1 Pe 3:18-22

5 March 2006

1st Sunday in Lent

“He Descended into Hell”

            There’s a troublesome phrase in the Apostles’ Creed that is largely based on today’s epistle reading.  (I figure you’ve probably already read my sermon title, so I might as well mention it right now!)  It’s in the second section, the one that begins with, “I believe in Jesus Christ.”  Here, we use the newer, ecumenical version that says “he descended to the dead.”  But the traditional version says “he descended into hell.”

            Over the centuries plenty of people have had a problem with saying that Jesus went to hell!  (I can’t imagine why that would be.)  Some churches omit the phrase altogether.  Banu and I have had discussions on which is more fitting to use:  “into hell” or “to the dead.”  She prefers “hell.”  I can go either way.  What the Apostles’ Creed is trying to deal with is what happened after the crucifixion and before the resurrection.

It’s hard to find any Christian who would deny that Jesus’ body was in the tomb.  The question is:  where was his spirit?  The Bible says very little about that.  Page 11 of your worship bulletin has, along with some other relevant scriptures, the way the phrase appears in the original Greek.  It’s not terribly clear, either.  Just what does it mean to say that Jesus “descended into the lowest place”?  [katelqonta ei" ta katwtata]

            We should recognize that the New Testament itself has three different words translated as “hell.”  The first, “Hades” (adh"), like “Sheol” in the Old Testament, is simply the land of the dead.  The second word, “Gehenna” (geenna), is the one associated with fire.  Its roots go back to the valley of Hinnom, where some Israelites burned human sacrifices to pagan gods.  The third word, “Tartarus” (tartaro"), is used only once—in 2 Peter 2:4.  In Greek mythology, Tartarus was said to be as far below Hades as the earth is below heaven.  Friends, that is a long way!  That’s where Zeus had the Titans confined.

            So, as you can see, saying what “hell” means in the Apostles’ Creed hasn’t been easy!  Some people say that “the descent into hell represents the physical agony of death upon the Cross.  It was hellish in its pain.”[1]  Other people say the phrase means that Jesus carried the sins of the world down to hell.

            Another common idea is known as the “harrowing of hell,” the plundering of hell.  Jesus went down to rescue all the righteous dead—the Old Testament saints.  Some would include the honored dead of all cultures prior to Jesus.

            This interpretation sometimes features a struggle with Satan.  Some have been really creative in describing how Jesus kicks open the gates of hell and demands the release of the captives.  One of my teachers had a dim view of this whole scenario.  He didn’t put much stock in portraying Jesus in a boxing match with the devil!  (Judging by the icon on the cover of our worship bulletin, some have pictured it as more of a kung fu match.  The devil is getting a taste of the Lord’s foot!)

            Still other people see the descent into hell as “an opportunity for all [humanity]—in eternity as well as in time—to hear the message of redemption from the Word Himself.”[2]  That would include the “bad guys” and “bad girls,” as well.  That idea may have come from today’s epistle reading.

            Now, having said all that, the idea may occur to you, “What difference does it really make?”  What difference does it make whether we say, “he descended to the dead” or “he descended into hell”?  Well, there are some basic theological differences.  Did Jesus simply die, period?  Did he rescue the righteous dead?  Did he open the way to salvation for every human who has ever lived?

            Those are all meaningful questions.  But there’s still something about the phrase “he descended into hell” that goes beyond words.  There’s something visceral about it.  You can feel it deep inside.

            The creed says that Jesus went down to the very lowest place, and that’s something which resonates with a lot of people.  Banu says that, after seeing me unconscious in the intensive care unit, with all kinds of lines hooked into me and a ventilator tube going down my throat, she can better appreciate Jesus’ descent into hell.  He came down to where she was.

            There is nowhere we have been—no experience we have been forced to endure—that has not been redeemed by Jesus Christ.  That is the nature of God.  We may feel godforsaken, even as Jesus did on the cross, and at the time, it may not matter what anyone says.  But God is still there, still loving us.

            That’s something to keep in mind as we’re getting into the season of Lent.  This isn’t meant to be a time of focusing on ourselves, be it our failures, our pain, our problems, our suffering.  It is meant to be a time of recognizing all that…and of turning towards God for renewal.  We’re reminded that God understands; Jesus has been there; the Spirit empowers us to go forward.

            That’s a message for those who read the First Letter of Peter.  At this time, the Roman Empire is beginning to persecute Christians.  For a while, they were seen as part of Judaism, which is a protected religion.  Jews aren’t required to offer sacrifices to the emperor.  But as time goes on, it becomes clearer that Jews and Christians are going their separate ways, so pressure begins to mount on the Christians to worship Caesar.  This doesn’t become really evident until the final decades of the first century, so it’s likely that the letter, as we have it, was at least partly written by someone other than Peter.

            We need to understand:  it’s not like most Roman citizens really believe that the emperor is a god.  Offering a sacrifice to him is a sign of loyalty; it’s doing one’s civic duty.  Still, a Christian cannot, in good conscience, recognize the deity of Caesar.  In the cultural atmosphere of empire, to say that Jesus—and not the emperor—is Lord is to make a political statement.  “Lord” is a political title.  And so, the apparatus of the state is increasingly brought to bear on Christians.

            That is the context of today’s scripture reading.  Peter is telling his hearers how to behave in a hostile empire.

            In chapter 2 he says, “Conduct yourselves honorably among the Gentiles, so that, though they malign you as evildoers, they may see your honorable deeds and glorify God when he comes to judge” (v. 12).  The apostle is telling them, “Don’t give them an excuse to arrest you.  Don’t give them an excuse to mistreat you.”

He goes on, “Honor everyone.  Love the family of believers.  Fear God.  Honor the emperor” (v. 17).  Contrary to popular opinion, it’s possible to do all of those things.  You need not be brazenly defiant to sincerely hold to your faith in Christ.  However, regardless of how you do that, the authorities still may not care.  They may still come after you.

            And sure enough, just before today’s reading in chapter 3, Peter reminds them that “it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil” (v. 17).  This isn’t some hypothetical situation.  Many in the church are being compelled to choose between serving the empire and serving Christ.

            Peter lets his hearers know that this is to be expected.  It shouldn’t come as a big surprise.  Why is that?  Because “Christ also suffered for sins once for all”—and here’s a key point—“the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God” (v. 18).  Anyone who chooses to walk the path of Christ can expect similar treatment.

            The apostle then deals with this idea I mentioned at the beginning of my sermon.  He speaks, quite literally, of the depth of Christ’s suffering for us.  Peter says that he “made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah” (vv. 19-20).  No one really knows what this “proclamation” is or who these “spirits in prison” are.

            Some say, as I suggested earlier, that Christ is giving the unrighteous dead another chance.  Others say that Christ is telling the powers of evil that their rule has been broken.  In former times, Noah and his family were saved from evil by the ark through water.  That was a forerunner of baptism.

            Peter wants to reassure suffering Christians.  “Their faith (and baptism) has joined them to Christ in a way that they can be confident that where he is, they also will be,” and vice versa—even if they’re at the very lowest place.[3]

            The creed, with supporting scriptures, says that Jesus “descended into the lowest.”  We usually think of that in terms of place, but there is more than one meaning.  We’ve already looked at it in terms of pain and suffering in our lives, but what about in the life of our society?  What, or who, would be the lowest of the low?

            We each have to ask ourselves something, and I won’t pretend that it’s easy.  Who do I consider to be the lowest?  Who do I look upon as lowlife?  Is it a certain kind of criminal?  Is it someone whose beliefs I find repugnant?  Who is it, that being in their very presence, I consider to be hell?  Well, guess what?  Jesus is already there.

            That should give us the incentive to pray for the lowest—to pray that God will bless them, in whatever way God chooses to do so.  If we follow Jesus in prayer, we may actually find ourselves following him in person.  (Imagine such a thing!)  We may actually find ourselves with the lowest, speaking and acting from the love of Christ.

Those we fear and loathe may actually be transformed.  And just maybe, one day soon, we’ll find that it’s we ourselves who have been transformed.

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