The
Bible uses several different metaphors for hell. Unless we understand the
metaphors, we won’t understand damnation.
1. Fire
This is, of course, the
dominant metaphor in historical theology and pop culture. This carries with it
two dangers:
i) Overemphasis on the fiery
metaphor eclipses other, neglected metaphors for hell in Scripture. That leads
to an unbalanced view of hell.
ii) There is also a danger of
misunderstanding the fiery metaphor. I’ve explored the meaning of this metaphor
in the past:
There’s a popular stereotype
of the hellfire preacher: a heavyset evangelist with beady eyes, mopping his
sweaty brow with a hanky as he gleefully depicts the damned writhing in hell.
No doubt there are some preachers who play into the stereotype.
2. The lost
I’ve discussed this image in
a recent post:
3. Death
The Apocalypse describes
eternal punishment as a “second death.” That plays on the connotations of
death. So what’s the emblematic significance of death?
An obvious suggestion is that
death signifies loss. Ultimate loss. Total loss. Irrevocable loss.
One of the most illuminating
passages in that respect is Eccl 12:1-8, with its famous, poignant evocation of
old age.
Solomon uses the image of a
dilapidated house to portray the aging process. Due to infirmity and sensory
deprivation (imbalance, loss of sight, loss of hearing), the elderly suffer
from increasing social and resultant emotional isolation. The steady,
involuntary withdrawal from the world. Forced isolation, due to a mind trapped
inside a body that’s become a prison.
Blindness is a common
affliction in the Mideast, with its unremitting glare.
The elderly outlive older
relatives (parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles). They outlive their spouse.
They outlive childhood friends. And in the ancient world it wasn’t uncommon to
outlive some or all of your children.
They are shut-ins. They don’t
venture outside very often because they are unsteady on their feet. Because
they can’t see well. Because they fear muggers. They are weak. Defenseless.
Easy prey.
Time has passed them by. The
world has passed them by. Yet they linger on.
Outside, the lifecycle
repeats itself with another spring and summer. The almond tree blossoms anew.
But life is autumnal or wintry for the aged. Outside, the younger generation
is doing what they used to do at that age. Children laughing, shouting, playing
in the streets. Young lovers. Shoppers haggling in the town market. Women at
the well. Palestine is a sunny, outdoor climate.
Separation is a type of loss.
Death separates us from this life. Sooner or later the damned lose everything.
They begin losing what they cherish in this life. Friends. Family. They may wax
wistful about the past. Lost youth. The past taunts them. Something they miss.
Something they vividly remember, yet it lies just out of reach. Tantalizing.
Conversely, heaven represents
reunion and restoration. Reconnecting the past with the future.
4. Forgetfulness
The Bible depicts death as a
state of forgetfulness. Of course, death isn’t equivalent to damnation. But
forgetfulness can signify the state of the lost.
Forgetfulness can be taken in
different directions:
i) The elderly are often
forgetful. This may begin with a less retentive short-term memory. But it can
also erode long-term memory. They lose track of time. Forget what day it is.
Forget what year it is. Forget where they are. They may ask to be taken “home,”
when their old home is long gone.
ii) Forgetfulness can be both
a blessing and a curse. Ideally, we like to remember the good things and forget
the bad things. By the same token, we hope to be remembered at our best, not
our worst.
iii) Then there’s the specter
of being forgotten. Take elderly men and women who outlive everyone who was
ever close to them.
Five years ago I got a phone
call from a member of my high school reunion committee. She was an old
classmate. I hadn’t spoken to her since we graduated. Yet we were able to pick
up where we left off, 30 years ago, without missing a beat. There was that
instant recognition when I’d mention an old teacher or fellow student or the
school building.
What happens when there’s no
one left in your life who shares your old memories?
It’s like a man who goes on
an ocean cruise. He may be surrounded by hundreds of passengers, but they are
strangers. He eats by himself. No one knows who he is.
If he falls overboard at
night, no one will notice that he’s gone. Nobody will register his absence.
He will splash around in the
dark, watching the lights and sounds of the ship recede into blackness. He
shouts for help, but no one hears him. He’s left alone, in the darkness. In the
chilly waters. He will die alone.
It’s a terrible thing to be a
missing person. In a way, it’s worse to go missing, and no one misses you. Not
just that no one cares. No one is even aware.
To be forgotten is to be
forsaken. That’s a common fate for orphans and widows in OT times. And that’s
still the case today.
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