In the Orthodox Church, the resurrection of Christ, the anastasis, is often depicted with Christ standing victorious over the gates of hell. The gates are literally blown off of their hinges, showing the faithful that hell no longer has any power over them. You can see the instruments of torture used by the demonic forces are themselves broken and scattered. Only the Satan—the embodiment of death and wickedness—is left bound in hell. The icon also shows Christ flanked by Moses, King David, and other patriarchs of the Hebrew Scriptures. Jesus himself is seen hauling Adam and Eve out of their graves. He is forcing the reconciliation of the first two humans, the two humans whose disobedience prefigured the rest of creation spiraling out of control. Notice, too, that Jesus is not inviting them out of their graves. He is hauling them, pulling them, yanking them out.
This understanding of the resurrection gets its meaning from the ancient belief that Jesus descended to the realm of the dead on Holy Saturday—the day before the resurrection—and freed those who were captive there. The Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church, for instance, calls his descent into hell “the last phase of Jesus' messianic mission,” during which he “opened heaven's gates for the just who had gone before him.”* This is known as the "harrowing of hell."
This little known belief is common to Roman Catholics, Orthodox Christians, and mainline Protestants. In the Nicene Creed, for instance, Christians say that Jesus “suffered death and was buried”. Jesus suffered death, which in the Ancient world, would have meant that he went to the place of the dead—Sheol, the pit, Hades, or hell. The contemporary versions of the Apostles’ Creed and the Baptismal Covenant make this somewhat more explicit—Jesus “descended to the dead.” But in the traditional language, Jesus “suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried” and “He descended into hell” before rising again on the third day. The traditional language is a much more accurate translation of the Latin: “he descended ad inferna.”
The ramifications of all of this were first pointed out to me by Jeffrey Lee, the Episcopal Bishop of Chicago, but they can be found in many places (see Rob Bell's Love Wins, for instance). The ramifications for each of us and for all of creation are enormous. Hell cannot prevail. The demonic forces that claim power over our lives are powerless. Death has lost its sting. We are now free to live reconciled to God and to one another. We are now free to live into the world that is to come, the re-creation, the world that is not only pronounced good, but is now perfected in Christ. The gates of hell are wide open. No one need go there ever again. Death is swallowed up in death. No one need choose death any more. Ultimately, we have nothing to fear.
And yet we know all too well that is not what happens. For many of us, we cannot help but live in a hell of our own creating. And worse yet, we cannot help creating hell for others. For many of us we cannot help but choose death, again for ourselves and, worse yet, for our neighbors. For many of us, fear and anguish, anger and violence rule the day. We refuse to leave our tombs. We refuse to abandon death. We refuse to acknowledge that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb. We refuse to accept that the gates of hell have been blown off of their hinges and that the weapons of the enemy are broken and scattered. We refuse to leave Satan—our accuser—bound and gagged where he belongs. We have nothing to fear. But we still cannot get out of the grave.
For many of us, our addictions to drugs, to alcohol, to power, to wealth, to our own smug sense of self-worth is too great. Our commitment to the party line or to the “prevailing wisdom” of our side is too gripping. The abusive relationships and bad choices are too attractive. We are too caught up in ideas like “might makes right” or “the more we buy the more we save” or “do whatever feels good”. Racism, homophobia, and other forms of hatred shape too much of our identities. We are too conditioned to shoot first and ask questions later, to fear young black men like Trayvon Martin, or to scapegoat others. We are too quick to turn on those who wrong us. Perhaps worst of all—is this not the core failing of the human condition—we are too fascinated by ourselves and too indifferent to the needs of others.
We are simply unable to let go of the things that lead to death. We are simply unable to give up the things that create hell for ourselves and for others. Somehow, inexplicably, we are too afraid to leave the gates, to be pulled out of our graves, to begin living resurrected lives.
Mark’s Gospel interestingly enough does not include a resurrection appearance of Jesus, at least in the original manuscripts that we have. There are two additional endings to Mark: a short one that says Jesus sent out the disciples after his resurrection and a longer one that tells of detailed appearances to his disciples and others. But in the oldest manuscripts that we have, we read that Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome go to the tomb. When they encounter a young man there, they flee in “terror and amazement” and they said “nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” They have come face-to-face with resurrection and they are terrified of it. Life has overcome death and they cannot speak of it. The gates of hell are blown off the hinges and they have nothing to say. The ancient curse broken, the enemy defeated and yet fear overtakes them.
Of course we know from other sources that those women must have told someone. They must have overcome their fear and spread the news. They must have realized that they now had a choice. They could now choose resurrection, they could choose life, they could choose to leave their own tombs of sorrow and grief and anger and violence because the stone had been rolled away. Perhaps, after they fled, Jesus grabbed them by the hand and pulled them into his risen life. Perhaps, before they had told anyone, Jesus hauled them up and brought them face-to-face with resurrection.
My sisters and brothers the anastasis, the resurrection of Christ, announces to us that hell’s gates are wide open. It announces to us that the demonic forces that claim power over our lives are powerless. Death has lost its sting. We are now free to live reconciled to God and to one another. We are now free to live into the world that is to come, the re-creation, the world that is not only pronounced good, but is now perfected in Christ. These are the enormous ramifications of the Easter moment.
*Quoted in Daniel Burke, “What Did Jesus Do on Holy Saturday?” The Huffington Post. 7 April 2012. <www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/03/jesus-holy-saturday_n_1398224.html>
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