Hell and Hope in von Balthasar:

The Substitutionary Character of Christ’s Descent into Hell and its Implications for the Extent of the Atonement

 

by

John Drury

 

 

While Hans urs von Balthasar’s reflections on Christ’s Descent into Hell have won him accolades, his expressed views on the hope that all will be saved have sparked controversy.  In the face of such a mixed reaction, one wonders whether the two thoughts have any connection.  Is von Balthasar’s hope grounded in Christ’s Descent?  What is the relationship between Christ’s experience of Hell and ours?  In what follows, I will argue that such a connection does exist in von Balthasar, and that the link in the chain is the substitutionary character of Christ’s Descent into Hell. 

            In order to draw out this connection, I will closely engage the von Balthasar texts Mysterium Paschale and Dare We Hope “That All Men Be Saved”?  In order to clarify the language, I will first lay out von Balthasar’s careful distinction between Hades and Hell.  I will then turn to the substitutionary element in von Balthasar’s treatment of the Descent.  From there we will be able to follow his discussion of the extent of atonement and redemption.  I will conclude with some critical comments.[i]

Hades and Hell

            What is the difference between Hades and Hell?  What difference does this difference make?  For von Balthasar, this difference is crucial.  They are two very different “places,” and they come into existence at different times.  This spatial and temporal difference can only be seen in light of the drama of Christ’s Descent into Hell.  Therefore, the insights von Balthasar gleans on the difference between Hades and Hell is a byproduct of his overall theological method.[ii]  He tries his best to shy away from a priori concepts in order to reason a posteriori from the narratives of Jesus Christ.  As von Balthasar explains, “The passage [from Hades to Hell] is, theologically, a leap, and it can only be grounded on Christology.”[iii]

            So what does attending to the drama of Christ’s Descent tell us about the difference between Hades and Hell?  Von Balthasar begins by arranging a whole host of biblical concepts under the more general concept of Hades.  For the sake of understanding, I will lay them out on a spectrum.  At one end of the spectrum is death and the grave.  The Old Testament concept of Sheol is further down the spectrum, although sometimes von Balthasar uses it as a synonym for Hades (MP 153).  Sheol simply stands for the place of the dead (MP 161).  In Sheol all commerce with God is cut off, yet the idea of active divine judgment does not come into play.  The later Jewish idea of Gehenna, however, does include “active aversion on God’s part” (MP 75).  It can therefore be placed at the far end of the spectrum.

            Yet even Gehenna is only a development within the larger idea of Hades.  It is best understood as the lower or worse part of Hades.  Even Paradise is located within Hades.  Gehenna and Paradise are simply two options within Sheol: one for reward, the other for punishment (MP 75).  This kind of thinking can be found in Augustine when he speaks of a higher and a lower infernum (MP 162).  It also explains why Lazarus, located in “Abraham’s Bosom,” can speak to the rich man in Gehenna.

            What is the character of Hades?  For von Balthasar, death “affects the whole person, though not necessarily to the point of obliterating the human subject altogether” (MP 148).  Though the person remains a genuine subject, all activity is ended.  It is a state of pure passivity.  Therefore, the character of Hades is primarily spiritual (MP 163).  The development of the idea of Gehenna shows that a person in Hades may experience torments and judgment.  However, von Balthasar is careful to point out that such a punishment for sin is limited.  The population of Hades does not bear the full weight of damnation (MP 167).

            This limitation is the constitutive difference between Hell and Hades.  Hell is the place where the full weight of sin is carried.  To this place none had gone, until Christ.  The significance of Christ’s Descent is not just his solidarity with the dead in Hades but his carrying of sin into Hell.  In a sense, Hell did not exist before Christ.  Christ creates it by being the first to go there (MP 173).  This is the “theological replacement of Hades by Hell... Hell in the New Testament sense is a function of the Christ event” (MP 172).  Therefore, the good news of the Descent touches all the members of Hades -- from Paradise to Gehenna. 

            So Hades and Hell for von Balthasar are not only different “locations” but also separated by time.  Hell properly so called is the “second death” (MP 168).  Hades properly so called is simply the place of the dead.  All the developments within the Jewish religion up to Jesus’ time were merely variations on Hades.  It was the Christ event that crosses the bridge from Hades to Hell.

            How can this be?  How can a change in the structure of the afterlife occur in a moment?  One might regard von Balthasar’s lumping of all pre-Christ afterlife material under the contingent category of Hades to suggest a sort of “progressive revelation.”  Such a critique misses the significance of von Balthasar’s Christocentrism.  It is not that revelation is progressive in a general sense.  Rather, revelation has a definitive center in Christ, to which all other revelatory material is relative.  Such logic is deeply imbedded in the New Testament, as von Balthasar intimates in his comment on the book of Hebrews:

It is in the Letter to the Hebrews that we are really present at the birth of the concept.  Before the Christological hapax, nothing, either in this world or in the world to come, is absolutely definitive.  But, thanks to the uniqueness of Christ, man comes to the unique and definitive decision (MP 171).

 

Of course, von Balthasar regards many of Jesus’ teachings about the afterlife as descriptive of Hades.  Yet even the words of Christ are relative to his definitive action, since “the pre-Easter Jesus lives toward his ‘hour.’”[iv]  To the substitutionary character of this hour we shall now turn.

The Substitutionary Character of the Descent into Hell

            For von Balthasar, the drama of Good Friday is unmistakably the drama of substitution.[v]  He speaks clearly of the wrath of God being poured out onto Christ (MP 101).  But can the same be said of Holy Saturday?  Does von Balthasar think that Christ went to Hell as our substitute?  Von Balthasar’s account of the Descent into Hell is replete with the language and logic of substitution.[vi]

            In order to sensibly speak of the Descent as substitutionary, von Balthasar must remove the myth of the harrowing of Hell from the center of the discussion.  An inappropriate focus on Christ’s activity in Hell would preclude the language of substitution.  If there is victory in the Descent, it is brought about through passivity (MP 150).  Holy Saturday should be seen “as forming part of the vicarious Passion properly so called” (MP 170).  It was the ultimate result of bearing the wrath of God toward sin. That Christ “preached” in Hell is biblical, but should not be taken in the sense of persuasion, but rather an objective announcement to the dead by the sheer fact of his solidarity with the dead (MP 159).

            Von Balthasar replaces triumphant harrowing with suffering solidarity.  Christ goes to Hell in the same way as all the dead go down.  This “law of solidarity” (165) overrides any thought of Christ’s activity in Hell.  Rather, he is like the dead and with the dead.  Why does von Balthasar place such a rigorous emphasis on solidarity?  One might be inclined to see the principle of solidarity as an end in itself in order to uphold the pathos of God.  Though von Balthasar in no way excludes the suffering of God, it is not his point here.  Rather, solidarity does conceptual work in the service of the more dominant theme of substitution.  When drawing out the significance of solidarity, von Balthasar writes, “in order to assume the entire penalty imposed upon sinners, Christ willed not only to die, but to go down, in his soul, ad infernum” (MP 164).  The penalty of sin is death, for both body and soul.  The penalty was not limited to the body, but “was also a penalty [which] affected the soul, for sinning was also the soul’s work, and the soul paid the price in being deprived of the vision of God” (MP 164).  “[H]e took, by substitution, that whole experience upon himself” (168).  On the cross, Christ experienced in solidarity with us and as a substitute for us the death of the body.  In the Descent, Christ experienced in solidarity with us and as a substitute for us the death of the soul - the second death.  Christ’s “standing for sinful man before God” was made complete in the Descent (MP 161).

            It is precisely in the context of substitution that solidarity finds its meaning and limit.  As explained above, those who died before Christ were held back from the fullness of punishment.  They were suspended in Hades rather than dropped into Hell.  Jesus Christ, according to von Balthasar, was the first to experience Hell.  And he experienced it for them.  In order for the Descent into Hell to be truly substitutionary, it must be unique.  “[F]or the death of Christ to be inclusive, it must be simultaneously exclusive and unique in its expiatory value” (MP 168).  In his solidarity with us, he went beyond us.  As von Balthasar eloquently writes, “[T]he Redeemer placed himself, by substitution, in the supreme solitude” (MP 181).

            The intimate connection between solidarity, substitution, and uniqueness is summarized in the following passage:

This experience has no need to be anything other than what is implied by a real solidarity with the inhabitants of Sheol that no redemptive light has brightened.  For all redemptive light comes uniquely from the one who was in solidarity until the end.  And he can communicate it because he, substitutionally, renounced it (MP 172, italics added).

 

Here it becomes clear why the Descent must not be regarded as a triumphant harrowing of Hell.  For Christ to communicate his redemptive light to the dead, he must be in solidarity with them.  And yet the very basis of his redemption is that he substitutionally and uniquely went beyond them to the very depths of Hell.

            It is here that the note of triumph can return, for the Descent into Hell did accomplish something.  It was an accomplishment by means of passivity and solidarity, but a real accomplishment nevertheless.  By going the distance, Christ took to Hell the sins of the world that were placed on him.  In a sense, Christ’s Descent into Hell created a place for sin (cf. MP 173).  Hell, for von Balthasar, is “a product of the Redemption” (MP 174).  In his passive state, Christ triumphed by means of a contemplative vision of sin.  He did not merely see sinners as individuals or as a group, for that would only be a Descent into Hades in solidarity.  No, Christ descended into Hell, contemplating our sin itself in all its chaos and horror.  And he saw it for us.  He saw it as our substitute.

The Extent of Atonement and Redemption

            Von Balthasar’s illuminating reflections cannot help but raise serious questions about Hell as a real possibility for us.  If Christ was the first to experience Hell, is he also the last?  Does uniqueness imply exclusivity?  Von Balthasar claims, “The object of this visio mortis cannot be a populated Hell, for then it would be the contemplation of a defeat” (MP 173).  Yet he holds back from the implication that Hell is for Christ and Christ alone:

But the desire to conclude from this that all human beings, before and after Christ, are henceforth saved, that Christ by his experience of Hell has emptied Hell, so that all fear of damnation is now without object, is a surrender to the opposite extreme.  We shall have cause to speak of this again later, but even at this stage we have to say that precisely here the distinction between Hades and Hell acquires its theological significance.  In raising from the dead, Christ leaves behind him Hades, that is, the state in which humanity is cut off from access to God.  But, by virtue of his deepest Trinitarian experience, he takes ‘Hell’ with him, as the expression of his power to dispose, as judge, the everlasting salvation or the everlasting loss of man (MP 177).

 

At first glance, such a statement cuts off a discussion of the extent of atonement and redemption.  But upon further reflection, it becomes clear that von Balthasar is simply leaving the question open at this point.  For von Balthasar, Christ’s substitutionary Descent into Hell does not automatically imply universal redemption.  But he is aware that it begs the question.  And von Balthasar does take up this question directly in Dare We Hope.[vii]

            In order to make explicit the subtle connection between Mysterium Paschale and Dare We Hope, I will discuss four areas of overlap relevant to the extent of the atonement: (1) the nature of the atonement, (2) exegetical issues, (3) temporal issues, and (4) the relation of divine and human agency.  It is clear that the thoughts in the latter text do not flow directly from the argument of the former.  Rather, the latter simply picks up questions posed but not adequately addressed by the former.[viii]

            (1) The Nature of Atonement.  As we saw, the Descent into Hell has an unquestionable substitutionary character for von Balthasar.  But if Christ went to Hell in our place, does Hell remain a real possibility for us?  If the penalty for sin has been paid, then it is paid once for all.  Therefore, it will not be paid again.  Von Balthasar reacts negatively to such an argument by necessity.  He finds such thinking too systematic (MP 181).  He prefers a more dramatic or narratological approach.  The substitution of Jesus was certainly for all those who came before him.  They were held in Hades, protected from the fullness of the wrath of God.  He went to Hell in their place.  But he emerges now with the keys to Hell.  Hell is his.  He can do with it what he wills.  Therefore, von Balthasar does not settle the question of the extent of the atonement by reflecting on the nature of the atonement.  A universal substitutionary atonement does necessarily result in a universal redemption.  Such systematizing spoils the freedom of Christ’s story.  Nevertheless, the conjunction of universal language with substitutionary language cannot help but give hope that all will be saved.

            (2) Exegetical Issues.  The discussion becomes much more complicated when von Balthasar turns to particular biblical texts.  In Dare We Hope, he observes two strands of biblical texts regarding the extent of redemption.  There is one strand that focuses on the separation of humanity into the saved and the damned.  The warning passages of Jesus and Paul fall under this heading.  The other strand expresses both God’s intent and accomplishment of universal redemption.  These are especially prominent in, though not limited to, Paul.  Romans 9:32, 2 Cor. 5:14, Col. 1:20, I Tim. 2:4-5, and 2 Pet. 3:9 all stand out.  He argues at length that the first strand are not to be regarded as a “report” of things to come (DWH 32-33).  Furthermore, judgment in Paul does not necessarily mean final separation (DWH 34).  Rather, all of these passages of threat and judgment simply but clearly place the Christian under judgment.  This very existential location before God limits one from synthesizing the two strands.  One is rather obligated to take seriously the threat of judgment, while also hearing the good news that God intends all to be saved.

            (3) Temporal Issues.  The topic of time and eternity always manages to muddy the water.  But it is a necessary aspect of von Balthasar’s reflection.  He explicitly states, “In this final state, there is no time” (MP 50).  What does this imply for the temporality of Christ’s contemplative vision of an unpopulated Hell?  Was this empty Hell a vision of what Hell will always be in its timelessness?  If any were to be sent to Hell, would not Christ have witnessed their timeless Descent?  If he saw none in Hell, surely none will ever be there.  Although this line of thinking is interesting, it is important to note that the timelessness of Hell is not the same as the eternity of God.  Eternity transcends rather than merely abandons time.  Hell is not eternal properly so called.  It is rather a “total withdrawal of any temporal dimension” (DWH 129).  If Heaven is “above” time, then Hell is “below” it.  Therefore, no conclusion can be drawn from Christ’s vision of an empty Hell.  The situation is much the same as with the nature of the atonement and the exegetical reflection: left wide open.

            (4) Divine and Human Agency.  If the redemptive purpose of Christ’s Descent into Hell is universal, as von Balthasar maintains, then we cannot help but wonder whether this divine passivity will be universally effective.

The question is whether God, with respect to his plan of salvation, ultimately depends, and wants to depend, upon man’s choice; or whether his freedom, which wills only salvation and is absolute, might not remain above things human, created, and therefore relative (DWH 15).

 

In approaching this question, von Balthasar tries to avoid two temptations.  The one assumes too God simply depends on human choice.  Many theologians too quickly run to the distinction between the absolute and contingent will of God.  God’s will is not so easily resisted.  The other temptation is trying to know too much about the future by structuring necessities between divine intent and result, and therefore turning possibilities into actualities.  Both temptations work with a priori assumptions about how divine and human agency work.  Both are too easy.  Both try to know too much.

            The answer von Balthasar finally gives by to his question is that both are possible.  The first is the object of fear, while the second is the object of hope.  The possibility remains that God’s love could “one day lose its patience, with the result that he would be forced to proceed on the basis of sheer (punitive) justice” (DWH 165).  We can only hope that the relation of divine-human agency will not remain an ellipse with two foci (divine and human) but converge to a circle with a single focus (divine).  Von Balthasar claims that “hope outweighs fear” (DWH 44).  The relation between the two is not systematic, but personal.  Hopeful fear, not certain knowledge, is the proper position of the Christian.  It is God’s way of throwing our question back at us.  “From being personally addressed in this way, it follows that I may leave concern for the salvation of others up to divine mercy and must concentrate on my own situation before God” (DWH 87).

Critical Reflection

            It has been shown that von Balthasar’s hope that all will be saved dealt with the questions left open by his reflections on Christ’s Descent into Hell.  Although he rejects any systematic conclusions, he takes seriously the implications of the substitutionary character of Christ’s Descent into Hell.  In what follows, I aim to offer an appreciative yet critical commentary on the significance of von Balthasar’s reflections.

            (1) Christocentric reflection on Hell.  Christian discussions of Hell seldom begin with the article of faith that Christ went there.  Von Balthasar’s a posteriori reflection on the drama of Jesus is radical and yet traditional.  It is radical inasmuch as it opens new avenues of reflection.  But it is traditional in that it takes seriously the Christian commitment that Jesus Christ is the center and sense of Scripture.  I would only like to comment that the threefold office may have been helpful.  The threefold office carves logical space for the aspects of the Descent into Hell that von Balthasar wishes to suppress under the aspect of substitution.  Although he justly brings the priestly office into the foreground, he could have made room for the biblical themes of victory and preaching under the offices of king and prophet. 

            (2) Recovery of Substitutionary Atonement.  Von Balthasar has made a thorough recovery of the wrath of God for atonement theology.  He set substitutionary thinking in a creative key, and applied it to a new area of reflection.  By characterizing the Descent as substitutionary, he has freed it from being the sole property of mythic imagery and ransom theories (cf. MP 174).  It also makes talk of the “death of God” more than rhetoric.  By linking solidarity with substitution, divine pathos not only suffers with us but also accomplishes something for us.  The presence of von Balthasar in a modern theological context proves that judicial thinking about the atonement, despite its bad reputation, has not reached the end of its theological rope.

            (3) Significance of the Resurrection.  By bringing the Descent into the foreground, von Balthasar has raised the material significance of the resurrection of Jesus.  Creed and liturgy both point to the significance of the whole triduum.  If no one comes to the Father except through the Son, and the Son is dead on Holy Saturday, then Easter really accomplishes something.  Such an apprehension can make sense of the salvific nature assigned to the resurrection by the speeches in Acts and numerous comments in Paul.  If von Balthasar’s account of Luther and Calvin limiting Christ’s experience of Hell to the cross is correct then his critique is telling (MP 169).  The resurrection for von Balthasar is more than the revelation of the cross.  It is Christ’s return from Hell.  Of course, in following von Balthasar one must be careful to not let Saturday and Sunday overshadow Friday.  The cross still remains the central Christian symbol and the keystone to the New Testament.

            (4) Reverence.  One cannot help but appreciate von Balthasar’s reverent approach to the question of the possibility of Hell.  He makes the question personal and not just speculative.  As we deal with the matter we are under judgment.  This bars us from quick or easy hope for the salvation of all.  It also bars us from quick and easy assumptions that many or even any will be damned.  Rather, our responsibility as Christians is prayerful hope.  He supports this call to hope by the observation that 1 Tim. 2:4-5, which teaches the divine intent for the salvation of all, is set by v. 1 in the context of prayer (DWH 35).  This is not his only defense, but it is certainly the most compelling.  Even in the midst of this reverent hope, one might wonder what the church can teach.  What about the non-Christian neighbor?  What does neighborly love demand?  Only prayerful hope?  May there also be a genuine concern for the other that would call forth witness?  Or is von Balthasar’s personal focus ultimately self-centered?  In his avoidance of systematization, von Balthasar manages to leave some practical questions unattended.

            (5) The Doctrine of God.  A God who is in solidarity with death has obvious pastoral rewards.[ix]  But von Balthasar’s reflections on the hope for universal redemption are equally significant.  He manages to keep a clear distinction and a tight unity between atonement and redemption.  This enables him to hold in tension divine and human agency.  For Protestant readers caught between Reformed and Arminian influences, von Balthasar throws a wrench in the engine.  Neither option seems so obvious.  By calling for hope rather than knowledge, the logic of necessity and possibility that plagues the discussion is cast in a new light.  For von Balthasar, only an unbaptized doctrine of God assumes a priori that all divine actions are irresistible.  Yet it is an equally unbaptized doctrine of God that assumes a priori that human agency is necessarily protected from God’s power.  The Reformed tradition can learn from von Balthasar to leave open the question as to “whether God, with respect to his plan of salvation, ultimately depends on man’s choice” (DWH 15).  The Arminian tradition can learn from von Balthasar that the proper response to “whether [God’s] freedom, which wills only salvation and is absolute, might not remain above things human, created, and therefore relative” (DWH 15) is a genuine hope that God’s freedom will overpower the wills of all human beings.  By stirring the pot in this way, the stale conversation might be given new life.  It seems that in the Roman Catholic von Balthasar, the old intra-Protestant debates may have an unlikely yet indispensable dialogue partner.

 

Spring 2003