O come, O come, Emmanuel. Amen.
As you’ve already figured out, this is the Fourth Sunday of Advent, not Christmas Eve. When the evening comes, we’ll then transition into celebrating that, but for at least the next hour, we remain firmly grounded in Advent. And I’m so glad to have each of you here to celebrate the fullness of Advent before rushing into Christmas. So your reward for coming to church this morning is a sermon about hell.
Throughout this season of Advent, the sermons have focused on the traditional Four Last Things of death, judgment, heaven, and today, hell. It may seem odd to focus on such deep and sobering topics when the world focuses on saccharine sentimentality, but the wisdom of the Church proves to be wiser than the wisdom of the world. The Church year begins in Advent, so right at the very start, we consider the final things so that the final truths of God’s sovereignty, mercy, and love might influence the way we live in the present. Advent is a time to remember the future. And as we do so, we consider how hell shapes our faith in helpful ways.
Before getting into the topic of hell, what I said last Sunday about heaven also applies to hell. We must always approach topics that are bigger than ourselves with humility. Scripture speaks of hell in metaphorical ways and when it comes to things bigger than our humanity, we will always be in a position of unknowing. So while we consider hell this morning, remember that we see through a glass dimly.
It’s easier to begin by saying what hell is not. It’s fairly safe to say that hell is not like the images conjured up by most of us when someone says the word “hell.” Immediately, we turn to images from art and literature that have shaped our conception of hell more than we do Scripture. So as we think about hell this morning, as best we can, let’s put aside images of a horned man with red skin and a pitchfork, let’s not think about flames or ice, let’s not think about Milton’s Satan who rules hell, and let’s not imagine Dante’s levels of hell.
Last week, as we considered heaven, I said that more than being a place, heaven is a reality which exists around us in space as much as it does ahead of us in time. The same can be said of hell. One conception of hell that must be rejected is that it is the place where humans go as punishment for the things that they have or have not done during life. Life is not a sorting contest to see where you get to spend eternity. That is a horrendous view of heaven and hell and reduces life to a very dark sort of game show where God is a mischievous host. Yet, sadly, this is how hell is often conceived of – as the eternal torture chamber of a sadistic sort of deity.
One of the clear and consistent messages of Scripture is that God is in the business of eternal life, not eternal damnation or annihilation. That’s the whole point of Jesus – that God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that we may not perish, but have eternal life. Jesus ushers us into the abundant life of God. The God portrayed in Scripture and seen manifest in Jesus is a God of restoration. So, yes, we will be judged one day, but not so that the proper punishment can be concocted for all of the ways that we’ve fallen short, but rather so that God’s restoring and saving grace will be properly applied to our souls. As I said about judgment two weeks ago, judgment is always done in and through the mercy and love of God on the Cross and in the service of redemption and reconciliation.
There is strong Biblical and theological grounding to reject this notion of hell as being a place of eternal punishment. But there are not good warrants to outright reject the overall notion of hell. Hell, though it is conceived of in differing ways throughout Scripture, is a part of our faith that simply cannot be dismissed. As much as we’d like to claim that we’ve evolved past the need for hell to function as a behavior modification tool or to say that a loving God would never punish people, we simply have to ignore too much Scripture, tradition, and reason to flatly reject belief in hell.
So, what then can we say about hell? I find CS Lewis to be one of the most helpful authors when it comes to thinking of hell. He grounded his works, such as The Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce, both of which are outstanding books, in the Christian tradition while also coming up with some imaginative ways to think about hell. In one place, Lewis writes “We must picture hell as a state where everyone is perpetually concerned about his own delight and advancements, where everyone has a grievance, and where everyone lives the deadly serious passions of envy, self-importance, and resentment.” If that’s a working definition of hell, it doesn’t sound too far off from describing modern society. One author has written that “God doesn’t need to punish us. He just grants us long enough to punish ourselves.” So it’s not hard to imagine what hell might look like, as we do have glimpses of the distortion of the created goodness all around us.
Other theologians have described hell as the state of the soul being bent in on itself. In the language of Scripture, we might say that hell is the state of being idolatrous. Idolatry is when we turn away from God and start to worship other things like reputation, appearance, money, security. And this contorting of our wills and distorting of our priorities closes us off to the grace of God. Not everything that Milton wrote about hell is unhelpful, as it puts his finger on the issue when he has Satan say “Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.” That outright rejection of God in the name of our self-made idols is what paves the road to hell.
The real danger of idolatry is that it has consequences. Idolatry is not only a sin against God, but it affects the way we treat others. Idolatry is what causes selfishness, judgmentalism, fear, and coldness of heart. Idolatry isn’t innocent, as it causes real pain, death, and oppression. Those decisions we make out of convenience affect other people. It’s complicated, I acknowledge, but, for example, when I think of Syrian refugees being rejected around the world as they seek asylum, I can’t help but believe that one day I will pay for my inaction towards them. Of course, I’m not personally responsible for their plight, and there’s little that I can do to solve the problem, but I can do more than nothing.
Today, the lectionary permits the use of the Magnificat in place of the Psalm, and we’ve chosen that option. These words of Mary are some of the most well-known and powerful in all of Scripture. It’s not surprising that the public recitation of the Magnificat has been banned by dictators around the globe. Did you hear just how subversive Mary’s words are? “God has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” Clearly, we have a vision of what God’s idea of justice looks like and clearly that vision does not match reality.
And this is the nature of sin, it’s a complicated web of relationships. You and I cannot solve every problem in the world, and yet as a whole, we are not doing our best. There are too many starving children, too many young girls being trafficked, too many flaws in our criminal justice system, too much of a discrepancy between the rich and everyone else for us to come away with clean hands. Now, we didn’t get here because we want there to be suffering and disparity in the world, but yet, here we are. All of those little decisions of idolatry add up. Every time that we accept as normal the degradation of another person, or neglect the poor, or choose to be less than generous, or compassionate, or faithful, we do harm to others. And we’re great at rationalizing these decisions that protect our own security and comfort, the name of that game is called “politics.” We’re great at blaming others for their situation while ignoring how we benefit from the system that has given us power.
One thing that hell does is to remind us of the fact that actions have consequences and that morality matters. When Jesus tells parables like the one about separating the sheep from the goats, we see these truths. Hell may be the day that we have to come face to face with the suffering that we’ve contributed to. Jesus said “the truth shall set you free.” I won’t speak for any of you, but to know fully how much pain, disappointment, and suffering that I’ve caused by my actions or my negligence would certainly be hellish. Hell might be the great unveiling of truth when we encounter the fullness of God’s love. And that painful disparity between our imperfect lives and God’s perfect love would be hell enough.
Yet, there is always the opportunity for the love of God to conquer even the worst of our sins and idolatry. CS Lewis wrote that “the doors of hell are locked on the inside.” Hell is not a place that we are sent, it is a state that we choose. In life, we have the freedom to choose between what is life-affirming and what is grace-denying. And after death, it seems plausible that until the final culmination of all things, we will either be able to continue to be twisted in on ourselves or we will able to enter God’s grace. So if there are people in a state of hell after their deaths, hope is not vanquished. As we all know, change is hard, as is admitting that we are wrong. Obviously, I don’t know what it’s like on the other side of death, but we might assume that it still won’t be easy to change. Some may choose to lock themselves into hell by refusing God’s grace because we’ve become so accustomed to doing so here on earth.
I know that this has been a heavy sermon, but there is something to be said for considering hell in Advent as we prepare for Christmas. If hell represents darkness and Godforsakeness, then all the more, we need the reminder that the Light is not overcome by darkness. One theologian, when writing about Jesus’ Crucifixion and descent into Hell wrote “that which he has not assumed, he has not healed.” But there is nothing that Christ did not take upon himself as a human. He was born, he lived, he died, and he went to hell on our behalf; and by descending into hell, Christ harrowed hell. Even in what might seem like the dead-end of hell, God’s redemption and love remain available.
Genesis tells us that humanity is created in the image of God. All of us together form a mosaic and when we are all together, that divine image is seen. One day, all shall be restored and healed. The brokenness of sin will be fully healed. All of Creation will again reflect the image of God and all will be united in the love of God. The famous theologian Karl Barth was once asked about hell and the fate of those who might find themselves there. Some people had noticed that his language of God’s final redemption made him sound like a universalist, that is, someone who believes that all people, regardless of how notorious their sin or their religious beliefs, will one day be saved. He said “I am not a universalist, but God may well be one.”
This is the hope of the Messiah and Advent prepares us for that hope. The darkness of hell exists around us and when presented with the light of God, some may choose to remain in the darkness where they can hide from truth. But in the end, God promises to be with us and to love us. As we conclude Advent, four candles burn in our Advent wreath, reminding us that the light shines even in darkness. As we wait for that last candle to be lit at the end of all things, we hope and trust that in the end, all shall be redeemed, all shall be loved, and all shall be well. Amen.
