In Matthew 16 Jesus declares to Peter that he is the rock on which he will build his church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it. What does that mean?
In popular piety it’s most often quoted when we feel under attack by the forces of the Enemy. We’re most likely under ‘attack’ much more often than most modern Christians would allow, the nature of being modern people means that we find the idea that the Satan is a real person confusing enough. Our demonology tends to be deficient in return—not least because you’re much more likely to find ‘demonology’ as a skill in role-playing game than in a book of theology.
That’s an important set of questions, but let’s pull back to what Jesus tells Peter. We use it to reassure ourselves that the church will stand despite assault. This is true, and the Bible affirms it multiple times (Ephesians 5 & 6, Romans 8, John 17, Revelation). However, as preachers are fond of pointing out, gates don’t attack things. In the saying the church is the one who is attacking these gates of Hell.
We could be diverted into a discussion of how the church should be advancing, taking the fight to the Enemy and his legions. I think that’s right as a disposition, though we’ll end up finding it more difficult to apply than we might imagine—I’d suggest doing things is probably where you start. Start by starting. Except, while I think that’s true too, that’s not what this means.
What are the gates of Hell, anyway? And where are they? And why does the lake of fire that the devil and his angels are thrown into (Revelation 20) have gates? And why can we attack them now when the Enemy is the Prince of this world not some place underneath it (e.g. John 16, Ephesians 2, 2 Corinthians 4)?
These are good questions. We should start by noting that Jesus didn’t say the ‘gates of Hell.’ Every other time the New Testament uses the word hades it’s translated as—no prizes for guessing—Hades (ok, technically it’s not translated at all). Jesus says that the gates of Hades won’t stand against the church.
We might think that that’s just the Greek word for Hell, and it is and it isn’t—depending on what we mean by ‘Hell.’ Hades in the Greek mind is the place of the dead and the name of the ruling god of that place. You can read about it in numerous Greek myths. It’s an unpleasant place of shadows, not a place of torture but a sorrowful wasting—or maybe read with Christian eyes, a waiting—a land in which you are forgotten slowly. The great heroes do not ascend to the hall of Olympus to feast with the gods, they lie forgotten, their only legacy the memory and story of their deeds. When the living speak to the dead in the myths, the dead aren’t happy about their lot.
It is reminiscent of, if not identical to, the Jewish idea of Sheol; the shadowy place of the dead that lies under the earth. This, unlike Hades, had a place for the righteous dead to await resurrection—called Abraham’s bosom—but otherwise is similar in depiction. Considering the Greek heroes didn’t worship Yahweh and so we assume weren’t headed to the bosom of Abraham, we’re on a reasonable footing to suggest that the cultures would see their ideas reflected in each others’ beliefs.
I want to go further and just say they’re the same place, even if all the details aren’t right. Orpheus is trying to rescue Eurydice from Sheol.
Jesus says that the gates of the place of the dead will not prevail against the church. He is talking not about some place that the Enemy lives but his descent into the grave. He broke the gates of Hades. He broke the gates of Sheol. He broke the gates of death. He wrested death out of the grip of its ruler—who is the Satan, so we aren’t that far away from what you thought it meant (Hebrews 2)—and now holds the keys of death and Hades himself (Revelation 1). He stole the keys to the gates and they are thrown wide open by the one who bears the words of life (John 6).
Because Jesus blew death wide open and burst out the back a conquering hero, and then started a new creation in a garden with a woman (John 20), the church herself, death no longer holds a sting (1 Corinthians 15). The church, as our mother, is given the right to bring us from death to life in baptism. The gates do not prevail against her, no one in the church who dies is held corded in the listless lifeless wasteland on the far side of the Styx, but rather is welcomed in a garden by Jesus (Luke 23). That garden is still a place of waiting, perhaps it’s even planted wherever Abraham’s bosom was metaphysically (though it seems better to think of it being ‘up’ rather than ‘down’), but we will be waiting in the presence of Jesus for our final rest, resurrected on the earth after she too dies and rises.
How did Jesus defeat the Satan (literally, the ‘Accuser’) on the cross? He made his accusations false by imputing righteousness to us, but he also bound the strong man and robbed his goods (Matthew 12). He heard the Enemy’s claim to rule over death and the place of death and, laughing, took the keys from his hand.
So, dear friends, rejoice for the Lord has won the victory. Death is dead. Love has won. Christ has conquered.
Photo by Alexander Mils on Unsplash
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