Since the introduction of the New Roman Missal in 2010, the
presider can invite the congregation to say either the 4th Century
Nicene Creed or the Apostles’ Creed, the essence of which goes back to the
teaching of the Apostles. Besides being more ancient, the Apostles’ Creed is
simpler in phrasing and choice of words. We seem to like it, except for one
phrase which makes us frown.
Halfway through the Apostles’ Creed we declare about Jesus
that he descended into hell. That
phrase doesn’t appear in the Nicene
Creed at all. What does it mean that he descended into hell?
Our question is modern. Hell, in our day, means only one
thing – the place of eternal punishment after death. But for the ancients, the
word “hell” had many synonyms. It was the grave. The Hebrews called it Sheol.
The Greeks, Hades. These were different from Gehenna - a fiery, always burning
garbage pit outside of Jerusalem – more akin to our modern hell.
But in early Christian theology, the grave or Sheol or Hades or Gehenna, was simply the
gathering place of all who awaited with some peace the opening of heaven by
Christ. The great figures of the Hebrew Bible were there, holy people of
non-Jewish origin, good people like you and me. Another way of saying he
descended into hell is to say he descended to the dead.
Jesus came for everyone, scoops up into his divinely human
embrace all who went before and all who came after him. Death would never be
the end of life. Life would be the true outcome of death.
To say that Jesus descended into hell is to tell us
something about that seemingly barren,
unknown time from the late afternoon of
Good Friday through Holy Saturday. It was not a barren time at all. Sister of
Saint Joseph Eileen Lomasney offers us a poetic picture of this in-between time:
The ancient
grayness shifted And
Moses standing
Suddenly and
thinned Hushed
them all to ask
Like mist
upon the moors If
any had a welcome song prepared.
Before a
wind. If
not, would David take the task?
An old, old
prophet lifted And
if they cared
A shining
face and said: Could
not the three young children sing
“He will be
coming soon. The
Benedicite, the canticle of praise
The Son of
God is dead. They
made when God kept them from perishing
He died this
afternoon.” In
the fiery blaze?
A murmur of
excitement stirred A
breath of spring surprised them,
All souls. Stilling
Moses’ words.
They
wondered if they dreamed – No one
could speak, remembering
Save one old
man who seemed The
first fresh flowers,
Not even to
have heard. The
little singing birds.
Still others
thought of fields new ploughed
Or apple
trees
All blossom
–boughed
Or some the
way a dried bed fills And they, confused with joy
With water Knelt
to adore
Laughing down
green hills. Seeing
that he wore
The
fisherfolk dreamed of the foam Five
crimson stars
On bright
blue seas. He
never had before.
The one old
man who had not stirred
Remembered
home. No
canticle at all was sung
None
toned a psalm or raised a greeting song.
And there he
was A silent man alone
Splendid as
the morning sun and fair Of
all that throng
As only God
is fair. Found
tongue –
Not
any other.
Close
to his heart
When
the embrace was done,
Old
Joseph said
“How
is your Mother?
How
is your Mother, Son?”
~ Sister Joan Sobala
