The Land of Forgetfulness

Radio and TV preachers are fond of scaring the hell out of their audiences and trying to put them on the straight and narrow by painting a visual image of Hell as a fiery place of punishment (Rev 21:8; 14:10; 19:20; 20:10). Oddly enough the word Hell does not even appear in the Greek New Testament. Several words for the place of punishment of evil-doers appear in the New Testament,¹ but Hell is not among them. The Biblical Greek word is "Hades" (usually translated as Hell). The worst thing to fear about Hades and Sheol (the land of departed spirits in Hebrew Bible/Old Testament), however, is not the New Testament fire and brimstone [sulpher], for how could actual fire affect a nonmaterial entity (soul, spirit)?²

            The most terrifying thing about Sheol is loss of memory. In the ancient world, in both Hebrew and Greek traditions the dead continue in a kind of semi-existence. It is once referred to as "the Land of Forgetfulness." The psalmist questions God:

Is thy steadfast love declared in the grave,

or thy faithfulness in Abaddon?

Are thy wonders known in the darkness,

or thy saving help in the land of forgetfulness? (Psalm 88:12-13, RSV)

The place the psalmist inquires about is not the fictional Land of the Lotus Eaters in the Odyssey,³ but rather the mythical place of departed spirits in Semitic and Greek antiquity, as the Hebrew parallelism with "the grave" and "Abaddon" (Rev 9:11) makes clear. Sheol is described as "the land of gloom and deep darkness where light is as darkness" (Job 10:21). The dead are there, but as "not existing" (Sirach 17:27-28). They are spiritless shades (Baruch  2:17) that know nothing (Eccl 9:5). In Sheol the dead are but shadows of their former living state; thinking, feeling, purposeful action, and remembering are finished, for in Sheol the vacant, thoughtless, and oblivious monotony of death reigns.

            In Greek mythology the underworld was ruled over by the Greek God Hades. His kingdom was populated by the shades of those who had died. One of the five rivers running through Hades was called Lethe (forgetfulness, oblivion). The dead drank of the waters of this mythical river and instantly lost their memories. For example, Odysseus journeyed to the mythical land of Hades, the land of death, and found his mother's shade. She did not know him until she sipped blood that Odysseus poured out; then she knew him.⁴

Both Sheol and Hades hold a terror worse than a lake burning with fire. Being bereft of memory is a loss of self identity and hence a loss of self; it is in a sense a kind of living death. You "live," but it is no longer that person you once were, but someone without a past—where one has neither memory of childhood nor of one's own children.

            The places of punishment in the Judeo-Christian tradition are mythical locations. Yet there is a real location, sharing the terror of Sheol and Hades, in which the land of forgetfulness becomes a contemporary reality. According to the World Health Organization (WHO) dementia/Alzheimer's "is a syndrome in which there is a deterioration in memory, thinking, behavior, and the ability to perform every day activities." The syndrome is not a normal part of aging and there is no current treatment either to cure dementia or slow its progression. Approximately, 50 million people around the world suffer from dementia. Alzheimer's is the most common form of the disease; the WHO estimates that 60-70% of dementia sufferers may have Alzheimer's disease. The WHO claims that "there are nearly 10 million new cases every year," and further estimates the number of people with dementia will be 82 million in 2030 and 152 million in 2050.⁵

            One could debate which of the two is the greater threat to the human psychē—the mythical hell of Sheol and Hades or the living hell of dementia/Alzheimer's. It seems to me, however, that dementia is by far the greater threat, for dementia robs sufferers of the integrity of life in the land of living in the here and now rather than in some mythical future. I seriously doubt, however, that true believers will see it that way.

Charles W. Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University

¹See Hedrick, Wry Thoughts on Religion Blog: "Does Hell Exist," August 29, 2015: http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=hell

²Well, maybe, a mythical, magic fire might. 

³In this land all who eat the intoxicating fruit of the lotus "longed to stay forever, browsing on that native bloom, forgetful of their homeland" (Book 9).

⁴The Odyssey, Book 11

⁵https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/dementia (19 September, 2019)

Pondering in Back Alleys

My daily walking route takes me through the back alleys of North Kansas City. When I am alone on my 45-minute stroll, I ponder (to weigh in the mind; to consider, quietly, soberly, and deeply). This essay is a result of one of those walks. It may strike you as the original Jerry Seinfeld show—a show about nothing, but at the time it seemed a serious ponder.

The prime directive of all living things is to survive and propagate.¹ Just surviving, however, is not enough for a rational human being. We humans are thinkers and we ponder all things even life itself. We are social creatures and require meaning and purpose in our life and in the lives of those near us. To that end, in search of meaning and purpose in life I have pondered my way through life in both clerical and academic careers (and several others) aiming to understand the Bible and to assess what it offers as a guide for finding meaning and purpose in human life. Taken as a whole, however, one will find little in the Bible that addresses the meaning and purpose of the whole of human life. I hasten to add, however, that the Bible does address, in part, religious aspects of life from Israelite and incipient Christian perspectives. Unfortunately, Neither Jesus nor Paul seemed interested in the whole of human life. There is one voice in the Bible, however, to which we may turn for perspectives on the whole of human life, the book of Ecclesiastes. The question is does Koheleth (for so the author dubs the narrator) find anything positive about life? He has the reputation of being pessimistic and begins with this skeptical outburst:

Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything in meaningless! (NIV)²

Here is a sentence clarifying the character of the author that I found in a paragraph introducing the book of Ecclesiastes in the Revised Standard Version of the Protestant Bible.

Ecclesiastes contains the reflections of a philosopher rather than a testimony of belief. The author seeks to understand by the use of reason the meaning of human existence and the good which man can find in life.³

Thus, Koheleth is among the very earliest to ponder life without the safety net of organized religion.

            Koheleth believed in God (3:13, 24-25; 5:18; 8:15) but he did not value organized religion (5:1-7; 7:16). Life appeared meaningless to him because he believed that God had prepared human beings for the ages by putting eternity in the human mind (3:10-11) and yet ended our “threescore and ten” (Ps 90:10) years of living with the grave and Sheol (9:10). Everything that one accomplished with life passes into the hands of others when one dies (2:18-21). Being human is no advantage, for the same fate awaits both man and beast (3:18-21). Living righteously is no advantage to a man for the sinner fares better (7:15), and in the end the same fate awaits both (9:1-3).

            Nevertheless, Koheleth believed that happiness and good could be found in certain simple pleasures of living, such as work (2:24; 3:12-13, 22; 5:18-19), eating and drinking (2:24; 3:13; 5:18; 8:15; 9:7; 10:19), and human companionship (9:9). He counsels that one should enjoy life (8:15; 9:7), for in Sheol to which we are bound there is nothing but shade and shadow (9:10).⁴

            These are some of Koheleth’s thoughts as he wrestled with the reality of the human predicament and the clash of common human experience with faith in God. He believed that one could come closer to solving the riddle of life “by accepting harsh facts and pondering concrete human experience with its attendant pain than he could by accepting the pallid assertions of complacent orthodoxy.”⁵ It may seem strange that such a negative outlook is found in the Bible, but some readers are grateful for its refreshing honesty that correlates with the reality of the human situation.

When all is said and done here is what faces each of us: either to accept the practiced institutional assertions of religious orthodoxy or follow the example of Koheleth by pondering the matter for one’s self—a worthy project for the back alleys of any city. What brings meaning and purpose to your life?

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

¹I addressed this question once before; see Wry Thoughts about Religion: “What is the Meaning of Life,” Sunday, August 23, 2020: http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=life

²Eccl 1:2 as translated in the New International Version. It is an attitude expressed numerous times through the book, for example: 1:14, 17; 2:1, 11, 15, 17, 18, 21, 23, etc.

³Oxford Annotated Bible with Apocrypha, p. 805.

⁴See Hedrick, Wry Thoughts about Religion, “The Land of Forgetfulness” Tuesday, October 22, 2019: http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=sheol

⁵J. Kenneth Kuntz, The People of Ancient Israel (New York: Harper & Row, 1974), 465.

Does Hell Exist?

In the modern popular Christian imagination Hell is a fiery abyss into which the ungodly are cast at the end of the ages, where they will suffer throughout eternity.  Oddly enough, the word "Hell," as such, does not appear in the Bible.  In ancient Israelite and Greek thought there are two principal words that describe the abode of the dead.  In Hebrew thought Sheol, generally translated by the English words grave, hell, pit, is the underworld where a person's shade went at death; they continued there in a shadowy semi-existence.  Sheol included both the good and the wicked (Jacob: Genesis 44:29, 45:31; the wicked: Psalm 31:17).

            In the ancient Greek tradition Hades is the God of the underworld and the area he rules is the "House" of Hades.  Hades (frequently translated Hell in the New Testament) is the universal destination of humankind upon death, although even in the fifth century BCE some special dead ascend to the "upper air," and a privileged few enter the "Isles of the Blessed."

            In the early Christian tradition the designations Hades and Gehenna are exclusively places of torment in fire for the unrighteous (Matt 5:22; Luke 16:23-24; Rev 20:11-14).  Gehenna is the valley of Hinnom , where it has been suggested that the killing by cremation of children as an offering to Baal and Molech, possibly gave rise to the notion of a hell of fire (Matt 5:22; 2 2 Kgs 23:10; 2 Kgs 16:3; 2 Chron 28:2-3).  The Israelite tradition was also likely influenced by ideas of the underworld as a fiery place of punishment during Judah's captivity in Babylon (587 BCE; 2 Kgs 25).  The concept appears in later Israelite writings (2 Esdras 7:36; Sirach 7:17; Judith 16:17; 2nd Isaiah 66:24; Ethiopic Enoch 90:26 and 54:1-5).

            Other words for the abode of the dead/punishment are also used in the New Testament. Tartarus (2 Pet 2:4) is the lowest part of the underworld, even deeper than Hades.  The underworld is also described as the Abyss, Bottomless Pit (Luke 8:31; Romans 10:7; Rev 9:1-2), and the Outer Darkness (Matt 8:11-12; 22:13; 25:30).

            In the Middle Ages Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) wrote a poetic imaginary vision of a guided trip through hell, purgatory, and paradise, the three spiritual realms of departed spirits, reflecting the views of the medieval Christian church.  His vivid descriptions of the suffering of the dead rival in many ways the later (1743-1758) preaching of Jonathan Edwards ("Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"), who terrified his congregation with warnings of the damnation awaiting them unless they repented:

The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire...Therefore, let everyone that is out of Christ, now awake and fly from the wrath to come.

This view of hell as a place of terrifying punishment is alive and well in the modern Christian church and even in the popular imagination of the un-churched.  Does such a place exist?  Of course it did in the imagination and faith of Dante; and Jonathan Edwards clearly believed that it did, and it was likewise very real to his audiences, who responded to his preaching with hysteria, distress, and weeping.

            But does it exist in the material universe as well as "exist" in imagination and belief?  The short of the matter is this: if you believe Hell exists then surely it does—as might other specific locations of faith, such as the Pearly Gates and streets of gold (Rev 21:21), New Jerusalem (Rev 21:2), and Purgatory (not in Protestant and Jewish Bibles, but in the Catholic Bible: 2 Maccabees 12:40-45).  These latter "places" are part of the imagination and belief of the writer of Revelation.

            We don't know Hell by means of our primary senses (seeing, touching, smelling, tasting, hearing), but rather through our minds (i.e., as an idea, or item of faith and/or superstition).  Hell does not in fact exist in the normal ways we think of things existing—that is, as a locatable and visit-able "somewhere," or as something that occupies space and time at a certain longitude/latitude, and/or parsecs location.  Could it "exist" as part of a spiritual universe that perhaps overlays our material universe, and/or is "over there spiritually" in parallel to our material universe, although not a part of it?

You, gentle reader, will be the judge of that.

 

Charles W. Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University

A Passing Thought about Heaven and Hell

A fleeting thought passed through my mind a few days ago: why do religious folk have such a longing for an afterlife (if such there be)? In my case, since I have persistently, for good or ill, continued to associate myself with those Bible-thumping Baptists, it would be the blessed afterlife of the Christian Heaven. The only options one is given in Baptist theology for the afterlife is Heaven or Hell—and I have no interest in spending eternity in a Baptist Hell (if such there be). It turns out, however, descriptions of Hell in the New Testament are quite minimal. In general, Hell is described as a “place” of torment in fire¹ and the absence of God (Matt 25:31-46). If one was not all that religious throughout one’s earthly life, the absence of God might not be a bother, and a burning of one’s spirit/soul (if such there be) in a (nonphysical) fire might not seem that fearsome, since it is not a burning of one’s physical flesh and bones.² Hence, Hell may be a place of suffering, but not physical suffering. How much can a nonphysical fire hurt a gathering of (nonphysical) spirit “molecules,” one wonders.

Spending eternity in the Christian Heaven, on the other hand, might not be that satisfying either. The New Testament only speaks obliquely or metaphorically³ about Heaven. Compare, for example, the description of Heaven as a physically buffed-up version of a new Jerusalem, although the Christian Heaven is obviously a nonexistent spirit “space” (Rev 21). What takes place in Heaven is, hopefully, also expressed in images. Denizens of Heaven will forever (I Thess 4:16-18) spend their time praising God (Rev 5:11-13; 19:4-8), serving/worshiping God (Rev 7:13-17; 22:3), and extolling God in song (Rev 14:1-3). It sounds roughly like a morning worship service in a post-reformation church of any variety. Doing that all day,⁴ day in and day out, forever, could become a bit tedious, perhaps, and lead one, like the ancient Israelites, to think fondly of what was left behind—the “fleshpots” of life on earth (Exod 16:3), so to speak. Even divinely-prepared activities, like diets (Exod 16:8, 12, 13-16, 31) for example, would tend to become a little old over time (Exod 16:35).

            The creation was once the apple of God’s eye (Gen 1:31), but the primordial couple outraged God, and he cursed the created order as well (Gen 3:16-19)—so goes the biblical narrative. On the other hand, most of us have found that our proverbial three score and ten (Ps 90:9-10), or so, has also brought physical, mental, and emotional pleasure and offered us the opportunity to grow and develop in mind, body, and spirit; to enjoy creation’s diversity; to delight in those sensual pleasures innate to the flesh, and join to become one with another for the journey of life (Gen 2:23-24). Life, even in a fallen universe with its many downsides (viz. cancer, Alzheimer’s, and other terminal diseases for which there is yet no known cure) is still a great ride.  The major disappointments have been life’s brevity and the inevitable goodbyes.

            Of course, there may be more diversity to Heaven and less torment to Hell (if such there be) than the biblical writers were aware-of. In both afterlife scenarios, we are only dealing with ideas expressed in one religious tradition. There were other views in antiquity. In the faith of the ancient Israelites, for example, the dead went to Sheol, a common collective afterlife for the departed dead, much like the ancient Greek belief in Hades,⁵ initially a place for all the departed.⁶ Modern ecclesiastical beliefs about Heaven are usually much rosier than we find in the Bible, and contemporary views of Hell are likely to have been influenced to some degree by Dante’s Inferno.⁷

            I called it a passing thought, and so it was, but, after reflecting on it, my reflections led me to this longer essay. I suppose you, reader, have thoughts on the subject?

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

¹Mark 9:43; Matt 13:49-50; Matt 25:41; Rev 14:9-11, 20:12-15, 21:8; Jude 6-7.

²Who knows what a burning of a spirit/soul means, except it is not physical torture.

³A metaphor is an image describing one thing in terms appropriate to another.

⁴Of course, there would be no “days” in the sense of 24 hours, which is tied to the rotation of the earth around the sun, besides there is no night in Heaven (Rev 21:25; 22:5).

⁵Hedrick, Wry Thoughts about Religion, “The Land of Forgetfulness”: http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=sheol

⁶See Alan Segal, “Afterlife,” New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible (Abingdon, 1989), 1.65-68; Richard Bauckham, “Hades, Hell,” Anchor Bible Dictionary (Doubleday, 1992), 3.14-15.

⁷Dante Alighieri, the Divine Comedy, part one is the Inferno. https://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/langdon-the-divine-comedy-vol-1-inferno-english-trans

Intimations of Mortality

The ancient Hebrews believed in Sheol, and the ancient Greeks believed in Hades, both were gray places of departed spirits.  Both post-mortem locations are characterized as places of shades, shadows, and the absence of vibrant life.  Much later the Israelites anticipated the resuscitation of the physical body but the Greeks had also looked forward to the Elysian Fields (or the Isles of the Blessed) as a place of reward for the heroes, sons of the Gods, and those who lived noble lives.  In Christianity, Hell is the eternal fate of the damned, while the righteous will enter the blessed state of Heaven.
             Beliefs are not "intimations of immortality" (Wordsworth).  Intimations are indirect hints or suggestions of a future lying beyond the realm of the physical senses, which cannot be directly experienced.  In our day a hint of a post-mortem future comes generally from surgery patients who claim to have seen a bright light at the end of a long dark tunnel, and simultaneously having experienced feelings of peacefulness and reassurance from deceased friends and family who have "passed on."  Many such intimations that life continues beyond the grave can be found on the internet and in print media. 

 In Hebrew and Hellenistic antiquity there were also intimations of post-mortem survival.  For example, Odysseus sailed to Hades, the place of departed spirits, in the Odyssey (Book 11), where the dead were described as "mere shadows flitting to and fro"—not a pleasant prospect, but a "survival" of sorts.  On a brighter note there were a number of heavenly journeys, similar to the light at the end of the tunnel (See James Tabor, "Heaven, Ascent to" in Anchor Bible Dictionary, 3.91-94).  Paul's trip to Paradise in 2 Corinthians 12:1-4 is the only first-hand reported ascent  in the New Testament, but alas Paul told us nothing (2 Cor 12:4).   

What strikes me about all of these suggested hints that something lies beyond the grave is that the unknown future is generally described from the perspective of the contemporary cultural and religious experience of the individual bringing the report. 

While I am neither a seer nor the son of a seer, I have on two occasions had what I will describe as "intimations of mortality" (my apologies to Wordsworth).  The first occurred in the 1970s during a long transatlantic flight.  While I was in a semi-conscious state (neither awake nor asleep), a poem called itself forth in my head.  That is, it "came to me"; I did not consciously create and craft it.

 

The land is long and empty;

And we dance through it;

Aging moths

Before flickering candles

Casting no shadows.

 

I am not sure I understand the poem, and I do not particularly like my interpretation of it.  The long narrow land, empty and shrouded in darkness, struck me as an utterly alien place devoid of life.  The moths, the only living things in the poem, are insects, which in this instance portray human life as fragile and ephemeral (i.e., "we" in the poem).  The fascination of the moths for the open flame and their macabre "dance" bringing them increasingly closer to self-immolation suggests their inevitable demise; the absence of shadow in a land dominated by candles suggests abject nothingness—not even shadows of the moths survive the dance.  The poem is dismal evoking a sense of complete hopelessness—I am not normally given to such pessimism, and have always been surprised the poem came out of my head. 

The second intimation came on the Greek island of Corfu in 2002: 

 

I awoke from a sound sleep in a clammy sweat, anxious and profoundly disturbed, the sounds of the Ionian Sea faint but distinct beyond the closed shutters of the room.  My vaguely remembered dream replaying itself in my mind only increased my agitation.  I had dreamed that the fabric of reality suddenly split down the side directly in front of me, and for a few seconds I stared into an empty void beyond.  In the second I realized that absolutely nothing lay beyond, I knew my own personal mortality—not intellectually but viscerally (Hedrick, House of Faith or Enchanted Forest. American Popular Belief in an Age of Reason, 60). 
 

I did not at the time consider this dream a supernatural premonition, or a warning from God.  Rather I explained it as a wake-up call from my inner biological clock; it was a reasonable inference considering my advancing years. 

               Both experiences are rather pessimistic hints of a post-mortem future.  Considering my religious background, I do not think that I can easily dismiss these experiences as the result of my cultural and religious experience, as I suggested above was the case with the "lights at the end of the tunnel." My cultural and religious experiences, as most of you know, are heavily invested in traditional religious faith, so I should have expected something a bit more optimistic.  At the very least, however, these two experiences likely are subconscious indications of my repressed fears of a post-mortem future.  I was in control of neither the poem nor the dream, so I must assume each was evoked in some way from within my subconscious. 

               What should be said about intimations of immortality ("the lights at the end of the tunnel") and intimations of mortality ("the empty void beyond")?  Which experience provides a reliable hint of our common but hidden future—if either one?  Another question suggests itself:  why should my "intimations of mortality" be merely an expression of a repressed subconscious fear, but the more popular "intimations of immortality" be regarded as objective proof of life after death?  Why are not both subconscious responses that only tell us about ourselves?

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University