Irenaeus and Continuance (Part 3): Enduring Questions

Note: This article is part of a series. Part 1 established Irenaeus’s systematic theology as supportive of Conditional Immortality. Part 2 addressed modern scholars and critics of this view and their interpretations of Irenaeus. Part 3 below explores how Irenaeus fits into the theological life of the church in its historical unfolding. You can also view the entire article in PDF here.

 

The previous sections of this paper identified Irenaeus’s systematic theology as supporting conditional immortality not as an exception local to one passage but as a rule, and carried out a discussion with modern critics of conditionalism. The rest of this paper is given over to fitting Irenaeus into the theological life of the church in light of his predecessors, teachers, contemporaries, and incorporation into later theology.

Tracing Irenaeus’s Influences

Irenaeus of Lyons joins his predecessor, St. Ignatius of Antioch, in emphasizing the intimate connection between life, immortality, and union with God, reflecting a shared theological tradition among early Christian thinkers. Ignatius describes the Eucharist as “the medicine of immortality and the antidote that we should not die but live forever in Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 20.2). This striking image resonates with Irenaeus’s description of the bread and cup as conveying the promise of immortality: “For as the bread from the earth, receiving the invocation of God, is no longer common bread, but Eucharist … so also our bodies, being nourished by it and deposited in the earth, and suffering decay there, shall rise at their appointed time” (Against Heresies 4.18.5). Both writers emphasize that participation in Christ (through the concrete means of the Eucharist) mediates eternal life to those united with Christ, presenting it as central to the Christian hope.

This shared Eucharistic theology directly informs their understanding of sin and its consequences. Ignatius warns, “Let us not, therefore, be insensible to His kindness. For were He to reward us according to our works, we should cease to be” (Magnesians 10). Similarly, Irenaeus asserts that separation from God results in death and decay: “If He were to withdraw Himself entirely, all things would utterly perish, and all existence would be at an end” (Against Heresies 2.34.3). For both, life is not an inherent property of human nature but a divine gift sustained by communion with God. Sin and unholiness, as acts of separation and ingratitude, lead naturally to the just outcome of ceasing to exist.

These parallels suggest that Irenaeus builds upon themes found in Ignatius’s writings, integrating them into a broader theological framework. Ignatius’s emphasis on the divine sustenance of life resonates with Irenaeus’s fully developed anthropology and eschatology, in which life and immortality are gifts mediated through union with God. Whether or not Ignatius explicitly held a conditionalist view, his teaching aligns with the tradition that life, immortality, and judgment are inextricably tied to a repentant walk with God, a tradition that Irenaeus develops into a more systematic articulation of conditional immortality.

St. Aphrahat of Syria (b. 280 AD) also reflects certain parallels with Ignatius and Irenaeus. In his 22-part series Demonstrations, Aphrahat emphasizes the soul’s dependency on the spirit for animate existence and highlights the unique role of the Holy Spirit for believers, contrasting it with the ‘animal spirit’ in unbelievers (Demonstration 8.23 cf. 6.14). However, while Irenaeus teaches in Against Heresies 2.34.1 that souls in Hades are sensate, Aphrahat asserts they are insensate, as the spirit resides with God during this period (Demonstration 6.14; 8.20). Aphrahat identifies this state of soul sleep as reflecting “the faith” and the universal teaching of the Church (Demonstration 8.20; 22.26). This discrepancy means that Aphrahat could not have derived this doctrine directly from Irenaeus’s writings. Instead, this suggests the shared ideas between them, both the dependence of the soul on the spirit and the resurrection to mortality (as noted earlier in discussion of Fragment of Irenaeus 12), were widespread enough in early Christian thought to be discovered without sharing specific writings.

Soon after Irenaeus, Origen of Alexandria and his universalist contemporaries expanded discussions on final punishment by proposing that all souls would ultimately be reconciled to God. While Origen became a controversial figure, the debates surrounding him primarily focused on his speculative cosmology and the preexistence of souls, rather than his universalist theology. By contrast, Gregory of Nyssa, another prominent universalist, faced no such controversy and played a key role in shaping orthodox theology. The seventh ecumenical council (Nicaea II) praised Gregory as “the father of fathers,” even as it reaffirmed the fifth ecumenical council’s condemnation of universalism and Origen’s speculative teachings.

This historical context suggests that early Christianity, particularly during the time of the first ecumenical council, maintained a degree of tolerance for diversity in eschatological views. Final punishment, though discussed, was not yet deemed central enough to cause division. When later theological developments led to the formal condemnation of universalism, these anathemas targeted specific doctrines, such as the denial of “punishment without end” (Nicaea II). Importantly, these condemnations left room for interpretations like conditionalism, which affirm punishment’s finality while rejecting the necessity of eternal torment.

Athanasius of Alexandria, writing well after Irenaeus, begins with the same foundational principle that sin draws a person toward corruption and non-being. In On the Incarnation 4, he writes, perfectly in line with Irenaeus, that “the transgression of the commandment was making them turn back again according to their nature; and as they had at the beginning come into being out of non-existence, so were they now on the way to returning, through corruption, to non-existence again.” Like Irenaeus, Athanasius underscores God’s commitment to His creation, declaring: “It was impossible, therefore, that God should leave man to be carried off by corruption, because it would be unfitting and unworthy of Himself.” Unlike Irenaeus, however, he always attributes this concern as due to God’s own worthiness; he does not weigh any individual’s misery or God’s pity, or even God’s affection toward any person.

So Athanasius has in effect added a new dimension to this tradition, one absent from the writings of Irenaeus. The outcome of this can be seen in On the Incarnation 9, where he writes: “through this union of the immortal Son of God with our human nature, all men were clothed with incorruption in the promise of the resurrection. For the solidarity of mankind is such that, by virtue of the Word’s indwelling in a single human body, the corruption which goes with death has lost its power over all.” He teaches that God could be credited with justice in decreeing the penalty of corruption leading to nonexistence, but could not ultimately carry it out because it would discredit Him as creator. Instead, through the Incarnation and the shared nature of Christ with all humanity in common, God causes man to share a universal resurrection to incorruption, thus utterly removing the penalty of death. But this does not directly imply universal salvation, and in fact Athanasius does not address it as salvation. In place of death, Athanasius asserts in On the Incarnation 56, is the wholly different penalty of “the eternal fire,” which he explains at the end of his Festal Letter 3 to mean that the wicked “have the due reward of their folly, since their expectation will be vain through their ingratitude; for there is no hope for the ungrateful. The last fire, prepared for the devil and his angels, awaits those who have neglected divine light. Such then is the end of the unthankful.”

The change of direction in the reasoning here is almost stunning; Irenaeus speaks of God’s compassion and desire to save each and every person leading to actually saving those who appeal to Him from the fate they are in by nature, leaving those who separate themselves from God in exactly the same trouble all were in before; while for Athanasius, according to the consensus interpretation, God’s self-motivated desire to remove death does remove the danger of corruption, but replaces it with a strangely opposite danger which Athanasius barely discusses.

Athenagoras of Athens, a contemporary of Irenaeus, offers a striking contrast to the view witnessed by Ignatius. His two surviving works include some of the earliest in-depth defenses of eternal torment. In On the Resurrection of the Dead 19, he argues that the limitations of a mortal body prevent adequate punishment for grievous crimes, presenting death as an obstacle to justice and necessitating resurrection to incorruptible bodies. This reasoning extends beyond Athanasius’s view, which acknowledges death as an appropriate penalty for sin but deems it dishonoring to God as humanity’s creator. In contrast, Ignatius and Irenaeus present death as the natural result of rejecting God, with torment understood as passively allowed due to being proportional to specific sins.

While Athenagoras and others contribute to the diversity of early Christian thought, Justin Martyr, as Irenaeus’s teacher, occupies a unique position in this discussion. His influence on Irenaeus’s theological framework, combined with the contested interpretation of his writings, warrant separate attention.

Teacher of Irenaeus: Justin Martyr

Justin Martyr, one of Irenaeus’s key influences, presents a challenge to the claim that Irenaeus consistently taught conditional immortality. Justin made statements interpreted by many as affirming eternal torment, while others appear to support conditional immortality. Rather than attempting to resolve debates about Justin’s personal beliefs, this section examines his explicit statements and their implications for those who heard and passed on his teachings.

In First Apology 8, Justin asserts that “the wicked [will exist] in the same bodies united again to their spirits, which are now to undergo everlasting punishment; and not only, as Plato said, for a period of a thousand years.” This statement is often cited as supporting eternal torment, particularly by his student Tatian, though it was also plausibly appropriated by the conditionalist Arnobius of Sicca, who argued (Against the Heathen 2.14) that eternal capital punishment by prolonged torments inflicts a greater and more decisive penalty than Plato’s concept of cycles of temporary punishment and eventual reconciliation with the Divine.

A similar idea appears in a more explicitly Jewish context in Dialogue with Trypho 103, where Justin writes: “We know from Isaiah that the members of those who have transgressed shall be consumed by the worm and unquenchable fire, remaining immortal.” Again, his student Tatian used this to affirm eternal torment.

Conversely, in Dialogue with Trypho 6, Justin quotes the Christian philosopher who converted him, who articulates a view that aligns more closely with Irenaeus’s expression of anthropology and theology:

Now, that the soul lives, no one would deny. But if it lives, it lives not as being life, but as the partaker of life; but that which partakes of anything, is different from that of which it does partake. Now the soul partakes of life, since God wills it to live. Thus, then, it will not even partake [of life] when God does not will it to live. For to live is not its attribute, as it is God’s; but as a man does not live always, and the soul is not for ever conjoined with the body, since, whenever this harmony must be broken up, the soul leaves the body, and the man exists no longer; even so, whenever the soul must cease to exist, the spirit of life is removed from it, and there is no more soul, but it goes back to the place from whence it was taken.

This passage makes pivotal claims suggesting that some souls have an end to life, using unconditional words like “when.” This sheds light on the earlier statement from Dialogue with Trypho 5 (and see also the similar logic of First Apology 18), where the Christian philosopher declares:

‘But I do not say, indeed, that all souls die; for that were truly a piece of good fortune to the evil. What then? The souls of the pious remain in a better place, while those of the unjust and wicked are in a worse, waiting for the time of judgment. Thus some which have appeared worthy of God never die; but others are punished so long as God wills them to exist and to be punished.’

This passage expands on the concept of sensation in the intermediate state, introducing the idea that the ones worthy of God never die, while the “others” are punished for a duration determined by God (and, by contrast to the righteous who “never die,” would then die “when” God willed it). This framework challenges the wicked’s assumption that all souls die, undermining their justification for immoral behavior, a theme found in Jewish texts such as the Wisdom of Solomon1See especially the beliefs of the wicked that there is no life apart from the life of the flesh in Wisdom 2:1-5, leading to prosperity and riotous living at the expense of the weak in Wisdom 2:6-11. This is judged and they are sentenced in Wisdom 3:10 to exactly what their reasoning was (i.e. there will be no life for them), as opposed to the righteous who receive immortality that the reasoning of the wicked rejected. See also Wisdom 5, where the wicked lament the absolutely zero effect of their entire lives, leaving nothing..

Some note was already taken of Tatian, another student of Justin, credited with evangelizing Syria and translating the gospels into their language. Tatian, in his Address To the Greeks 8, makes a statement that appears to harmonize both kinds of claims that Justin made: “The soul is not in itself immortal, O Greeks, but mortal. Yet it is possible for it not to die. If, indeed, it knows not the truth, it dies, and is dissolved with the body, but rises again at last at the end of the world with the body, receiving death by punishment in immortality. But, again, if it [the soul] acquires the knowledge of God, it dies not…” This expresses both ideas that Justin’s teachings might convey: that the soul is not inherently immortal and may die, and that eternal torment is a reality, with body immortal and death somehow certain. His peculiar phrasing suggests that Tatian attempts to reconcile the conditionalist notion of personal sureness to die as Justin expressed it with the concept of eternal torment, resulting in a hybrid expression of the view of eternal torment found nowhere else in early Christian writings. Tatian’s synthesis strongly implies that Justin taught both concepts to his students but left them unresolved, without offering a clear harmonization. In response, Tatian appears to have devised his own interpretation to unify these ideas.

Despite Irenaeus’s close alignment with Justin’s quotations from his teacher, Irenaeus does not appear to reference or adopt Justin’s arguments that suggest eternal torment. For example, he does not attribute punishment to immortalized limbs, stating in Against Heresies 5.12.2 that unless the Spirit replaces the temporal breath, the body cannot remain alive. Nor does he engage in comparisons with Plato’s idea of a thousand years of pain before reincarnation, though he critiques reincarnationist arguments associated with Plato.

There is no evidence of a Christian source from which Justin might have derived his statements that Tatian takes to teach eternal torment. One possible parallel is a post-Temple-destruction Jewish tradition related to the surviving copies of the Targum Jeremiah, though the version extant today replaces Isaiah 66:24’s undying worm with “their breaths shall not die,” and concludes with the fiery punishment of the wicked ceasing when “the righteous say concerning them, ‘we have seen enough;’” perhaps Justin and Trypho witness here to a different version of the Targumic tradition where those corpses or limbs are kept undying in the worm and fire, an idea fitting to Justin’s demonstrated knowledge of variant texts together with his audience’s expertise.

Unlike Tatian, Irenaeus’s evident respect for Justin did not extend to adopting these aspects of his thought regarding eternal torment. There is no evidence that Irenaeus incorporated Justin’s statements interpreted by Tatian as supporting eternal torment, nor relied on any sources from which such ideas might have been derived. Instead, Irenaeus consistently articulated a theology of eternal punishment that aligns with what Justin himself claimed to have been taught, as well as with the views reflected in the writings of earlier Christian thinkers. As Justin remained a layman rather than a church father, Irenaeus could be interpreted to have prioritized an ecclesial tradition in which conditional immortality was (or at least had been) prevalent. This interpretation aligns with the patristic sources discussed in Chris Date’s articles and Rethinking Hell Live episodes, which highlight the early Christian emphasis on conditional immortality and the eventual loss of life for the wicked as foundational to their theology.

Modern Interactions

One of the most theologically developed views of hell in Christian tradition has come to be known as the “Augustinian” perspective. Joseph Ratzinger’s Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life offers an excellent study of this view, which shares certain elements with Irenaeus’s theology. Chief among these is the claim that the punishment of hell results from God allowing people to reject Him, rather than from God actively imposing pain. However, much like Athanasius, this view also asserts that God refuses to allow any of His image-bearers to be annihilated. Within this framework, the torments of hell are understood as both self-imposed rejection of the good God offers and the result of God’s sustaining act of love, which preserves existence even for those who reject Him.

A recent development toward a more Irenaean perspective can be found in the work of Catholic scholar Paul Griffiths,2See also Griffiths, P. J. (2007). Self-Annihilation Or Damnation? A Disputable Question in Christian Eschatology. Pro Ecclesia, 16(4), 416-444. https://doi.org/10.1177/106385120701600403, downloaded 1/19 from https://afkimel.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/griffiths-on-annihilation.pdf particularly in his book Decreation: The Last Things of All Creatures. As the title suggests, Griffiths proposes a form of conditional immortality, tuned to fit Catholic doctrinal requirements. Bruce McCuskey, a Jesuit scholar, provides a compelling review that compares Griffiths’s book with Ratzinger’s book. While McCuskey highlights notable thematic parallels between Griffiths’s ideas and Irenaeus’s theology, his most striking observation lies in his analysis of the metaphors used to describe divine-human interaction. McCuskey writes:

For Ratzinger, the givenness of human existence is captured primarily by oral and aural metaphors. The dialogical call anchors his account. For Griffiths, the imagery is tactile: ‘caress’ is the crucial term. The difference lies ultimately in the weight each set of images and metaphors gives to human and divine agency. One can call to another dialogically without that person exercising any intentional response. Hence, God can continually call us into being even if we ourselves never respond. A successful caress, however, must be accepted and ultimately returned. If performed without the willed acceptance of the one being caressed, a caress fails, as does one that does not evoke a response, even if simply that of acceptance.

While Irenaeus does not employ the metaphors of “call” or “caress” directly, his theology resonates with Griffiths’s tactile imagery in its emphasis on active participative engagement between humanity and God. For Irenaeus, creation is a divine call to existence, but salvation is a relational and transformative process of communion that begins with God’s action but grows into active union with God. This concept is vividly expressed in Against Heresies 5.1.1, where Irenaeus writes of Christ:

[He is] imparting indeed God to men by means of the Spirit, and, on the other hand, attaching man to God by His own incarnation, and bestowing upon us at His coming immortality durably and truly, by means of communion with God.

Likewise he writes of Christ’s work of theosis in Against Heresies 3.20.2:

… that He might call man forth into His own likeness, assigning him as [His own] imitator to God, and imposing on him His Father’s law, in order that he may see God, and granting him power to receive the Father; […] that He might accustom man to receive God, and God to dwell in man.

These passages, among others, highlight Irenaeus’s emphasis on salvation as a process of growing in closeness to God, culminating in union with Him and participation in His life. This vision of salvation as relational and transformative echoes through Griffiths’s work, which revives the ancient Christian understanding of divine sustenance as essential to human flourishing — a theme foundational to Irenaeus’s theology.

Closing: Reading Irenaeus in Light of Life and Death

Let us conclude by hearing Irenaeus speak for himself, placing his thought at the forefront. In Against Heresies 3.20.2, he offers a profound passage that encapsulates many of the central themes explored here, with added emphasis to highlight its key ideas. This passage reveals how deeply these concepts are woven into the Christian message as Irenaeus understood and proclaimed it. It also underscores the theological consistency of his argument when viewed through the lens of his broader teachings on the end of sin and sinners as opposed to righteousness, love, and union with God.

This, therefore, was the [object of the] long-suffering of God, that man, passing through all things, and acquiring the knowledge of moral discipline, then attaining to the resurrection from the dead, and learning by experience what is the source of his deliverance, may always live in a state of gratitude to the Lord, having obtained from Him the gift of incorruptibility, that he might love Him the more; for “he to whom more is forgiven, loveth more:” and that he may know himself, how mortal and weak he is; while he also understands respecting God, that He is immortal and powerful to such a degree as to confer immortality upon what is mortal, and eternity upon what is temporal; and may understand also the other attributes of God displayed towards himself, by means of which being instructed he may think of God in accordance with the divine greatness. For the glory of man [is] God, but [His] works [are the glory] of God; and the receptacle of all His wisdom and power [is] man. Just as the physician is proved by his patients, so is God also revealed through men. And therefore Paul declares, “For God hath concluded all in unbelief, that He may have mercy upon all;” not saying this in reference to spiritual Aeons3Aeons, according to Gnosticism, are semi-divine beings., but to man, who had been disobedient to God, and being cast off from immortality, then obtained mercy, receiving through the Son of God that adoption which is [accomplished] by Himself. For he who holds, without pride and boasting, the true glory (opinion) regarding created things and the Creator, who is the Almighty God of all, and who has granted existence to all; [such an one,] continuing in His love and subjection, and giving of thanks, shall also receive from Him the greater glory of promotion, looking forward to the time when he shall become like Him who died for him, for He, too, “was made in the likeness of sinful flesh,” to condemn sin, and to cast it, as now a condemned thing, away beyond the flesh, but that He might call man forth into His own likeness, assigning him as [His own] imitator to God, and imposing on him His Father’s law, in order that he may see God, and granting him power to receive the Father; [being] the Word of God who dwelt in man, and became the Son of man, that He might accustom man to receive God, and God to dwell in man, according to the good pleasure of the Father.

 

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Note: This article is part of a series. Part 1 established Irenaeus’s systematic theology as supportive of Conditional Immortality. Part 2 addressed modern scholars and critics of this view and their interpretations of Irenaeus. Part 3 above explores how Irenaeus fits into the theological life of the church in its historical unfolding.

Irenaeus and Continuance (Part 3): Enduring Questions
View this article in PDF

 

References
1 See especially the beliefs of the wicked that there is no life apart from the life of the flesh in Wisdom 2:1-5, leading to prosperity and riotous living at the expense of the weak in Wisdom 2:6-11. This is judged and they are sentenced in Wisdom 3:10 to exactly what their reasoning was (i.e. there will be no life for them), as opposed to the righteous who receive immortality that the reasoning of the wicked rejected. See also Wisdom 5, where the wicked lament the absolutely zero effect of their entire lives, leaving nothing.
2 See also Griffiths, P. J. (2007). Self-Annihilation Or Damnation? A Disputable Question in Christian Eschatology. Pro Ecclesia, 16(4), 416-444. https://doi.org/10.1177/106385120701600403, downloaded 1/19 from https://afkimel.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/griffiths-on-annihilation.pdf
3 Aeons, according to Gnosticism, are semi-divine beings.

Irenaeus and Continuance (Part 2): In the Spirit of Discussion

Note: This article is part of a series. Part 1 established Irenaeus’s systematic theology as supportive of Conditional Immortality. Part 2 below addresses modern scholars and critics of this view and their interpretations of Irenaeus. Part 3 will explore how Irenaeus fits into the theological life of the church in its historical unfolding. You can also view the entire article in PDF here.

 

The previous sections established Irenaeus’s theology as supporting conditional immortality, presenting it not as an isolated concept but as a consistent framework within his systematic theology. This part addresses modern interpretations of Irenaeus, focusing on how contemporary scholars engage with his writings and their implications for the doctrine of final punishment.

Of particular interest are critiques of Chris Date’s interpretation of Against Heresies. These critiques propose alternative readings that align Irenaeus with the traditional doctrine of eternal torment. By examining these arguments and the texts they reference, this section seeks to clarify Irenaeus’s actual position and its theological coherence.

Direct Engagement: Shepherd

One such critique comes from Jerry Shepherd, who challenges Date’s interpretation of Against Heresies 2.34.3. Shepherd contends that Irenaeus contrasts immortality as life in God’s presence with a “merely sensate existence” for the unsaved in eternal punishment, a teaching he attributes to Justin Martyr’s influence. This raises two key questions: Does Irenaeus’s text support Shepherd’s interpretation? And how does Irenaeus’s theology compare with the views of Justin Martyr and others who explicitly affirmed eternal torment?

This section focuses on the first question by examining the cited text, leaving the comparison with Justin Martyr and his students to the next section. Shepherd’s claim appears untenable when assessed against Against Heresies 2.34.3, which makes no reference to closeness with God or positive experiences in His presence. Instead, it addresses the duration of existence. To ensure a thorough analysis, consider Irenaeus’s exact language (emphasis added):

For as the heaven which is above us, the firmament, the sun, the moon, the rest of the stars, and all their grandeur, although they had no previous existence, were called into being, and continue throughout a long course of time according to the will of God, so also any one who thinks thus respecting souls and spirits, and, in fact, respecting all created things, will not by any means go far astray, inasmuch as all things that have been made had a beginning when they were formed, but endure as long as God wills that they should have an existence and continuance.

At the outset, Irenaeus compares “souls and spirits” to inanimate objects such as “the sun, the moon, and the rest of the stars.” He asserts that both have a beginning and endure only “as long as God wills that they should have an existence and continuance.” This comparison makes no mention of divine favor or relational closeness with God. Instead, it establishes a foundational point: the sheer fact of existence, and any extension of it in time, is contingent upon God’s will.

This reasoning aligns with the broader context of Against Heresies (see the discussion of Against Heresies 2.33.5 in the previous section) where Irenaeus argues that the number of people present at the judgment will equal the total number begotten throughout human history. Souls, like the moon and stars, continue in existence, in their case because God wills their presence for the purpose of being gathered together at the final judgment. Thus, the continuance being described relates solely to existence, not to life in the sense of divine blessing or communion with God.

Irenaeus further elaborates in Against Heresies 2.34.4:

When God therefore bestows life and perpetual duration, it comes to pass that even souls which did not previously exist should henceforth endure [for ever], since God has both willed that they should exist, and should continue in existence.

So Irenaeus explicitly qualifies this claim: continued existence forever applies only to souls on whom God has conferred both life and perpetual duration. Souls granted life but not perpetual duration are excluded from this category; and indeed the translator has inserted the bracketed phrase “[for ever]” here exclusively because of the context affirming that condition. Furthermore, in the preceding paragraph, Irenaeus says that the ungrateful person does not receive continuance to length of days forever, providing a concrete example of souls with life but not perpetual duration.

Shepherd does not directly present additional arguments, but he cites three passages that he believes contradict the conditionalist interpretation of Irenaeus. All these passages argue that the soul is not mortal; for the sake of brevity, this response will address one representative example. In Against Heresies 5.7.1, Irenaeus states:

Now the breath of life is an incorporeal thing. And certainly they cannot maintain that the very breath of life is mortal. Therefore David says, “My soul also shall live to Him,” just as if its substance were immortal. Neither, on the other hand, can they say that the spirit is the mortal body. What therefore is there left to which we may apply the term “mortal body,” unless it be the thing that was moulded, that is, the flesh, of which it is also said that God will vivify it? For this it is which dies and is decomposed, but not the soul or the spirit. For to die is to lose vital power, and to become henceforth breathless, inanimate, and devoid of motion, and to melt away into those [component parts] from which also it derived the commencement of [its] substance. But this event happens neither to the soul, for it is the breath of life; nor to the spirit, for the spirit is simple and not composite, so that it cannot be decomposed, and is itself the life of those who receive it.

This passage explicitly denies the mortality of the soul, a stance that contrasts with modern conditionalist emphases. However, the difference arises largely from the nuanced way early Christians spoke about mortality. For instance, Theophilus of Antioch describes Adam as “neither … immortal nor yet mortal … but capable of both,”1Theophilus of Antioch, To Autolycus 2.27 reflecting a view in which “mortal” means strictly the inevitability of death, not mere possibility. Similarly, Irenaeus’s affirmation that the soul survives bodily death to experience the intermediate state suggests that for the saved, the soul will never die, and for the unsaved it will not die until the Judgment (Against Heresies 2.34.1). By this nuanced definition, the soul is not “mortal” because it is not certain to die, though neither is it immortal.

Even without this nuance, Irenaeus’s statement here does not contradict his earlier claim that “the soul herself is not life, but partakes in that life bestowed upon her” (Against Heresies 2.34.4). Instead, both reflect his broader effort to refute Gnostic claims and defend the immortality of the flesh granted by God. In Irenaeus’s anthropology, the body is corruptible, while the soul is incorruptible but still dependent on something else for its life. The soul’s participation in eternal life is not by transformation, as the body requires, but by union with the Holy Spirit and the immortal body. Thus, while the soul does not necessarily die, Irenaeus denies that every soul will live forever.

Irenaeus’s definition of “to die” in this passage centers on the loss of vital power, while the subsequent descriptions — becoming breathless, inanimate, and decomposing — he discusses in light of his topic, the body. His statement that the body “dies and is decomposed” clarifies this distinction; decomposition follows death but is not an intrinsic part of dying. Unlike the body, the soul and spirit can not decompose, but the soul can become inanimate due to its life being temporal, and both soul and spirit can be denied continuance in existence. However, when the soul loses its life, when the temporal breath of life runs out of time, it also loses its ability to sustain personal identity and human personhood. This aligns with Irenaeus’s broader teaching that all created things including soul and spirit depend on God’s will for continuance.

Direct Engagement: Alvarado

George Alvarado has written a series of responses to Rethinking Hell, two of which engage directly with Chris Date’s article on Irenaeus. In his first response, Alvarado alleges that Date and Rethinking Hell “conveniently only quote (out of context) parts of” Irenaeus’s chapter while ignoring other relevant material. His proposed solution is to paste the entire chapter into his article, apparently to provide the fuller context. Alvarado claims that in the quoted section, “Irenaeus is simply stating that he believes that the soul can go on forever, and that it does not have to die with the body.”

Irenaeus and his opponents both accept the soul’s survival after bodily death as an axiom, using it as a foundation for their respective arguments. Therefore, the primary focus of the passage does not lie in the claim “that it does not die with the body.” And conditionalists agree that the soul can live on forever (that is, as a possibility, specifically limited to the saved), so neither is that a response. Alvarado’s analysis notably omits the more critical statement from a later paragraph of the same chapter, quoted by Date, where Irenaeus states “concerning the salvation of man” that the grateful will be given life forever, while the ungrateful will be deprived of continuance. It should require no further explanation that a statement made “concerning the salvation of man” is directly relevant to the final fate of humanity. Moreover, the assertion that the ungrateful are deprived of continuance has nothing to do with the soul’s survival after bodily death. When all of those are put together, it follows that Irenaeus’s disagreement with the reincarnationists is that the salvation of man does not imply cycles of rebirth until the soul reaches eternity, but rather implies God giving man eternity through immortality of the body and continued existence of the soul forever — or not.

On the webpage hosting Alvarado’s essay (linked above), a commenter raises this point with a detailed argument. Alvarado dismisses the critique by directing the commenter to a later essay that neither quotes Date nor addresses Irenaeus’s statement about the ungrateful being deprived of continuance. Instead, this essay simply asserts, after referencing other passages, “What else are we to assert? That the body and soul will experience an eternal punishment that is not annihilation!” This approach is fundamentally circular, as it assumes the conclusion — that eternal punishment excludes annihilation — without engaging with the specific passage that challenges this interpretation. Notably, Date’s article is titled “Deprived of Continuance,” underscoring the importance of this phrase to his interpretation of Irenaeus. Given that Alvarado’s primary critique of Date hinges on the claim that “Chris only quotes pieces of the Irenaeus’ work” [sic], it is a material omission that Alvarado fails to address the passage Date highlights as central to his argument.

In his second article addressing Chris Date’s interpretation of Irenaeus, George Alvarado critiques Date’s claims by closely analyzing Irenaeus’s language in Against Heresies 4.39–40. Alvarado draws particular attention to Irenaeus describing final punishment as a place, citing the following passage:

Submission to God is eternal rest, so that they who shun the light have a place worthy of their flight; and those who fly from eternal rest, have a habitation in accordance with their fleeing.

Alvarado highlights the terminology of “place” and “habitation,” and further underscores words such as “inhabiting” and “abode” in another quote from the same passage:

So those who fly from the eternal light of God, which contains in itself all good things, are themselves the cause to themselves of their inhabiting eternal darkness, destitute of all good things, having become to themselves the cause of [their consignment to] an abode of that nature.

In these chapters, Irenaeus explicitly connects this place to the “furnace of fire” (referencing the final judgment described in Matthew 13) and the “outer darkness,” making it clear that he is addressing the final judgment rather than a temporary intermediate state. Alvarado’s argument is thus well rooted in the observation that a place described as eternal, in which individuals inhabit, dwell, and abide, implies the co-eternity of its inhabitants with that place. This challenge is a reasonable one, and its premises are true.

But an equally reasonable counterclaim emerges: the passage is deeply metaphorical, employing imagery such as “light” to represent the presence of God’s goodness and “darkness” to signify its absence. The terms “habitation” and “abode” align with this metaphorical framework, symbolizing the final state caused by separation from God, that is, destitution of all good things. Crucially, Irenaeus elsewhere identifies continuance in life and existence as among the good things bestowed by God, implying that the loss of all good things includes the loss of life itself.

To support the claim that this language is metaphorical, it is necessary to examine the immediate context. In Against Heresies 4.38.1, Irenaeus begins an extended metaphor comparing humanity to infants who cannot yet consume strong food or endure bright light. This metaphor underscores the transformative role of partaking in God’s likeness to attain immortality. He writes:

[the Lord] came to us, not as He might have come, but as we were capable of beholding Him. He might easily have come to us in His immortal glory, but in that case we could never have endured the greatness of the glory; and therefore it was that He, who was the perfect bread of the Father, offered Himself to us as milk, [because we were] as infants. He did this when He appeared as a man, that we, being nourished, as it were, from the breast of His flesh, and having, by such a course of milk nourishment, become accustomed to eat and drink the Word of God, may be able also to contain in ourselves the Bread of immortality, which is the Spirit of the Father.

Here, the “bread of immortality” is clearly identified as the Holy Spirit, not literal bread or even the Eucharist, reinforcing the metaphorical framework. In the next paragraph, which concludes 4.38, Irenaeus transitions to a more direct teaching:

For these, [the dumb animals], bring no charge against God for not having made them men; but each one, just as he has been created, gives thanks that he has been created. For we cast blame upon Him, because we have not been made gods from the beginning, but at first merely men, then at length gods; although God has adopted this course out of His pure benevolence, that no one may impute to Him invidiousness or grudgingness. He declares, ‘I have said, Ye are gods; and ye are all sons of the Highest.’ But since we could not sustain the power of divinity, He adds, ‘But ye shall die like men.’”

To ensure there is no misunderstanding, Irenaeus explains this progression with straightforward seriousness:

For it was necessary, at first, that nature should be exhibited; then, after that, that what was mortal should be conquered and swallowed up by immortality, and the corruptible by incorruptibility, and that man should be made after the image and likeness of God, having received the knowledge of good and evil.

This chapter consistently conveys the same message found throughout Irenaeus’s writings: not a description of two separate places for humanity, nor a fate of mere separation plus survival, but rather two distinct outcomes: in one, those who submit to God are drawn into His likeness and attain immortality. In the other, those who rebel against God, unable to bear His sight, cannot even see His likeness (cf. 1 John 3:2; Colossians 3:3–4). Lacking the capacity to partake in God’s eternal nature, they remain temporal and eventually cease to live.

Irenaeus reinforces this message in Against Heresies 4.39.4, where he explains:

[God] prepared fit habitations for both, kindly conferring that light which they desire on those who seek after the light of incorruption, and resort to it; but for the despisers and mockers who avoid and turn themselves away from this light, and who do, as it were, blind themselves, He has prepared darkness suitable to persons who oppose the light…

Here, Irenaeus explicitly identifies the metaphorical “light” as “the light of incorruption,” granted to those who seek it. By contrast, the “darkness” prepared for those whose turning from God’s gentle revelation in the flesh of Jesus is (in a simile, “as it were”) blinding themselves, must correspond to mortality, corruption, and death. Mortality and death, therefore, are the literal realities underlying the metaphorical “abode” described earlier.

This interpretation aligns with similar biblical imagery, such as the “eternal home” in Ecclesiastes 12:5. Furthermore, it encompasses all the consequences of rebellion against God, portraying the abode of darkness as a place not for life but for its absence — a permanent reminder of judgment, much like Hinnom in Jeremiah 31:40, which serves as an eternal memorial named “the valley of corpses and ashes.”

Turning to Against Heresies 4.28.2, Alvarado observes Irenaeus stating that the punishments revealed in the New Testament are “not only temporal, but rendered eternal.” In the same second article, Alvarado interprets this passage to conclude: “Irenaeus semantically links the ideas of punishment, eternity of the fire, the wrath of God, and the increased and enduring nature of the punishment as greater and more enduring than the kinds that were given to cities like Sodom and Gomorrah.”

In fact, the passage Alvarado references does not compare the eternal punishment to Sodom’s past punishment by fire from heaven. Rather his use in Against Heresies 4.28.1 is: “It shall be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the judgment than for that city which did not receive the word of His disciples.” Alvarado misreads this comparison, construing it as a contrast between Sodom’s temporal destruction and the rebels’ eternal punishment. But Irenaeus is comparing the relative severity of punishments experienced during the future day of judgment — a “day” being a finite event — with no mention of either eternal punishment or Sodom’s historical destruction.

Although Alvarado’s interpretation is thus disqualified, the question remains: What does Irenaeus mean by stating that the punishments are “not merely temporal but rendered eternal”? To answer this, a closer examination of the passage in Against Heresies 4.28.2 is necessary:

…we are directed not merely to abstain from evil actions, but even from evil thoughts, and from idle words, and empty talk, and scurrilous-language: thus also the punishment of those who do not believe the Word of God, and despise His advent, and are turned away backwards, is increased; being not merely temporal, but rendered also eternal. For to whomsoever the Lord shall say, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire,” these shall be damned2Keep in mind that “damned” has shifted in meaning; the underlying Greek and Latin still only mean to be condemned as in a court judgment, not to be tormented. The English usage, now largely archaic outside of religious contexts, carries vague implications of torment and is often employed idiomatically rather than theologically. for ever…

Having ruled out the possibility that the temporal punishment referenced here pertains to Sodom’s temporal destruction, it remains to determine what Irenaeus intended by comparing “those who despise His advent” with others who experienced lesser and temporal punishment. To find the answer, one must turn to the preceding chapter, Against Heresies 4.27, which contextualizes the contrast.

In Against Heresies 4.27.1, Irenaeus enumerates the past judgments of God against figures such as David and Solomon. He states: “the punishment [declared] in Scripture was sufficient for the ancients in regard to what they did without the Spirit’s guidance.” He concludes: “The Scripture has thus sufficiently reproved him, as the presbyter remarked, in order that no flesh may glory in the sight of the Lord.”

In Against Heresies 4.27.2, Irenaeus elaborates further:

And it is for our instruction that their actions have been committed to writing, that we might know, in the first place, that our God and theirs is one, and that sins do not please Him although committed by men of renown; and in the second place, that we should keep from wickedness. For if these men of old time, who preceded us in the gifts [bestowed upon them], and for whom the Son of God had not yet suffered, when they committed any sin and served fleshly lusts, were rendered objects of such disgrace, what shall the men of the present day suffer, who have despised the Lord’s coming, and become the slaves of their own lusts?

Here, Irenaeus contrasts two categories of sinners. The first includes David, Solomon, and other saints of old whose sins were punished lightly because they lived before the Spirit was given and before Christ’s advent. Their punishments were temporal: they were addressed directly by God, shamed in His presence, and their sins recorded in Scripture for posterity. Yet, Irenaeus sees their sins as overlooked, as evidenced by Irenaeus’s reference to Christ’s descent into Hades: “It was for this reason [the repentance and forgiveness of David and Solomon mentioned immediately previously], too, that the Lord descended into the regions beneath the earth, preaching His advent there also, and [declaring] the remission of sins received by those who believe in Him” (Against Heresies 4.27.2).

The second category comprises those who have encountered Christ, received the Spirit, and then turned away. For these individuals, Irenaeus argues, there will be no second chance. Their punishment is eternal because they have rejected the ultimate revelation of God and the gifts of the Spirit. Irenaeus underscores this by stating, “Christ shall not die again in behalf of those who now commit sin, for death shall no more have dominion over Him” (Against Heresies 4.27.2).

Irenaeus repeats the same teaching that the difference is the possibility of pardon in Demonstration of The Apostolic Teaching 56:

How much better that we had been burned with fire before the Son of God was born, than that, when He was born, we should not have believed on Him. Because for those who died before Christ appeared there is hope that in the judgment of the risen they may obtain salvation, even such as feared God and died in righteousness and had in them the Spirit of God, as the patriarchs and prophets and righteous men. But for those who after Christ’s appearing believed not on Him, there is a vengeance without pardon in the judgment.

This interpretation is further confirmed by Irenaeus’s comparison of the punishments of Old and New Testament apostates—those who canonically did not repent—and his conclusion that these punishments are equal. For Irenaeus, this equivalence demonstrates the continuity of divine justice across the Testaments and refutes the Gnostic claim of a dichotomy between the Old Testament God and the Father of Jesus. In Against Heresies 4.27.4, he provides a list of equal punishments:

As then the unrighteous, the idolaters, and fornicators perished, so also is it now: … And just as then, those who led vicious lives, and put other people astray, were condemned and cast out, so also even now the offending eye is plucked out, and the foot and the hand, lest the rest of the body perish in like manner.

Irenaeus connects these judgments directly to New Testament rebels, observing that the justice meted out in both Testaments is consistent. He extends this parallel in Against Heresies 4.24.2, explicitly linking the punishment of heresy and rebellion:

And the heretics, indeed, who bring strange fire to the altar of God—namely, strange doctrines—shall be burned up by the fire from heaven, as were Nadab and Abiud. But such as rise up in opposition to the truth, and exhort others against the Church of God, remain among those under the world, being swallowed up by an earthquake, even as those who were with Chore [Korah], Dathan, and Abiron. But those who cleave asunder, and separate the unity of the Church, receive from God the same punishment as Jeroboam did.

These examples—from Nadab and Abihu to Korah, Dathan, and Jeroboam—all culminate in death as the penalty for rebellion. Even in cases where the punishment seems less explicit, such as Numbers 16:33, where the earth swallows Korah’s rebellion and they “descend to Sheol alive,” the text confirms this as a penalty of death: “they perished from among the assembly.” This point is reiterated when Numbers 16:38 refers to the entire rebellion’s outcome as occurring “at the cost of their lives,” and the punishment of Jeroboam is summarized in 1 Kings 14:10 and 15:29 as the total destruction of his household. Irenaeus applies this equivalence directly to New Testament rebels, asserting that their punishment remains the same. This equality holds even though the old rebels “only” died: therefore it is not dying that makes a punishment temporal, but rather it is being forgiven.

By making this argument, Irenaeus addresses two key Gnostic claims. First, he refutes the notion of two separate deities — one harsher, the other kinder — by demonstrating that the same God enacts the same judgments across both Testaments. Second, he establishes that the punishments of New Testament rebels are actually greater than those of Old Testament figures such as David and Solomon, not because the Old Testament figures only died, but rather because they were forgiven after their punishment. Together, these points dismantle the Gnostic claim that the Old Testament God is less kind than the Father of Jesus.

Moreover, Irenaeus’s argument relies on the principle that the punishment for unrepentant sin is consistent between the covenants. This is exemplified in Against Heresies 4.20.8, where he states: “Moses declared that God was indeed a consuming fire to the people that transgressed the law, and threatened that God would bring upon them a day of fire.” This argument for equality in divine justice cannot be reconciled with Alvarado’s interpretation, which allows only inequality; but it fits conditional immortality perfectly. In a very real sense, the divine sentence of death read out at the Day of Judgment remands the whole person to the death they already died, while the divine verdict that declares the penitent sinner “righteous” formally repeals the previous event of death.

*     *     *     *     *

Note: This article is part of a series. Part 1 established Irenaeus’s systematic theology as supportive of Conditional Immortality. Part 2 above addressed modern scholars and critics of this view and their interpretations of Irenaeus. Part 3 will explore how Irenaeus fits into the theological life of the church in its historical unfolding.

Irenaeus and Continuance (Part 2): In the Spirit of Discussion
View this article in PDF

 

References
1 Theophilus of Antioch, To Autolycus 2.27
2 Keep in mind that “damned” has shifted in meaning; the underlying Greek and Latin still only mean to be condemned as in a court judgment, not to be tormented. The English usage, now largely archaic outside of religious contexts, carries vague implications of torment and is often employed idiomatically rather than theologically.

Irenaeus and Continuance (Part 1): To Be Continued (Or Not?)

Note: This article is part of a series. Part 1 below establishes Irenaeus’s systematic theology as supportive of Conditional Immortality. Part 2 addresses modern scholars and critics of this view and their interpretations of Irenaeus. Part 3 explores how Irenaeus fits into the theological life of the church in its historical unfolding. You can also view the entire article in PDF here.

 

Abstract

Conditional immortality, also known as annihilationism, asserts that salvation involves being granted immortality, while damnation entails the cessation of life and personal existence at the final judgment. Many adherents argue that the Bible supports this view but add that its legitimacy also depends on whether it was taught by the earliest Christian theologians, ensuring it reflects intentional apostolic doctrine rather than later interpretive assumptions. Historically, the third to fourth century Christian writer Arnobius of Sicca is often identified as an early proponent of conditional immortality, lending credence to its acceptance as a tolerated minority view in early Christianity. Increasingly, however, modern defenders argue that the second-century church father St. Irenaeus of Lyons also supported this perspective, citing passages from his Against Heresies as evidence.

This article systematically examines Irenaeus’s teachings on human nature, the soul, and final punishment, engaging with modern conditionalist interpretations and opposing arguments for eternal torment. Building upon Chris Date’s prior work, which analyzed a single chapter of Against Heresies, this study evaluates Irenaeus’s entire extant corpus, including fragments and related writings by his contemporaries. By situating Irenaeus’s theology within its historical and theological context, this article argues that conditional immortality was central to his understanding of resurrection and final judgment.

Continue reading “Irenaeus and Continuance (Part 1): To Be Continued (Or Not?)”

Edward Fudge, Robert Peterson, and the Ignoratio Elenchi Fallacy

In 2000 a book was published in which Edward Fudge and Robert Peterson conducted a debate over the question of whether the Bible supports CI (conditional immortality) or ECT (eternal conscious torment).1Edward William Fudge and Robert A. Peterson, Two Views of Hell: A Biblical & Theological Dialogue, Kindle ed., (InterVarsity Press: 2000). The image at the top of this article is from the Kindle edition of the book I own. I am not intending to review the entire exchange between Peterson and Fudge. Rather, I will focus on three responses Peterson made to the following statement by Fudge.

The word punishment tells us that the destiny of the lost issues from a judicial sentence. They are sent away to this fate. The word punishment does not tell us the nature of the penalty, however, or of what it actually consists. In our own criminal justice system punishment has a wide variety of meanings. It might mean a monetary fine or perhaps a brief time in jail or even a life sentence to prison. The worst punishment of all, however, is capital punishment—although the actual act of execution lasts only a few minutes at most. We do not measure capital punishment by the time required to carry it out but in terms of its lasting consequences. We consider it the greatest punishment of all because it forever deprives its victims of the remainder of their anticipated lives.

Saint Augustine, whose endorsement of the traditional view of conscious, unending torment practically guaranteed its status as orthodox doctrine, had to admit that this is true of capital punishment. “Where a very serious crime is punished by death and the execution of the sentence takes only a minute, no laws consider that minute as the measure of the punishment but rather the fact that the criminal is forever removed from the community of the living.” In this light it will not surprise us to learn that the word translated “punishment” in Matthew 25 originally meant “to cut short.” By the time of Jesus it also meant “to prune” or “to cut down.” The Old Testament uses this word at times to describe punishment by death (1 Sam 25:31; Ezek 21:15).

This punishment is called “eternal” for two reasons. First, it is the punishment of the age to come, not a punishment meted out by either man or God in this present life. Second and more importantly, it is called “eternal” because it will last forever, as the apostle Paul later specifically details. When Jesus comes at the end of the world, Paul explains, he will punish the wicked with “everlasting destruction” (2 Thess 1:9). Once destroyed, they will be gone forever. Jesus mentions in Matthew 25 the fate of the wicked in the most general of terms (eternal punishment), but Paul tells us its specific nature (everlasting destruction). Even Jonathan Edwards, whose name is best known today for his vivid preaching about the torments of hell, concedes that irreversible extinction would properly be called “eternal punishment.”2Edward Fudge, ‘The Case for conditionalism’, in Two Views of Hell: A Biblical & Theological Dialogue, Kindle ed., (InterVarsity Press: 2000), Kindle loc., 666-685.

The main point Fudge is making here is the word ‘punishment’ is ambiguous: ‘The word punishment does not tell us the nature of the penalty, however, or of what it actually consists.’ The idea is, one cannot simply assume that the mere use of the word ‘punishment’ (κόλασις, kolasis) necessarily denotes the notion of experienced punishment even where that punishment is said to be eternal and so is everlasting. On at least three occasions during his response to this section of Fudge’s argument, Peterson went on tangents that do not at all address the main point of his interlocutor.

First, Peterson takes aim at Fudge’s brief discussion on how capital punishment is perceived in legal contexts.

He adds faulty logic to faulty linguistics when he draws a parallel from the criminal justice system to eternal destinies. He correctly points out that capital punishment is a worse punishment than life in prison. But he errs when he infers that because capital punishment is worse than life imprisonment so also annihilation is a worse punishment than eternal conscious torment (p. 45). This is absurd. I would rather spend life in prison than be executed. But who would choose everlasting torment over extinction of being? Annihilation means the end of suffering, not the worst possible punishment as Fudge insists.3Robert A. Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, in Two Views of Hell: A Biblical & Theological Dialogue, Kindle ed., (InterVarsity Press: 2000), Kindle loc., 1581-1586.

Fudge did not mention his personal view regarding which punishment would feel worse to him personally. He was also not attempting to argue that eternal death or annihilation is a worse punishment than everlasting torment. Rather, Fudge’s contention was that the severity of a punishment is measured in terms of its lasting consequences. Peterson’s response misses this entirely. Instead, he moves to the question of whether everlasting torment is a worse punishment than extinction of being. He asks whether anyone would choose everlasting torment over extinction and then asserts that annihilation is the end of suffering so cannot be the worst possible punishment. There are ways in which one can respond to Peterson, such as pointing out Augustine’s comment that he knew of people who would choose eternal life in torment over extinction.4‘And truly the very fact of existing is by some natural spell so pleasant, that even the wretched are, for no other reason, unwilling to perish; and, when they feel that they are wretched, wish not that they themselves be annihilated, but that their misery be so. Take even those who, both in their own esteem, and in point of fact, are utterly wretched, and who are reckoned so, not only by wise men on account of their folly, but by those who count themselves blessed, and who think them wretched because they are poor and destitute—if any one should give these men an immortality, in which their misery should be deathless, and should offer the alternative, that if they shrank from existing eternally in the same misery they might be annihilated, and exist nowhere at all, nor in any condition, on the instant they would joyfully, nay exultantly, make election to exist always, even in such a condition, rather than not exist at all. The well-known feeling of such men witnesses to this. For when we see that they fear to die, and will rather live in such misfortune than end it by death, is it not obvious enough how nature shrinks from annihilation? And, accordingly, when they know that they must die, they seek, as a great boon, that this mercy be shown them, that they may a little longer live in the same misery, and delay to end it by death. And so they indubitably prove with what glad alacrity they would accept immortality, even though it secured to them endless destruction.’ This statement is from chapter 11 of Augustine’s City of God. It can be found here. However, my purpose here is to draw attention to how Peterson’s response fails to interact with Fudge’s argument at all. Regardless of what kind of punishment people might choose or the fact that extinction would end a person’s suffering, it is still true that permanent death and extinction has eternal consequences. It is still true that the severity of a punishment is measured by its lasting consequences and not the time taken to execute it. As such, Peterson’s lack of engagement with Fudge’s main argument means he merely side-stepped it.

Peterson also takes aim at Fudge’s comment about the meaning of κόλασις (kolasis) as ‘to cut short’, ‘to prune’, or ‘to cut down’. The reader may be surprised that I agree with Peterson’s denial that κόλασις (kolasis) had these meanings. Having investigated the claim, I came to the same conclusion as Peterson. Fudge’s claim about the meaning of κόλασις (kolasis) has no evidence to support it. Notwithstanding this, if one notes that Fudge’s comment is an aside that adds nothing to his main argument, then Peterson’s efforts at debunking Fudge on this claim does nothing to show the main argument of the paragraph is also false. Worse still, Peterson speculates about why Fudge mentioned the definition of κόλασις (kolasis).

The implications of Fudge’s argument are obvious. Because punishment originally meant “to cut short,” “eternal punishment” in Matthew 25:46 means an eternal cutting short, that is, annihilation. Because the same word is used in the Old Testament to describe punishment by death, “eternal punishment” in Matthew 25:46 means an eternal death, that is, annihilation.5Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, Kindle loc., 1598-1602.

However, when read in context, it is clear that Fudge added the aside about the meaning of κόλασις (kolasis) because pruning or cutting are actions that take a moment yet can have enduring consequences. Peterson not only quibbles with an aside, but he also focuses on an argument that Fudge never had in mind – all while leaving the main argument unaddressed.

Finally, there is Peterson’s interaction with Fudge’s quote of Johnathan Edwards.

Jonathan Edwards on annihilation and eternal punishment. Fudge claims that Jonathan Edwards called annihilation eternal punishment. He writes, “Even Jonathan Edwards, whose name is best known today for his vivid preaching about the torments of hell, concedes that irreversible extinction would properly be called ‘eternal punishment’” (p. 46).

Anyone familiar with Jonathan Edwards’s views on hell knows that Fudge has made a mistake. I say this for two reasons. First, in his writings Edwards repeatedly affirms traditionalism and condemns annihilationism. Although I demonstrate this on pages 123-24, here I offer further evidence…..6Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, Kindle loc., 1408-1415.

Peterson goes on to discuss in more detail why Edwards affirmed traditionalism and rejected annihilationism. Along the way, Peterson mistakes Edward’s comment “So this scheme overthrows itself” as a comment on annihilationism.7Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, Kindle loc., 1430-1435. However, as Glenn Peoples points out, Peterson mistakenly read this as a comment on annihilationism when Edwards clearly had universalism in his sights.8The reader can read paragraphs 31 and 32 from Edwards’ work here to check how Peterson erred at this juncture. Fudge had already made it clear that Edwards was a traditionalist who ‘is best known today for his vivid preaching about the torments of hell’. His only point in citing Edwards was to show that even a traditionalist stalwart like Edwards could openly admit that a punishment of extinction fits the biblical language of ‘eternal punishment’. As such, Peterson’s response on this point is completely irrelevant.

When I first read Peterson’s response to Fudge in this book several years ago it appeared to me that he had his interlocutor’s measure. Peterson is so sure that Fudge erred that his certitude affected my perception of the strength of his rebuttal. On closer examination, it became clear to me that Peterson had not, in fact, interacted with Fudge’s main argument. To be sure, he had circled around it, firing arrows at peripheral issues. However, even as Peterson proved to be correct that Fudge had erred on the meaning of κόλασις (kolasis) he had only hit on an ancillary point made in that paragraph. Peterson had missed the main point, and this is why I eventually concluded he lost the debate to Fudge over what Matthew meant by ‘eternal punishment’. He erroneously continued to use the phrase ‘eternal punishment’ as if it could only be understood as meaning ‘everlasting punishing by torment’. This is just a small window into why conditionalists are generally unpersuaded by Peterson’s case against CI. Glenn Peoples has identified other fallacies utilized by Peterson in his interaction with Fudge’s argument.9Glenn has links to his original journal article, Peterson’s response to that article, and his rejoinder to Peterson, https://www.rightreason.org/articles/ I strongly encourage the reader to check out Glenn’s interaction with Peterson’s arguments, for he gives more reasons for why Peterson ultimately failed to rebut Fudge’s case for CI. This will show you why the Rethinking Hell team does not think Peterson’s case against CI is persuasive.

 

References
1 Edward William Fudge and Robert A. Peterson, Two Views of Hell: A Biblical & Theological Dialogue, Kindle ed., (InterVarsity Press: 2000). The image at the top of this article is from the Kindle edition of the book I own.
2 Edward Fudge, ‘The Case for conditionalism’, in Two Views of Hell: A Biblical & Theological Dialogue, Kindle ed., (InterVarsity Press: 2000), Kindle loc., 666-685.
3 Robert A. Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, in Two Views of Hell: A Biblical & Theological Dialogue, Kindle ed., (InterVarsity Press: 2000), Kindle loc., 1581-1586.
4 ‘And truly the very fact of existing is by some natural spell so pleasant, that even the wretched are, for no other reason, unwilling to perish; and, when they feel that they are wretched, wish not that they themselves be annihilated, but that their misery be so. Take even those who, both in their own esteem, and in point of fact, are utterly wretched, and who are reckoned so, not only by wise men on account of their folly, but by those who count themselves blessed, and who think them wretched because they are poor and destitute—if any one should give these men an immortality, in which their misery should be deathless, and should offer the alternative, that if they shrank from existing eternally in the same misery they might be annihilated, and exist nowhere at all, nor in any condition, on the instant they would joyfully, nay exultantly, make election to exist always, even in such a condition, rather than not exist at all. The well-known feeling of such men witnesses to this. For when we see that they fear to die, and will rather live in such misfortune than end it by death, is it not obvious enough how nature shrinks from annihilation? And, accordingly, when they know that they must die, they seek, as a great boon, that this mercy be shown them, that they may a little longer live in the same misery, and delay to end it by death. And so they indubitably prove with what glad alacrity they would accept immortality, even though it secured to them endless destruction.’ This statement is from chapter 11 of Augustine’s City of God. It can be found here.
5 Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, Kindle loc., 1598-1602.
6 Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, Kindle loc., 1408-1415.
7 Peterson, ‘A Traditionalist Response to Conditionalism’, Kindle loc., 1430-1435.
8 The reader can read paragraphs 31 and 32 from Edwards’ work here to check how Peterson erred at this juncture.
9 Glenn has links to his original journal article, Peterson’s response to that article, and his rejoinder to Peterson, https://www.rightreason.org/articles/

Psalm 37—A Song of Annihilation

1. Psalm 37 shouts annihilationism

It may be that no passage of Scripture declares annihilationism (the ultimate destruction of wicked unbelievers) with clearer language than Psalm 37. Does it surprise you to find such a teaching in the Old Testament? It shouldn’t. Doesn’t Isaiah 53 contain one of the clearest presentations of substitutionary atonement and Psalm 22 convey one of the most graphic and moving descriptions of the crucifixion? As the Old Testament authors were inspired to share God’s work in their lives and their world, sometimes truths were revealed which went far beyond their own horizons.

Psalm 37 is filled with words and phrases that describe the fate of the unrighteous. In this psalm we are told that “the future of the wicked will be destroyed,” and that they themselves will:

“be destroyed”

“be no more”

“not be there”

“perish”

“fade away like smoke”

“be destroyed”

“not be found”

“be eliminated”

These words do not sound like eternal torment. They certainly do not sound like universal reconciliation! But they do sound like annihilation. In fact, it’s hard to imagine any language which would more clearly portray the final fate of the unrighteous as one of permanent and complete destruction.

Continue reading “Psalm 37—A Song of Annihilation”

“Hath God said?” A Response to Al Mohler, Ligon Duncan, and T4G

“You just got a shout out from Al Mohler at T4G.” A friend posted the notice on my Facebook wall while I was at work, and as I could not immediately access the Together for the Gospel (T4G) live video feed, my mind raced until my next short break. What might Mohler have said? I had debated him three years earlier, and he had been kind and gracious, even telling me after the recording was over that he’d love to meet me if I ever find myself on the east coast. I listen to his podcast “The Briefing” almost daily, and share much of his very conservative and Calvinist worldview. I have a tremendous amount of respect for Mohler, and the thought that he might have mentioned me in a positive light excited me.

Sadly, I had been naive. Mohler hadn’t mentioned me specifically; he had mentioned our recent Rethinking Hell Conference in Dallas–Fort Worth. And his comments were not at all positive, but were instead derisive and even mocking. With his brief words, he had misrepresented the conference, the ministry, and the broader conditionalist movement. While the derision and contempt hurt, it was Mohler’s unfair mischaracterizations that frustrated me most. I believe that he should know better.

I tried to contact Mohler, asking if he would be willing to discuss his comments with me, but I have not yet heard back from him. So, in this article I shall respond to his comments and those of his co-panelist Ligon Duncan. If you like, you can hear them in this video before reading on:

Continue reading ““Hath God said?” A Response to Al Mohler, Ligon Duncan, and T4G”

Perspicuity or Ambiguity: Could the Bible Have Been Clearer on Hell?

Conditionalists often make bold claims. For example, we are known to say—with an even blend of sincerity and hyperbole—that our view appears on virtually every page of the Bible. We’re often quick to point out that serious defenders of the eternal torment view will only focus on three or four key verses. And we’ll claim that even these texts provide better support for conditionalism, upon closer examination (take Matt 25:46 for example, or 2 Thess 1:9).

Are our strong statements just a case of over-confidence? Some people think so. Advocates of eternal torment like Jerry Walls and Gregg Allisson were taken aback when encountering them (you can read Glenn People’s reply to Walls here!). In fact, we’ve been accused by critics of everything from ignorance to hubris! In a climate where it is polite to say that everybody’s perspective is valid, and everybody has their own set of verses, why are conditionalists so dogmatic? Why does Rethinking Hell make such strong statements when championing conditionalism, despite also being strong promoters of dialogue?

Part of the reason is the principle that the Bible should be expected to be clear about such an important subject, including with the terms it uses. Defenders of eternal torment will often say, albeit mistakenly, that Jesus spoke more about hell than about heaven, meaning that we should understand and heed his solemn warnings. So there is often the same kind of conviction about the clarity of biblical teaching on the side of eternal torment as well. This article puts that claim to the test.

Continue reading “Perspicuity or Ambiguity: Could the Bible Have Been Clearer on Hell?”

Warned of Sin’s Wages: A Concise Explanation of Death in Genesis 2:17 and Romans 6:23

In Genesis 2:17, God’s warning “you will certainly die” (מֹות תָּמֽוּת) refers to the penalty or consequence of Adam and Eve’s sin, should they disobey God’s command not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. They had been given free access to the Tree of Life in order to “live forever” (Gen 3:22 cf. 2:16), but this ongoing privilege would be forfeited if they ate fruit from the other tree, which was “good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom” (Gen 3:6). They did succumb to this temptation, after believing the serpent’s lie that they would not surely die. This resulted in the introduction of human death into the world—death as normally and universally understood; sometimes called “physical death.”1I recommend against using qualifiers like “physical” and “biological” if they can be avoided, since they can imply an unhelpful dichotomy with a so-called “spiritual death.” They can also unduly provoke interest in mechanisms of bodies and souls that might attend death, but which don’t need to be qualified in the ordinary use of “death.” If qualification is needed, I suggest “ordinary death.” We should always think about death functionally, as the negation of life. So we should not think of “the second death” as categorically different from “the first death” (terminology the Bible never uses). On both occasions, death still brings life to an end, even if the second time around this may be complete and permanent (Matt 10:28). Romans 6:23 refers simply to “death” because the universal wages of sin is not first, second, physical, or spiritual: it’s just death, the ending of life.

. . . for in the day that you eat from it you will certainly die” (Gen 2:17)

The most common objection to the above is that if ordinary human death is in view, Adam and Eve apparently did not die “in the day” that they ate (Gen 2:17). But this is to misunderstand the Hebrew idiom “in the day” and the special function of “certainly die,” which, along with attention to context, must inform our reading of the English (lest we misread the warning with modern assumptions). As Walter Kaiser explains:2Walter C. Kaiser, Jr., Peter H. Davids, F. F. Bruce, and Manfred T. Baruch, “Hard Sayings of the Bible” (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1996), p. 92, emphasis in original.

It is just as naive to insist that the phrase “in the day” means that on that very day death would occur. A little knowledge of the Hebrew idiom will relieve the tension here as well. For example, in 1 Kings 2:37 King Solomon warned a seditious Shimei, “The day you leave [Jerusalem] and cross the Kidron Valley [which is immediately outside the city walls on the east side of the city], you can be sure you will die.” Neither the 1 Kings nor the Genesis text implies immediacy of action on that very same day; instead they point to the certainty of the predicted consequence that would be set in motion by the act initiated on that day. Alternate wordings include at the time when, at that time, now when and the day [when] (see Gen. 5:1; Ex. 6:28; 10:28; 32:34).

In other words, “you will certainly die” became true instantly, as a kind of death sentence or curse. In the Hebrew, this phrase is a language construct known as an infinitive absolute.3The infinitive absolute here is paired with a finite verb of the same root, roughly as “dying-die,” for what Gotthelf Bergsträsser describes as “a peculiarly Hebrew hybrid of verbal noun and verbal interjection of imperative character.” The infinitive absolute is a verbal noun, referring not to the actual dying of Adam and Eve, but to dying itself in the abstract. Then the interjection of “die” carries a similar condemning sense to the sentiment, “Die! Die!,” only without such intensity and animus. Intensification is one function of the infinitive absolute, but in Genesis 2:17 the other main function is served: certification. Death is being certified, or made certain. Since in context the infinitive absolute emphasizes certainty, and lends this effect to the whole construction, it should be read nominally, i.e. functioning as a noun or label–not merely as a death that is incidentally certain, but as a thing called “dying-die” or “certainly-die,” that in turn carries that implication. Therefore we must conclude, even before we learn that this is indeed how it is used elsewhere, that the construct functions as a kind of sentence or curse. It has no exact equivalent in English, and should be read not as a statement about when death will occur, but rather to emphasize the certainty of death being incurred.

Not only is the language different to our own way of speaking, but the general concept is different to our own way of thinking, due to very different cultural contexts. When someone incurs the death penalty today, it happens well after the crime was committed, and is handed down in a courtroom after a formal process to convict. None of that was available or needed in Genesis, because God himself had declared what would happen. So it makes sense in this context to focus on God’s warning becoming true and certain the very moment the “crime” would occur. Simply put, the transgression would make certain the death. Beforehand, they were not going to die. But once they sinned, they were going to die. Even if this is a little unfamiliar to us, we can still see how it is simple and straightforward.

So the timing of the death event was never specified in God’s warning, which was about the logical immediacy of the outcome of death, not its temporal immediacy. Both logical and temporal immediacy may be discerned in the idiom “in the day,” but any temporal immediacy here pertains to death becoming certain, not to death itself. As Kaiser pointed out in the quote above, there is simply no “immediacy of action.”

To confirm that modern Hebrew scholars have correctly understood the ancient nuances behind “In the day you eat, you will certainly die,” we can consult the ancient Aramaic rendering of Genesis 2:17 in the Targum Jonathan. It reads, “in the day that thou eatest thou wilt be guilty of death.”4See J. W. Etheridge, “The Targums of Onkelos and Jonathan Ben Uzziel on the Pentateuch,” 1862, 1865. This is clear and not prone to any misreading. But although our conventional translation is less clear and doesn’t preclude misreadings, it still adequately approximates the Hebrew. Misreadings can occur for different reasons, especially the intrusion of modern assumptions and expectations. For example, from a concordist desire to avoid any suggestion that human death never existed beforehand (based on one’s view of human origins). Or, as we often see at Rethinking Hell, based on the goal of defending eternal torment instead of death. Another reason is just the translation tradition for this well-known verse, which prefers formal-equivalence here since this is a solemn utterance of God with such far-reaching implications for humankind. Regardless, the way it is rendered in the Targum suffices to show that at the time of Jesus, people understood God’s warning to be about ordinary death.

Continue reading “Warned of Sin’s Wages: A Concise Explanation of Death in Genesis 2:17 and Romans 6:23”

References
1 I recommend against using qualifiers like “physical” and “biological” if they can be avoided, since they can imply an unhelpful dichotomy with a so-called “spiritual death.” They can also unduly provoke interest in mechanisms of bodies and souls that might attend death, but which don’t need to be qualified in the ordinary use of “death.” If qualification is needed, I suggest “ordinary death.” We should always think about death functionally, as the negation of life. So we should not think of “the second death” as categorically different from “the first death” (terminology the Bible never uses). On both occasions, death still brings life to an end, even if the second time around this may be complete and permanent (Matt 10:28). Romans 6:23 refers simply to “death” because the universal wages of sin is not first, second, physical, or spiritual: it’s just death, the ending of life.
2 Walter C. Kaiser, Jr., Peter H. Davids, F. F. Bruce, and Manfred T. Baruch, “Hard Sayings of the Bible” (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1996), p. 92, emphasis in original.
3 The infinitive absolute here is paired with a finite verb of the same root, roughly as “dying-die,” for what Gotthelf Bergsträsser describes as “a peculiarly Hebrew hybrid of verbal noun and verbal interjection of imperative character.” The infinitive absolute is a verbal noun, referring not to the actual dying of Adam and Eve, but to dying itself in the abstract. Then the interjection of “die” carries a similar condemning sense to the sentiment, “Die! Die!,” only without such intensity and animus. Intensification is one function of the infinitive absolute, but in Genesis 2:17 the other main function is served: certification. Death is being certified, or made certain. Since in context the infinitive absolute emphasizes certainty, and lends this effect to the whole construction, it should be read nominally, i.e. functioning as a noun or label–not merely as a death that is incidentally certain, but as a thing called “dying-die” or “certainly-die,” that in turn carries that implication. Therefore we must conclude, even before we learn that this is indeed how it is used elsewhere, that the construct functions as a kind of sentence or curse.
4 See J. W. Etheridge, “The Targums of Onkelos and Jonathan Ben Uzziel on the Pentateuch,” 1862, 1865.

Atonement Debate Redux: Lean Not On Your Own Understanding

While contending for Conditional Immortality within today’s evangelical world, it can often feel like one is in a battle of sorts: a contest of theological rigor, consistency, and biblical fidelity. This sense of contention gives rise to lively deliberations on social media, conversations with friends and family, discussions within churches, and even formal academic debate. What delights me most about all the interaction around conditionalism lately is the increased focus on the atonement and the soteriological implications of what we believe about what awaits the risen lost. In a theological battle that to date has been—to an extent—characterized by misunderstandings and vacuous rhetoric, it is encouraging to see a more focused approach come from both sides, especially those around the atoning sacrifice made by Christ on our behalf.

I recently had the privilege to join the fight for conditionalism on the Rethinking Hell Podcast and have eagerly awaited the continued dialogue that was sure to follow. So imagine my delight when I was informed that a former debate opponent of Chris Date has recently written about the connection between final punishment and penal substitutionary atonement! With great anticipation I prepared for doctrinal battle and awaited the pointed arguments I expected to encounter, only to find that in the end, the only attacks aimed at me fell upon straw men! How sad. Nevertheless, it is instructive to address what arguments have arisen in this new wave of focus on the atonement. Conditionalism’s critics often lean heavily on their own understanding of our claims, hastily waxing eloquent about our supposed errors without representing us fully or accurately. This article will address such arguments, and others, made in “Does the Doctrine of Hell Conflict With Penal Substitutionary Atonement” by  Hiram R. Diaz III on biblicaltrinitarian.com. Continue reading “Atonement Debate Redux: Lean Not On Your Own Understanding”

Annihilation in 2 Thessalonians 1:9 (Part 2): Separation or Obliteration?—The Present Controversy

Note: This article is part of a series. Part 1 presented a clear and consistent understanding of 2 Thessalonians 1:9 based on relevant context. Here, Part 2 justifies that reading by dealing with more complex matters of translation and interpretation, interacting with respected critics.

Around the middle of the first century, the apostle Paul wrote the following to the church in Thessalonica:

…which is manifest evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you also suffer; it is a righteous thing with God to repay with tribulation those who trouble you, and to give you who are troubled rest with us when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels, in flaming fire taking vengeance on those who do not know God, and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. These shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His power, when He comes, in that Day, to be glorified in His saints and to be admired among all those who believe…

This is how the NKJV renders 2 Thessalonians 1:5-10 (note in particular verse 9, in bold). Some other translations render this passage a little differently, so you might be surprised to learn that it is often touted as a text which speaks in favor of traditionalism. On its face, “affliction” leading to “everlasting destruction” at the revealing of Christ from heaven sounds a lot like the punishment that conditionalists believe will befall God’s enemies. And as the previous article in this series shows, a simple yet thorough reading of the text in its context does indeed support conditionalism.

Despite this, some traditionalists well-versed in the biblical languages have raised arguments suggesting we should look beyond the apparent meaning of this passage. We will now consider their arguments, as we study this passage more closely. What we will discover will add nuance to our understanding, but it will also confirm that the simple, obvious reading is just what Paul intended.

Continue reading “Annihilation in 2 Thessalonians 1:9 (Part 2): Separation or Obliteration?—The Present Controversy”