Review of ‘The Case for Conditional Immortality’ by J. Wenham
This text is from a letter written by David Gooding.
This paper is not perhaps an example of J. Wenham's notable powers of argument at their sharpest. He complains that opponents of conditionalism indulge in circular reasoning, assuming that the Bible teaches what they then prove the Bible to teach (p. 3). And his complaint is fair enough in some cases.
However, his statistical argument is not much better
He says (p. 4), regarding the words which the New Testament uses to describe the ultimate end of the wicked, that 'the words used in their natural connotation are words of destruction rather than words suggesting continuance in torment or misery'.
But the adjective 'natural' in this context is at best inexact, and at worst unfair. He himself points out (p. 5) that the very common word apollumi is frequently used of eternal ruin, destruction and loss, as in John 3:16; but it is also used of the lost sheep, the lost coin and when the lost son who, though metaphorically dead and whose life was in total ruin was restored (see Luke 15). Is, then, what he here calls a metaphorical meaning of the terms 'lost' and 'dead' an unnatural meaning; such that, if one argued that the phrase 'my son was dead' does not mean 'my son was literally or physically dead' but only 'metaphorically dead', one would be guilty of rejecting the natural meaning for an unnatural one?
Similarly, his comment on fire (p. 4–5): 'Fire naturally suggests destruction . . . It has a secondary use as a cause of pain as in the case of Dives'. But is what he calls a secondary use 'unnatural'; such that, if one argues that 'fire' in 'the lake of fire' is intended in this 'secondary' sense, one is rejecting the natural meaning of the word and substituting an unnatural meaning? If it is not unnatural to give 'fire'—actually, the word is 'flame'—in Luke 16 a metaphorical meaning when it describes the sufferings of a lost soul in hades, how is it unnatural to give 'fire' a metaphorical meaning in the term 'the lake of fire', which is also describing the sufferings of lost souls?
To avoid the implication of the linguistic similarity of the terms used for the sufferings both of Dives and of those in the lake of fire, Wenham has to resort to an appallingly low view of the solemn story of Dives: it 'is a . . . fable-parable'. One wonders whether Wenham has stopped to think what the difference is between a fable and a parable. But if it is right to call the story of Dives a fable-parable because its terms 'flame' and 'fire' are not literal, how could he object if someone said that the lake of fire is also a fable-parable? But more of this elsewhere.
His statistical arguments, which fill pages 4–6, 15, and occur also on pages 7–9, are of little worth. Once admitted, as all must admit, that words like 'destroy', 'fire', 'flame' and 'perish' can be used in a metaphorical sense, then the thing which decides whether they are used metaphorically or literally in any given passage is not the statistics of the words' use elsewhere, but the context and subject matter of the given passage. For example, it would be no use arguing that, because 'flame' in two thousand other cases is literal and obliterates its victim, it is therefore unnatural to claim that 'flame' in the Dives story is metaphorical and does not obliterate its victim.
Wenham uses false linguistic logic
When, therefore, Wenham states on page 9, 'The nub of the whole debate is the question of the natural meaning of the texts', it merits the reply, 'Precisely! But how do we decide which is the natural meaning in any one case?'. To define, as on page 4, the natural connotation as being that of 'destruction rather than words suggesting continuance in torment or misery', does the following:
It confuses the issue by an ambiguous use of the word 'natural'.
It presumes that the words 'destroy' and 'destruction' always mean 'annihilation', if only they are allowed their natural meaning.
It involves false linguistic logic. If I use the word 'death' in a physical sense, it implies that the body whose death it is ceases to live on the earth. But if I use the word 'dead' in a metaphorical sense of the moral and spiritual condition like that, say, of the prodigal son, it does not imply cessation of existence. On the other hand, to claim that the metaphorical term 'dead' does not by itself imply 'continuance in torment or misery' is simply stating the obvious. Of course it doesn't. Other words and phrases, literal or metaphorical, would be required in order to indicate 'continuance in torment and misery'. It cannot even tell us, by itself, whether the prodigal's state of death continued for a long or short time. But then neither does it preclude continuance in torment and misery. To argue that the natural meaning of the word 'dead' requires that the prodigal ceased to exist, or became as feelingless as a corpse, rather than that he experienced any misery along with the pigs, would be an obviously false linguistic argument. I might as well argue that the term 'field', when applied metaphorically to believers (see 1 Corinthians 3:9), carries the natural meaning of something impersonal and impassive, rather than suggesting 'continuance in either joy or sorrow'.
Wenham argues:
Twenty cases . . . speak of separation from God, which carries no connotation of endlessness unless one presupposes immortality*: 'depart from Me' (Mt. 7:23) . . . 'outside are dogs etc.' (Rev. 22:15). This concept of banishment from God is a terrifying one. It does not mean escaping from God, since God is everywhere in his creation, every particle of which owes its continuing existence to his sustaining. It means, surely, being utterly cut off from the source and sustainer of life. It is another way of describing destruction.
*We have seen the inadequacy of this kind of argument immediately above.
But this argument is false on more than one count. It confuses the implication of a certain systematic theology with the proper exegesis and exposition of the text of Scripture. In Wenham's system of theology, God is the sustainer of all life, and that to be banished from God's presence means, therefore, to be destroyed. (Here the word 'means' equals 'implies' or 'leads to'.)
But linguistically, 'banishment from God' does not mean 'destruction', or 'being destroyed' in the sense of being a mere synonym for 'destruction'. Take Revelation 22:14–15: 'Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they may have the right to the tree of life and that they may enter the city by the gates'. Why 'blessed'? Because, 'Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and the sexually immoral and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practises falsehood'.
Linguistically, and therefore exegetically and expositionally, that is not the same thing as saying 'Blessed are those who . . . enter the city by the gates, because the dogs etc. are destroyed'. The verses could be saying a) 'Blessed are those who . . . enter, because outside the company is filthy'; or b) 'Blessed are those who wash their robes, because all filthy people are outside and never get in'.
One could then go on to argue that to be kept outside is, according to the context, to be kept from the tree of life, and therefore to be like Adam and Eve when they were put out of the garden, until they eventually died. But that would still leave open to question whether Adam and Eve's death, returning to the dust, was the same kind of death as the second death. Even physical death for Adam and Eve was not immediate upon their exclusion from the tree of life; and it did not involve the destruction of their soul and spirit—unless one holds that the soul and spirit are annihilated at physical death.
Linguistically then, being kept outside the city is not an interchangeable synonym for being destroyed. Moreover, according to Luke 13:23–30, especially 13:27, when the Lord pronounces the sentence 'Depart from me', it is certainly not the linguistic equivalent of 'be destroyed'. For those kept outside by the now closed door are represented as seeing Abraham and all the saints in the kingdom of God, and they gnash their teeth, which of course is not unlike Dives in Hades. He was not destroyed by the flame that tormented him, for he too could see Abraham and Lazarus. And that leads us on to consider Wenham's treatment of the story of Dives.
Wenham confuses literary categories
In order to escape any analogy between the flame of Hades which did not destroy Dives and the flame of the lake of fire which is supposed to destroy the impenitent immediately—as the fire and brimstone destroyed the Sodomites, Wenham has recourse to literary criticism. He writes, 'Luke's story is a highly figurative fable-parable, which, if taken literally, does not agree with the Old Testament' (pp. 15–16).
That it uses figurative or metaphorical language, all would agree: no one supposes that the phrase 'Lazarus in Abraham's bosom' means that Lazarus was sitting on Abraham's lap. But the fact that such phrases are figurative does not mean that Abraham was not actually there, or that Dives was not actually suffering. If a journalist says that Herr Kohl has John Major in his pocket, the language is figurative. However, it is no ground for arguing that the journalist does not wish to imply that Kohl and Major are literal people, or that they are literally engaged in face-to-face negotiations.
There is a fundamental difference between biblical fables and biblical parables. Firstly, in the storyline of fables things are said to happen that do not happen in real life. For example, in Jotham's fable (see Judges 9) trees talk and elect a king over themselves. All the things that happen in the storyline of biblical parables, however, actually happen in daily life: sowers go out to sow, fishermen cast nets, servants trade with talents. But these day-to-day activities point to similar, analogous, but higher activities of sowing, fishing and trading, no less real than their counterparts at the lower level.
It can't be both a fable and a parable, can it? So, to which literary category does Wenham want the story of Dives to belong?
To the category of parable?
He would have to argue that the elements and activities of the storyline—Abraham, Dives, Lazarus; comfort for Lazarus, torment of Dives by flame—are all things that exist and happen in the real world; only in this story they are meant to point to analogous things that exist and happen at a higher level. In that case, it would be a misinterpretation to say that the torment of Dives by a flame points at the higher level—what higher level?—to a flame that does not torment, but simply annihilates instantaneously.
To claim that this story is a parable, the primary aim of which 'is seen to be the necessity of living according to the way God has revealed to us now, there being no room for repentance after death', arbitrarily empties the parable of half its meaning. Granted, it teaches that there is no repentance after death. But the reason why Dives was concerned that his brothers should repent was that, if they did not repent, they would 'come to this place of torment', and not that, if they did not repent, they would be instantaneously annihilated.
To the category of fable?
Then he could argue that in real life, whether in this world or the next, no Dives ever talks to any Abraham, no sinner ever cries for mercy only to find that his suffering continues unalleviated: these are all the unreal elements of the fable's story line.
This would, of course, be an alarming thing to say. It would have the most serious implications for the rest of Christ's parables, if they all could be dismissed as fables.
But even so, even the unreal details of fables point to realities in the experiences of real people. In Jotham's parables, the various kinds of trees that refuse the invitation to be king over the other trees—for example, the olive and the vine—represent people whose functions are so beneficial to others that they have no time or inclination to give up their function in order to reign over others. The bramble, on the other hand, represents people who have no beneficial function, and therefore welcome the opportunity to reign over others so that they can scratch and tear at people. In other words, the details in fables are all exceedingly significant.
But Wenham apparently is not prepared to allow the details of what he claims as a fable to be significant. Dives's torment in Hades represents nothing except annihilation, and his pleas for comfort for himself and warning for his brothers points to nothing in the reality of either the intermediate or the eternal state.
How far are we to allow ourselves the possibility of classing biblical descriptions of the intermediate state as fable? Jude and Peter tell us that in the intermediate state the wicked angels are kept on remand in adamantine bonds and darkness until the Final Judgment. Are we at liberty to class this description also as fable, i.e. as something that does not happen in the real world beyond the grave?
Confused interpretation of the Book of Revelation
Wenham admits that three passages in Revelation (Revelation 14:11; 19:3; 20:10) are difficult for conditionalists. He confesses that, 'certainly, on the face of it, having no rest day or night with smoke of torment going up forever and ever, sounds like everlasting torment' (p. 8). Nonetheless, he advances the following explanation:
As Stott points out, the torment "experienced 'in the presence of the holy angels and . . . the Lamb', seems to refer to the moment of judgment, not to the eternal state."
But this confuses the trial in court, the verdict and the sentencing with the consequent carrying out of the sentence. In earthly courts, it is doubtlessly true that a criminal who knows that he is guilty will suffer anguish of mind during the trial as his evil deeds are exposed, the verdict of guilty recorded and the sentence pronounced. But that anguish, however great, is not to be confused with the pain that ensues when the sentence is thereafter carried out in prison. The anguish of mind during the trial is not part of the punishment, not part of the sentence. It would be an outrage against justice if the judge designed the trial itself as part of the punishment. Nor could the anguish suffered in court, even though that anguish was from the beginning to the end of the trial 'an experience of unceasing and inescapable pain', be regarded as a payment, in part or in full, of the penalty.
So once more, Wenham's exposition seems to be based on a confusion of categories. It might be worthwhile considering the analogy of the parable of the Sheep and the Goats. Having come before the king for trial and having been condemned, the unrighteous 'go away into eternal punishment'. The eternal punishment here is obviously not the anguish they may have felt during the trial.
Wenham's interpretation of Revelation 14:10–11 not only confuses categories but is inconsistent with the description of the Final Judgment given in Revelation 20:11–21:8. According to that passage, first comes the trial, the investigation of the records, and the sentencing (see Revelation 20:11–13). Up to this point, the impenitent are standing before the throne and the Judge. There is no mention of fire and brimstone here! According to our Lord, who is going to be the Judge (see John 5:22–24), not only will the books of records be consulted, but witnesses will be called and precedents quoted (see Luke 11:31–32). The impenitent are then sentenced and are cast into the lake of fire; and it is this lake that is said to burn with fire and brimstone (see Revelation 21:8).
Passages in Revelation that are difficult for conditionalists
Wenham says there are for him three 'difficult' passages in Revelation:
Of these three passages two are concerned with non-human or symbolic figures: the devil, the beast, the false-prophet and the great whore, and only one refers to men. But the imagery is the same and they need to be examined together. (p. 8)
A number of unclarities, if not confusions, nestle here:
- The great whore, Babylon, is not cast into the lake of fire, at least according to Revelation. Her destruction is performed by the beast and the ten kings (see Revelation 17:16: 'shall burn her utterly with fire') and by God (see Revelation 18:8). It is a temporal judgment, i.e. it happens within history. Witness the fact that when it happens the kings of the earth, commercial men, and shipping magnates bewail her fall. In this it resembles the destruction of ancient Babylon by Sennacherib: i.e. an event within history performed by evil men under the providential judgment of God. The beast and the ten kings live on until Christ at his coming consigns the beast and his false prophet to the lake of fire.
It is, of course, very reasonable to suggest that Babylon in Revelation is a symbolic figure. But if so, then by definition you cannot resurrect a politico- religio-commercial system, stand it before the great white throne, and then cast the system into the lake of fire. You can only do that with persons. When death and Hades are said to be cast into the lake of fire, the meaning is different: death and Hades are not represented as standing before the Final Judgment and then condemned and cast into the lake of fire as a punishment upon them. What is meant is that the intermediate states, brought about for mankind by the fall, are now no longer required and are merged with the lake of fire as institutions.
It is therefore a confusion to speak of the fires of God's temporal judgment, carried out by evil men—the beast and his ten kings; or by nature as in the case of Sodom, as if those fires were the same and identical thing as the eternal fires of God's eternal judgment. More of this later.
The only way that you could have Babylon being thrown into the lake of fire would be if you treated the whole of the Revelation as nothing more than a kind of opera, in which the lake of fire also was only a symbol. So you could then have Democracy, represented by a woman, being destroyed by being thrown into a symbolic fire, or put into a symbolic coffin and symbolically buried. But in real life, death is not a symbol, it is an institution. And likewise the second death, which takes the place of the first death. However, much of the description of the lake of fire is metaphorical: the lake of fire, the second death, is not a symbol but a reality. Democracy, the political principle, cannot be thrown into the lake of fire; but democrats, real people, could be.
- We can agree with Wenham that the devil is a 'non-human'; but he, of course, is not a symbolic figure, but a person. Revelation 20:10 says that, when the devil is thrown into the lake of fire, he and the beast and the false prophet 'shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever'.
Let's leave aside the beast and the false prophet for a moment. The devil is a fallen angel and not a human being; we grant Wenham that. But on page 8 he says 'these immoral Christians will suffer the same fate as the fallen angels: nether gloom till the day of judgment, then destruction'; by which he means annihilation, presumably by being cast into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels (see Matthew 25:41).
Wenham bases this on his interpretation of Jude 6 and 7, which he takes to mean that, after being kept on remand until the judgment of the great day, the fallen angels will be destroyed in the same way as Sodom, Gomorrah and the surrounding cities were destroyed. We shall later show that his interpretation of these two verses is not correct. But for the moment we can at once see that it is inconsistent both with Matthew 25:41–46 and Revelation 20:10. We have already noticed that according to Revelation, when the devil is thrown into the lake of fire—which is presumably the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels—he shall from then on 'be tormented day and night for ever and ever' (Greek: 'unto the ages of the ages', which is the strongest way of saying 'everlastingly' in the New Testament) and not 'destroyed at once' or even 'tormented for a long time and then destroyed'. If that is what the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels will do for the devil, i.e. everlasting torment, on what grounds are we to think that it will not do the same for the fallen angels? For they are non-humans just as Satan is.
But in this connection, Wenham's distinction between non-humans and men is not in any case relevant. For according to Matthew 25 and Revelation 20–21, men are cast into the same eternal fire as non-humans; and in Matthew 25:46 the result for the humans is 'eternal punishing'—the Greek word kolasis is an active verbal noun, and means 'punishing'—which is evidently the same idea as Satan being tormented day and night for ever and ever. In light of this, Wenham's suggestion (p. 7), that it would be proper to translate kolasin aiōnian as 'punishment of the age to come . . . which would leave open the question of duration', looks very strange.
Wenham regards the beast and the false prophet as definitely not men, though whether he takes them to be non-humans, i.e. demons, or as symbolic figures he does not say. His point in claiming that the beast and false prophet are not men is to argue that what is said of the beast and false prophet—namely, that they shall suffer endless torment in the lake of fire—cannot rightly lead us to think that human beings, cast into that same lake of fire, will likewise experience eternal torment.
But how would Wenham prove that the beast and false prophet are symbolic figures and not persons? The mere fact that they are depicted as beasts does not prove that they are impersonal systems. Christ himself is depicted as a lion and as a lamb with horns. In Daniel, a beast can represent both an empire and, on other occasions, the reigning emperor. Why not in Revelation? Present antichrists, according to 1 John 2, are human beings. Shall the antichrist not be human as well? The true Christ is a human being, not a symbolic figure. Shall the 'man of sin', ho anthrōpos tes anomias, turn out not to be an anthrōpos at all? Wenham's distinction is not necessarily convincing; it is certainly a poor basis for the far-reaching argument he wishes to build on it.
Wenham's discussion of the meaning of aiōnios (p. 7) is flawed
It may be true that the word has two aspects: one qualitative, which is best translated 'eternal'; and one of temporal limitlessness, which can be rightly translated 'everlasting'.
Let us accept also his description of the qualitative aspect, quoted from Fudge, whom I have not read:
a relationship to the kingdom of God, to the Age to Come, to the eschatological realities which in Jesus have begun already to manifest themselves in the Present Age.
But he nowhere proves from Scripture—is it provable?—that aiōnios can be used in the qualitative sense without also simultaneously carrying the temporal limitlessness sense.
He advances a number of arguments in an attempt to prove it, but they are all inadequate.
Wenham's understanding aiōnios
With regard to eternal life, here of course the 'qualitative' sense is good. But Wenham offers evidence to show that everlastingness is not involved in aiōnios when it is a question of aiōnios life:
When I analyse my own thoughts, I find that (rightly or wrongly) everlastingness has virtually no place in my concept of eternal life. Everlasting harp playing or hymn singing or even contemplation is not attractive. (p. 7)
But of what weight are Wenham's subjective feelings in settling the meaning of the word aiōnios?
God is eternal (see Romans 16:26), but is he so only in the qualitative sense, and not also in the temporal limitlessness sense? Would Wenham find unattractive the fact that God's existence is everlasting?
When he decries everlasting harp playing or contemplation as unattractive, from where does he get the idea in the first place that these particular activities shall be carried on continuously? Are they ever described in Scripture as aiōnios? Is he mistaking 'continually' for 'continuously'?
But then he states what it is about the qualitative sense of eternal life, as distinct from the everlastingness of it, that he finds attractive:
What the heart yearns for is deliverance from sin and the bliss of being with God in heaven, knowing that the inexorable march of death has been abolished for ever.
But the very phrase, 'the inexorable march of death', implies progress of time, the unavoidable approach of death. And why would the approach of death be unwelcome, if not because death would bring all bliss to an end? So Wenham does after all yearn for a life that is not only eternal but everlasting. A qualitatively eternal life would, on his own confession, not yield him so much bliss if its everlastingness were threatened by death!
Then Wenham states that 'the ultimate contrast is between everlasting life and everlasting death' and adds 'life is the absence of death and death is the absence of life'. And from this, he seems to want to argue that eternal life and eternal death are not everlasting in the same sense: they are not equal and opposite concepts; you would not call flowers that had died everlasting flowers, however long they existed in their dead state.
But the New Testament does not use the term 'eternal death', does it? Also, Wenham confuses the issue by lumping together all the varied meanings of 'life' and 'death'. Physical death is certainly the absence of physical life; the two cannot coexist. But spiritual death can coexist with physical life in this world (see Ephesians 2:1; 1 Timothy 5:6). And spiritual death, being what it is, does not imply the non-existence of the person who is spiritually dead. In this world, it also makes sense to talk of the duration of spiritual death—'How old were you before you became a Christian and were made alive in Christ?'; and in the world to come, it is not a nonsense statement to talk of people existing everlastingly in a state of spiritual death. Just as eternal life does not mean simply the everlasting perpetuation of a person's existence; so the second death does not mean the cessation of a person's existence.
He suggests that kolasis aiōnios should be translated by 'punishment of the age to come', which would leave open the question of duration (p. 7). We have already shown this to be quite false. But the argument with which he here tries to support it is also false. He says: 'The Matthaean parallel to the aiōnios of Mk. 3:29 is indeed "age to come" (Mt. 12:32)'. What our Lord says in Mark 3:29 is that 'whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an aiōniou sin'. To translate this as 'is guilty of an age-to-come sin' would, in the first place, be a kind of gibberish. To say that to call a sin aiōnios is to indicate its quality of being related to the kingdom of God and to the age to come, without implying anything about its duration, would be equally unhelpful. Christ explains, both in Mark and in Matthew, what he means: blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is an eternal sin in the sense that it can and will never be forgiven, neither in this life—however long this life lasts, nor in the age to come—however long that lasts. It is the everlastingness of the impossibility of forgiveness that is in view. And if the sin can never be forgiven, the penalty can never cease—unless one assumes that, in spite of the penalty being described as eternal punishing, it will in fact be annihilation and extinction.
When he says that 'heaven and hell, eternal life and eternal punishment . . . both are real, but who is to say that one is as enduring as the other?', the answer is: Christ does. He uses the adjective aiōnios of both. And the explanations that Scripture gives show that there is an element of temporal limitlessness in both.
Wenham's observations on the Christian doctrine of the resurrection of the body
Wenham's observations on the Christian doctrine of the resurrection of the body (p. 5, penultimate paragraph), though correct in themselves, seem to be made for the purpose of drawing out implications that are not in fact implied. It is perfectly true that
the teaching of the New Testament is to be sharply contrasted with the Greek notion of the immortality of the soul, which sees death as the release of the soul from the prison of the body.
Certainly, the New Testament has a higher view of the value and importance of the body than that, and teaches that the body shall one day be redeemed. Nor shall our salvation be complete without it.
But Peter describes his physical death as his 'exodus'; i.e. his going out of his 'tent' that is his body. While he lives still in this world he is 'in his tent'; when he dies he 'puts off his tent'. Paul likewise states (2 Corinthians 5) that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. He longs for the time when he shall be clothed upon with his house from heaven at the resurrection; but he envisages the possibility of an interim period when he will be naked; not the ultimate and ideal, but far better than life in the body here (see Philippians 1). The Christian doctrine of the importance of the resurrection and redemption of the body does not imply that, when the earthly body dies, the person, the soul and the spirit cease to be until the Parousia. Did the Man Jesus cease to exist when he was in the grave?
Wenham's last phrase in this paragraph, 'Life is contrasted with death, which is a cessation of life, rather than with a continuance of life in misery', seems, at first sight, not to follow on logically from his previous remarks—its confusions have already been dealt with above; but the thought flow seems to be that, while 'life beyond death is repeatedly taught in Scripture' (p. 6), the second death brings all life, body, soul and spirit to an end: this is death in its finality. No part of an impenitent person survives that death; no body, of course, but no soul either; for the soul is not inherently immortal. That is a Greek idea, standing in contrast with the Christian doctrine of salvation, which is not the survival of the soul but the resurrection of the body. 'Perdition', 'destruction', etc. means 'death which is a cessation of life, rather than with a continuance of life in misery'.
It is enough to point once more to the beast. At Revelation 17:8, forewarning is given that the beast 'goes into perdition'—or, destruction (Greek = apōleia). That destruction is effected by his being thrown into the lake of fire. This is death in its finality, according to Wenham, and not a continuance of life in misery. But what in fact happens to the beast in the lake of fire? As we have already seen, he 'shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever' (Revelation 20:10). It is useless to try to escape this plain language by urging that the beast is a symbolic figure—abstract principles or systems like democracy or capitalism cannot be tormented. And important as the doctrine of the soul is, we have no need to argue the matter here, as the plain statement of Scripture is enough to show that the second death does not imply the cessation of life and consciousness; it will involve continuance in misery. True, Scripture does not call that 'continuance in misery' life, but death. Death however does not mean cessation of existence.
Wenham's quotation from The Pilgrim's Regress
On pages 11–12, Wenham's long quotation from the beginning of The Pilgrim's Regress by C.S. Lewis is very strange.
The description given to John by the Steward of the Landlord, who was very kind but would put his tenants into a dreadful black hole if they broke the rules, is in C. S. Lewis's book a description of a person who preaches the law without the gospel, who doesn't keep the law himself, and then tells other people that it doesn't really matter.
Wenham seems to take this as a valid argument against eternal punishing and as an example of how belief in eternal punishment makes a genuine preaching of the gospel of the love of God sound so hypocritical as to be incredible. This at least seems to be Wenham's own view.
But in C. S. Lewis's allegory, when John eventually gets converted and believes the gospel, he is taught that hell and eternal, conscious punishment are real, and are not inconsistent with the love of God.
Therefore, questions arise. Why does Wenham quote with approval the attitude of unconverted John, and disapprove of the attitude and beliefs of converted John? And why does Wenham quote the beginning of the allegory and not the end, for it makes it look as if C. S. Lewis agreed with Wenham's annihilationism, when the very opposite is true?
The case of Sodom and Gomorrah
But now it is time to make a more positive approach. The case of Sodom and Gomorrah as described by Jude is so frequently quoted by Wenham and conditionalists that it would be good to enquire exactly what it says. But first some Greek:
Dikēn hypechein means 'to suffer the just penalty'.
The crime for which the penalty is suffered is generally put in the genitive case: e.g. phonou dikēn hypechein means 'to suffer the just penalty of murder', i.e. to suffer the punishment for having committed murder.
If the nature of the punishment is mentioned, it is often put in the accusative case, thus standing in apposition to dikēn. Thus in 2 Thessalonians 1:9, though here with the verb tinein instead of hypechein: dikēn tisousin olethron aiōnion; i.e. they shall pay the penalty of eternal destruction, where eternal destruction is in apposition to penalty because eternal destruction is not the sin for which the penalty is paid, but the penalty itself.
But sometimes the genitive case—and not the accusative—is used to indicate the penalty: thanatou dikēn hypechein could, and most probably would, mean to suffer the punishment of death, i.e. death is the punishment.
Now Jude 7: 'Sodom and Gomorrah . . . prokeintai deigma puros aiōniou dikēn hypechousai'. The question is: how is this sentence to be construed? The possibilities are:
Take the genitives puros aiōniou with deigma, which will yield the meaning: 'Sodom and Gomorrah in suffering punishment are set forth as an example of eternal fire'.
Take puros aiōniou with dikēn hypechousai, which will yield the meaning: 'Sodom and Gomorrah are set forth as an example, in their suffering of the punishment of eternal fire'.
What is the difference? The first says that the cities, in suffering their punishment
of destruction by fire—a temporal punishment of physical fire, are set forth as an example of what the far more serious punishment of eternal fire will be. The second says that the cities suffered the penalty of not just physical fire, but eternal fire; that they suffered not just a temporal punishment but an eternal punishment. They are set forth as an example because the eternal fire which they suffered is the same thing as the lake of fire which shall destroy all other unrepentant sinners.
Unfortunately, Greek grammar and syntax cannot decide between these two. If Jude had intended to say that they suffer the penalty of eternal fire, then he could have said, according to good Greek idiom, pur aiōnion (accusative) dikēn hypechousai. But one cannot say he must have employed the accusative, as Paul does in 2 Thessalonians 1:9, for Greek can also use the genitive to describe the penalty. The only thing one can say is that pyros aiōniou coming immediately after deigma would more naturally be construed with deigma than with the following dikēn. Compare the word order in 2 Thessalonians 1:9, where olethron aiōnian comes after dikēn and verb.
Most commentators say dogmatically that puros aiōniou should be taken with dikēn, and so make Jude say that Sodom and Gomorrah are actually suffering the penalty of eternal fire, and in so doing are set before us as an example, or sample. But not all say so. Michael Green (Tyndale New Testament Commentary: Jude, p. 167) comments:
. . . but normally in Scripture, eternal fire means hellfire; so the meaning probably is that their fiery destruction was a foretaste of that eternal fire which awaits the devil and all his accomplices . . . .
Theologically, the difference between the two translations is very important. Are we to think that the fire that Sodom and Gomorrah suffered was the actual fire of the lake of fire?
(There is a way of getting around this, and that is to reduce aiōnion here to 'perpetual' instead of 'eternal'; to refer this 'perpetual fire' to the bitumen fires which engulfed Sodom and which still continue to smoulder; and to translate 'in suffering the punishment of perpetual fire [physical and temporal] they are set forth as an example [scilicet, of eternal fire]'. But in Scripture, as Green points out, 'eternal fire' normally means 'hell fire'. And secondly, a reduced meaning of aiōnion would be most unusual in the New Testament.)
Philo thought that the bubbling bitumen around Sodom was the actual fires of hell. Was that not simply superstition? If they suffered, and still suffer, the actual eternal flames of the lake of fire, then they must have suffered summary judgment without first waiting, like the angels, for the great day of judgment, and without waiting for the resurrection of damnation. The beast and the false prophet would be another example of such summary judgment. But even so, the physical bituminous fires that engulfed these cities and their citizens on earth were not the fires of the lake of fire, were they? Surely the physical earthly fires were merely the means of ushering them into the eternal fires.
This raises the general point. However severe God's judgments were in the Old Testament—for example, Adam's death, the flood, Korah, Dathan and Abiram, they were not the same thing as the lake of fire, were they? They were temporal judgments, not the eternal judgment. They may well be prototypes of the Final Judgment, but it would be quite false to claim that the terms 'destruction', 'perdition', etc. mean exactly the same thing when used of eternal judgment as they do when applied to temporal judgments. And how many of the instances of judgment, which are quoted by the conditionalists from the Old Testament, are instances of temporal rather than eternal judgment? Clear examples of this difference are given in Revelation. For instance, the great armies of Revelation 19:19–21 are killed and their corpses devoured by birds. But they rise at the resurrection to stand before the great white throne. Similarly, fire comes down from heaven and destroys the hordes of Gog and Magog (see Revelation 20:7–10). But unlike the devil, they are not consigned immediately to the lake of fire. They too have to be raised to face the Final Judgment before they are cast into the lake of fire.
Now on to two more theological points.
First theological point
Wenham believes that the impenitent are resurrected and are judged according to their works and sentenced accordingly.
His suggestion (p. 12), that a major part of their punishment will be a realization of the true awfulness of their sin in its crucifixion of the Son of God and in its effect upon others, is astonishing. If such a realization were genuine, would it not be the dawn of repentance? The impenitent will never be even horrified at the crucifixion of Christ, for they will never repent of the rebellion that crucified him. Is Wenham saying that, although the impenitent come at last to see that their rebellion crucified Christ and admit the horror of it, God annihilates them nonetheless? The impenitent persist in their rejection of Christ. Like Pharaoh under the plagues, they may protest that their suffering is a living death, and plead for it to be removed. They may dislike the consequences of sin, but they, like Pharaoh, will never repent of the sin of rejecting Christ.
So now let us follow the course of events envisaged by the conditionalists. The impenitent are made to undergo punishment in the lake of fire in various degrees, according to their works. Let us suppose, as Wenham holds, that punishment, however long, is finite. When they have borne it all, then they are surely acquitted, aren't they? They would be if they were under a truly just legal system on earth. Why then are they not set free, instead of being annihilated at that point?
Shall we say: 'For having rejected the Saviour'? But if they have themselves borne all the punishment due to their sins, they don't need a Saviour!
Shall we say then, though now quit of the penalty of all other sins, they are annihilated at this stage for the one sin of still refusing fellowship with God and Christ? No amount of suffering could ever suffice to pay the penalty of that sin as long as they persist in it. So, knowing that they would forever persist in it if they were allowed to continue to exist, God annihilates them so that they cannot persist in rejecting fellowship with him. According to Wenham it is God, and not just their own sin, who annihilates them. His frequently cited model is Sodom and Gomorrah. It was the God-sent flames that destroyed Sodom; it was not that their own sin simply caused them to rot away.
If that is so, then it is Wenham's God who is the tyrant, in spite of Wenham's protest (p. 17, note 31). He says in effect to his creatures: 'You shall agree that I am worthy of your love, and you shall desire to have fellowship with me, or I shall annihilate you'. How then can Wenham escape the charge that levels against the traditional view, using the imagery borrowed from C. S. Lewis: 'the child knows that he has got to say that he loves him, when in reality he loathes him' (p. 17, note 31).
The God of the Bible says: 'In spite of my love and willingness to forgive; in spite of all my pleadings and the reconciliation made possible by the divine sufferings at Calvary; and in spite of all my warnings of the eternal misery you will bring on yourselves—if, with your eyes open, you reject me, I allow your choice'.
But Wenham seems to have two possible grounds for arguing that annihilation is preferable:
- Annihilation, in spite of its representation as a lake of fire and talk of people being tormented in it, is in fact a merciful act on God's part: a coup de grâce, a mercy killing; not an act of wrath but a kindness, a form of euthanasia. On hearing this 'gospel'—this explanation, apparently the unconverted will perceive that God is indeed all-loving and the lake of fire is a compassionate means of putting an end to what otherwise would be interminable suffering. In that case, the imagery of 'a lake of fire' is surely unfortunate. But this goes quite counter to the archetypal judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah. That was an expression of God's wrath, not of his compassion. And again, this would contradict all that Wenham quotes with approval from Fudge (pp. 14–15), where annihilation is in fact an act of God's wrath.
So how does Wenham escape the charge that he levels against others, that God says in effect to his creatures: 'You shall love me, or else in my wrath I shall destroy you'? The answer (see p. 12) seems to be that swift, instantaneous annihilation is a just punishment, whereas unending torment would be sadism. But if so, Scripture itself represents God as sadistic. Being a creature, God could instantaneously destroy Satan in the lake of fire, like how Nebuchadnezzar's furnace destroyed Nebuchadnezzar's officers. But Scripture says that Satan and the beast and false prophet shall be tormented in the lake of fire day and night for ever and ever. No appeal to metaphor, parable, fable, historical precedent, etc. can turn this kind of phraseology into a statement to the effect that they shall not be endlessly tormented, but instantaneously annihilated.
- The other possible ground would be to say that the sufferings of the lake of fire are simply the consequences of the people's own sinfulness: their own sin destroys and annihilates them. And Wenham does indeed appear to say this (p. 10):
In personal talks I often find myself explaining the self-destructive power of sin and of its ultimate power to destroy absolutely. I explain that that is how God has made the world. Judgment expresses his wrath against the abominable things which he hates.
But what does this last sentence mean? That if I abuse alcohol, I will get cirrhosis of the liver because of the way God has made me; and this consequence is all that is meant by God's wrath? And that it is not God who destroys me, but my own sin?
But once more, even if this is in part true, it is not the whole truth. The sexual immorality in ancient Sodom might well have destroyed the citizens physically in the end. But the fire and brimstone from heaven was not to be confused with that. It was not a consequence of their sin; it was God's wrath on them for sinning. If Sodom's sins were going to destroy them all in the end, why did God trouble to rain fire and brimstone upon them? And if human sin is bound to annihilate the impenitent in the world to come, why does God trouble to annihilate them himself?
Second theological point
Wenham objects:
. . . if there are human beings alive suffering endless punishment, it would seem to mean that they are in endless opposition to God, that is to say, we have a doctrine of endless sinning as well as of suffering. How can this be if Christ is all in all? (p. 12)
But Christ warns us that there will be an 'outer darkness'. Jude tells us that the rebellious angels are presently reserved in chains under darkness unto the day of judgment (Jude 6). Darkness for them has not hitherto meant annihilation. Jude adds that, for some people, the blackness of darkness is reserved not temporarily unto the day of judgment, but for ever (Jude 13).
Wenham counters (p. 18) by quoting Revelation 22:5, 'there will be no more night'. But both Revelation 22:5 and 21:25, the latter explicitly, are describing what it is like inside the city; they are not denying that there will be an outside. If Scripture says that there will be an outer blackness of darkness for ever, it is serious if we allow our little systems of theology to contradict it.
Conditionalists' interpretation of Isaiah 66:24
And finally, how long will conditionalists go on interpreting Isaiah 66:24 to mean the opposite of what it says? If carcases were annihilated by worm and fire, no one could go out and look on them. Where no material is, the fire goes out. Isaiah is saying that, contrary to what happens when natural processes are left to themselves, the carcases of the sinners shall be miraculously maintained. And our Lord applies this warning to the higher, spiritual and eternal level.
