (First Century BC – First Century AD) also contains a Jewish nekyia. Punishment is a major theme in this tale, too. Angels take on the role of psychopomp, guiding souls to their final destination. Much like Hades himself, there is a great angel, Eremiel, who “rules over the abyss and Hades.” (6:15) While making preparations for a river journey in the underworld, the seer's guide exclaims, “Triumph, prevail because you have prevailed and have triumphed over the accuser, and you have come up from Hades and the abyss. You will now cross over the crossing place.” (7:9) On the other side of the crossing place, on the good side, stands Abraham along with other heroes from Israel's past.(9:4-5) It is a Hebrew work, but it incorporates all of the Hadean features we have discussed. In other words, this is not Old Testament Sheol either.

Concepts of the Otherworld in Luke 16

At this point, we should mention the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, which begins in Luke 16:19. Give it read. There are some obvious parallels between its features and the those we've just outlined including: Hades, psychopomps, a great gulf, divisions, and reward and punishment. Why is this parable in a different category than the otherworld visions we have considered up to this point?

Let me begin with an anecdote: in the animated film A Bug's Life, the character Dot, who happens to be an ant, is upset because she is young, small and unable to do some things bigger bugs can do. Flik, a wiser and older ant, attempts to teach her a lesson by way of allegory. Picking up a rock, he says:

Flik: Here, pretend this is a seed.

Dot: But it's a rock.

Flik: I know, I know, but let's for a minute pretend it's a seed, lets use our imaginations. You see our tree? Everything that is in that giant tree is contained inside this tiny seed. All it needs is some time, a little sunshine and rain, and voilá!

Dot: This rock will be a tree?

Flik: Seed to tree, you have to stay with me. Now, it may seem that you can't do anything, but that's just because you're not a tree yet. You just have to give yourself more time. You're still a seed.

Dot: But it's a rock.

Flik: [shouting] I know it's a rock! Don't you think I know a rock when I see a rock? I've spent a lot of time around rocks!

Dot: You're weird, but I like you.

Dot just couldn't get past the surface imagery to see the true message that Flik was trying to get across. Sometimes a rock isn't a rock.

Some of us do the same thing with Jesus' parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Yet the surface imagery in a parable signifies something other than itself. As Jesus said, “To what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable can we use to present it?” (Mark 4:30) For example, in Matthew 13 the “tares” stand for the “sons of the evil one.” The “wheat” stands for “sons of the kingdom.” According to Jesus' interpretation, the parable of the tares among the wheat is not about agriculture. Likewise, the parable of the landowner in Matthew 21 is not about tenant farming or how to handle delinquent accounts. (Give it a read, too.)

So why is the parable of the rich man and Lazarus different? Why do people take this as Jesus' “doctrine” of the underworld? Jesus' use of mythology in this parable is not tacit consent to the existence of such a place. (Remember Isaiah 14?) If it is, then we should apply the same standard to other parables. Where can we find the landowner's parabolic vineyard—the one with the fence, winepress, and watchtower from Matthew 21:33f?

Of course, the “meaning” of a parable is not on the surface. Jesus' disciples asked him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” (Matthew 13.10) How did he reply? “You have been given the opportunity to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but they have not.” (Matthew 13.11) If the meaning is on the surface, it isn't much of a secret. Peter, Paul and Mary said something similar: “but if I really say it/the radio won't play it/unless I lay it between the lines.” So while some in Jesus' audience got hung up on the finer points of agriculture, tenant farming, or mythology, those with insight could pick up on what he was putting down: “But your eyes are blessed because they see, and your ears because they hear.” (Matthew 13:16, NET) Thus, parables may be confusing—even misleading—to some, but instructive to others.

In Luke 16:31, Jesus makes his point explicitly: “If they do not respond to Moses and the prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” The parable of the rich man and Lazarus is a lesson about Israel, not the geography of Hades or elucidation of the so-called intermediate state. If one is looking at the surface of Jesus' parables, then one has missed the point—much like Dot and the rock-seed debacle. Doctrine should be culled from the epistles and not the imagery of parables—especially when Jesus does not interpret the figures. (Augustine did not follow this advice, see note xlvii.) As we'll see shortly, the epistles flatly contradict some of the “doctrine” that has been read into this parable.

Some may object to the suggestion that Jesus used myth to illustrate his point. However, Jesus was not alone in this. Paul likewise borrowed from myth to suite his purposes. In Acts 17:26-29, Paul, using the alter 'To an unknown god' as a segue, stood before the Athenians in the Areopagus and said:

From one man ['the unknown God'] made every nation of the human race to inhabit the entire earth, determining their set times and the fixed limits of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope around for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move about and exist, as even some of your own poets have said, 'For we too are his offspring.' So since we are God's offspring, we should not think the deity is like gold or silver or stone, an image made by human skill and imagination.

The first portion of verse 28, in italics, is a quote from Epimenides; a Cretan philosopher, poet and prophet. The second portion of verse 28, also in italics, is from the Phaenomena of Aratus. In their original contexts, both of these lines refer Zeus. Paul hijacked the poets praise of Zeus and applied those lines to the God of Israel, the “unknown God.” Of course, Paul was not confirming the existence of Zeus by quoting poets who lauded the Olympian's virtues. No one ever accuses him of such. Why is Jesus different? Surely, Jesus was not substantiating Grecian notions of the underworld (which had been diffused into Judaism) by using such themes in a parable about Israel. Both Jesus and Paul used myth to suite to their purposes—yet neither apply the stamp of truth to myth. They used myth to illustrate the truth.

In the next section, we will discover that post-biblical Christian writers incorporated many of the Grecian underworld features found in Luke 16.19-31. There is one significant difference between Jesus' story and otherworld journeys of subsequent Christian literature: Since the tale of the rich man and Lazarus is a parable, ^xxviii the details are not presented as “fact” as is the case with otherworld journeys in, for example, pseudo-apocalypses or Medieval visions.

Two final points: Even if one chooses to disregard what has been said up to this point regarding the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, there is nothing in the text to suggest that their respective states were to be eternal. There is nothing in the text about their fate post-70 AD. Simply put: this text in no way teaches eternal conscious torment.

Concepts of the Otherworld in Early Christian Literature

We have already seen how effectively the writers of I Enoch and the The Apocalypse of Zephaniah had assimilated material from the mythology of the Greeks. The acceptance of Grecian underworld tradition to such an extent is really quite remarkable as cultural diffusion must first overcome one's resistance to change. On the other hand, ethnocentrism in its so-called “weaker form” is passive. Consequently, ethnocentrism is both easier to apply and harder for the individual to recognize as it happens. So then, it is no surprise that post-biblical Christian writers failed to completely jettison some notions they had prior to conversion. Christian eschatology was often filtered through both philosophy and mythology. In fact, the otherworld journey made a seamless transition into Christian writings. We will consider three very influential examples of the otherworld journey in Christian literature; The Apocalypse of Peter (c.130), The Apocalypse of Paul (c. 380), The Gospel of Nicodemus (late 3^rd century).

Regarding Nicodemus, James comments:

The central idea, the delivery of the righteous Fathers from Hades, is exceedingly ancient. Second-century writers are full of it. The embellishments, the dialogues of Satan with Hades, which are so dramatic, come in later, perhaps with the development of pulpit oratory among Christians. We find them in fourth-century homilies attributed to Eusebius of Emesa. ^xxix

Acts 2.27, 31 ^{Note on 1 Peter 3.19 xxx} must have paved the way for the “Descent into Hell” contained in Nicodemus. Peter quotes David saying, “. . .because you will not leave my soul in Hades, nor permit your Holy One to experience decay.” Of course, since Peter is quoting the Old Testament, 'Hades' here stands for 'Sheol' and not the Greek underworld. But that didn't stop the author(s) of Nicodemus from turning Jesus into an otherworld traveler, a role similar to those of Heracles and Orpheus before him. In this tale, Jesus goes down to the Greek version of Hades to rescue the saints of old. After learning of Jesus' death and his true identity, Hades (the god, Zeus' brother) says to Satan, “I adjure thee by the powers which belong to thee and me, that thou bring him not to me.” (Hone, 15.16) Apparently, Satan has assumed Hermes' role as psychopomp. But it was too late. For while Satan and Hades were stilling talking, Jesus arrived at the gate and said, “Lift up your gates, O ye princes; and be ye lift up, O everlasting gates, and the King of Glory shall come in.” (Hone, 16.1) Hades orders the brass gate to be reinforced, but it's no use. Jesus appears in their midst and breaks the chains of Death (a minor god) that had held the patriarchs captive. Jesus then ushers them to paradise, the garden of Eden.

This tale has had considerable influence over the centuries:

Art and literature all through Europe had from early times embodied in many forms the Descent into Hell, and specimens plays upon this theme in various European literatures still exist, but it is in Middle English dramatic literature that we find the fullest and most dramatic development of the subject. The earliest specimen extant of the English religious drama is upon the Harrowing of Hell, and the four great cycles of English mystery plays each devote to it a separate scene. It is found also in the ancient Cornish plays. These medieval versions of the story, while ultimately based upon the New Testament and the Fathers, have yet, in their details, been found to proceed from the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, the literary form of a part of which is said to date back to the second of third century. In its Latin form this "gospel" was known in England from a very early time; Bede and other Old English writers are said to show intimate acquaintance with it. English translations were made of it in the Middle Ages, and in the long Middle English poem known as "Cursor Mundi" a paraphrase of it is found. ^xxxi

While the Gospel of Nicodemus attempts to focus on the positive side of Jesus' work, the apocalypses have a much different tone. These versions of the otherworld journey have a tendency to be much more graphic—not to mention cruel and unusual—than their predecessors.

The Apocalypse of Peter is a vision that allegedly occurred at the time of the Transfiguration. Jesus plays the role of guide in this tale. Bernstein summarizes:

The Apocalypse of Peter emphasizes the consequences of sin far more than those of faith. Further, torments that are summed up in one word in the New Testament are elaborated here in dramatic detail. The fire of Gehenna mentioned by Jesus in Mark 9:48 is expanded far beyond Revelation's lake of fire, into burning coals, fire poured down throats, chains of fire, and rays of fire that go forth from aborted fetuses to smite their mother's eyes. The worm from the same passage in Mark is here applied to entrails and female breasts. Also varying the biblical idea of fiery punishment with a new specificity come the molten idols, the heated pebbles, the glowing rods and pokers. The Apocalypse of Peter interprets the generic fire of the Bible and applies it to individual uses, making it more concrete. ^xxxii

Additional features of this apocalypse include people hanged by their tongues over pits of fire. Men who committed fornication are hanged by their... not their tongues. The victims of murder watch angels torment their slayers. People are boiled in mire. The women who are being tormented by their aborted children sit in a pool of excrement. Hot irons are poked in peoples' eyes. Others are roasted. Lips are cut off. There are those who are bound and chastised “with a multitude of wounds which flesh-devouring birds shall inflict upon them,” similar to both Tityus and Prometheus. The author also borrows from Sisyphus' tale, whom we met in Homer and Vergil. ^xxxiii Other Greek elements include a river of fire, psychopomps, and the Elysian Fields. ^xxxiv Hopefully, the author's sources are readily apparent. These are not tenuous parallels.

The Apocalypse of Peter was a source for the Apocalypse of Paul, an extended account of what the apostle allegedly saw when he was caught up to the third heaven. The relevant features of this apocalypse include the usual suspects: a river of fire, Tartarus, and psychopomps. Also, angels execute a number of ghastly punishments such as piercing the bowels of old men with a trident, pelting men with stones, cutting off lips and tongues with a fiery razor. And the obligatory undying worms (which ate corpses in Isaiah) eat people from the inside out.

This is not a place described by the Bible. It is the stuff of myth. We mentioned that the punishment of Sisyphus was recast in the Apocalypse of Peter. Tantalus makes an uncredited appearance in theApocalypse of Paul.

And I observed and saw others hanging over a channel of water, and their tongues were very dry, and many fruits were placed in their sight, and they were not permitted to take of them. . . ^xxxv

This will sound familiar to readers of the Odyssey:

And I saw Tantalus too, bearing endless torture.
He stood erect in a pool as the water lapped his chin--
parched, he tried to drink, but he could not reach the surface,
no, time and again the old man stooped, craving a sip,
time and again the water vanished, swallowed down,
laying bare the caked black earth at his feet--
some spirit drank it dry. And over his head
leafy trees dangled their fruit from high aloft,
pomegranates and pears, and apples glowing red,
succulent figs and olives swelling sleek and dark,
but as soon as the old man would strain to clutch them fast
a gust would toss them up to the lowering dark clouds. ^xxxvi

The similarities between the earliest and most detailed treatment of hell in Christian literature betrays its sources at nearly every opportunity. These are not spurious parallels:

So what? Who care about these bogus apocalypses? Listen to the influence these tales had:

[The Apocalypse of Peter] was well-known in early Christianity; some counted it among the New Testament Scriptures.[^xxxvii] Eventually, though, it came to be excluded from the canon, in part because Christians realized that it was pseudonymous. Even then, however, the book continued to exercise significant influence on Christian thought. This is the first Christian writing to describe a journey through hell and heaven, an account that inspired a large number of successors, including, ultimately, Dante's Divine Comedy. ^xxxviii

This vision of hell was considered scripture for a time. The mythic underworld of the Greeks—with its Sisyphean tasks, Clive Barker-style torments, psychopomps, Elysian Fields—was counted as sacred truth. James notes, “. . . [The Apocalypse of Peter ranked next in popularity and probably also in date to the Canonical Apocalypse of St. John.” ^xxxix Though the Apocalypse of Peter did fall out of favor as an inspired work, its innovating doctrine of hell and eternal torment (torture) did not.

The influence of the Apocalypse of Paul has also had a significant impact on our thinking.

[The Apocalypse of Paul] became quite popular in Western Christianity, and was responsible for propagating many of the wide-spread notions of heaven and hell that have come down even till today. ^xl

The apocalypses of Peter and Paul, which ultimately derive their material from myth, were the inspiration for numerous otherworld visions in the middle ages which highlighted the torments of hell. ^xli

Gardiner comments:

These [Medieval otherworld] visions were extremely popular literary works. They were often initially written as records of the vision itself. Later they might be modified or expanded. Because these visions were believed to be factual and not fictional, they were often also incorporated into chronicles of the period. They were obviously used as didactic pieces in the church and were therefore actively preserved and disseminated. ^xlii

This is really quite startling: these otherworld journeys depicting the punishments of hell and conscious torment—imitating the pseudo-apocalypses and, ultimately, myth—were used as teaching material in the church. They were presented as fact! Their purpose is explained in a vision of Gregory the Great:

We can learn from this that when the torments of hell are shown to men and women, sometimes it is for their own benefit and sometimes as a witness for others. They first may see those miseries in order to avoid them; and the others may see them to be punished even more because they would not learn from the torments that they both knew and saw with their own eyes. ^xliii

“Terrify to edify” was the rule of the day.

Though many Christians have never heard of the Gospel of Nicodemus or the Apocalypse of Peter or the Apocalypse of Paul, they have accepted their mythic themes that have been assimilated by “orthodox” Christianity. Recall the ghastly tortures of burning coals, boiling mire, roastings, men hanged by their loins, and torment at the hands of evil angels contained in these works. Even Charles H. Spurgeon was touched by the influence of myth and pseudo-apocalypse. He warned a London audience of the torments to come:

Thine heart beating high with fever, thy pulse rattling at an enormous rate in agony, thy limbs crackling like the martyrs in the fire and yet unburnt, thyself put in a vessel of hot oil, pained yet coming out undestroyed, all thy veins becoming a road for the hot feet of pain to travel on, every nerve a string on which the devil shall ever play his diabolical tune. ^xliv

This is eloquently worded and frightening, but we can find nothing of this sort in scripture. These heinous torments are pure fiction, but they have nevertheless been perpetuated for centuries: from Plato to Vergil to Augustine to Gregory the Great to the Reformers to Spurgeon on down to various denominations.

We mentioned previously the stark contrast between the OT view of the otherworld and what we have encountered in Greek, Latin and later Jewish writings. There is also a stark contrast between the NT and what we have read in the pseudo-apocalypses, Medieval writings, and even Spurgeon. What does scripture actually say? Even if one should choose to adopt a futurist eschatology and apply the following passages to a yet-to-be postmortem judgment, the “end” is a far cry from what Spurgeon and others have envisioned—and quite bland by some standards:

They will undergo the penalty of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his strength (2TH 1:19)

. . .and by not being intimidated in any way by your opponents. This is a sign of their destruction, but of your salvation– a sign which is from God. (Phi 1:28)

Their end is destruction, their god is the belly, they exult in their shame, and they think about earthly things. (Phi 3:19)

But we are not among those who shrink back and thus perish, but are among those who have faith and preserve their souls. (Heb 10:39)

But false prophets arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you. . . they will bring swift destruction on themselves. (2Pe 2:1)

Of course, the inherent immortality of the soul was a necessity in Plato's model of punishment—which was smuggled into Christianity by men like Origen^xlv and Augustine^xlvi. However, Paul challenges Plato on two fronts: the fate of the wicked, already mentioned, and immortality. Man is not inherently immortal:

[God] alone possesses immortality and lives in unapproachable light, whom no human has ever seen or is able to see. To him be honor and eternal power! Amen. (1Ti 6:16)

Immortality, which God alone possesses, is a gift according to Paul:

God will reward each one according to his works: eternal life to those who by perseverance in good works seek glory and honor and immortality, but wrath and anger to those who live in selfish ambition and do not obey the truth but follow unrighteousness. (Romans 2:6-8)

Man is not immortal, neither is God the Cosmic Sadist. Immortality does not accompany “wrath and anger” in verse 8 of Romans 2. But for many of us, the imagery of Luke 16:19f trumps Paul.^xlvii

So where did the notion of eternal conscious torment come from? Myth. And it is high-time that we “demythologize” our traditions. Hospitality and Judgment in the Gospel of Matthew will attempt to do just that.

Conclusion

We have surveyed a number of otherworld journeys from various times and cultures noting commonalities: psychopomps, Tartarus, Elysian Fields, reward and punishment in the form of conscious torment, and famous sinners. These details supplanted the vagueness of OT Sheol during the intertestamental period through the process of cultural diffusion. It was even easier for Greco-Roman authors to view the Christian scriptures through their own frame of reference—that is, ethnocentrism is easier to apply than cultural diffusion is to accept. Accordingly, Homer, Plato and Vergil were combined with futurist Christian eschatology to create the otherworld journeys of pseudo-apocalypses. Although these writings eventually fell out of favor, the pseudo-apocalypses have had significant influence on the church's doctrine of hell. The Medieval church, drawing from a long history of predecessors, presented their own otherworld journeys to be “fact,” unlike the parabolic underworld of Luke 16.19f. These horrific Medieval tales of torture were used for didactic purposes to “edify” congregants. Over time, myth has become sanitized by tradition and accepted as truth. And now we read our tradition, that is, myth, back into scripture without giving it a second thought—repeating the same mistake post-biblical writers made. However, if one cares to investigate, the origins of hell and its mythic roots in the otherworld journey are easy enough to find. Of course, that search begins outside of our sacred texts.

The origins of hell in pagan literature and its reliance on futurist eschatology should cause us to reexamine our own notions of resurrection and judgment in a preterist framework. Let us not be among those who display a “failure to appreciate the different frames of reference within which members of other cultures operate.” In other words, don't filter scripture through Classical Mythology. Reframing our understanding of such “end time” themes in light of preterist eschatology is not only legitimate but necessary. In the next session, we will attempt to demonstrate how this might be done. In Hospitality and Judgment in the Gospel of Matthew, we will first establish the cultural and historical context for one famous judgment scene and then offer an interpretation that counters both futurist eschatology and myth.

Notes