On the Question of an Intermediate State Between Death and Resurrection in the NT

(avg. read time: 8–16 mins.)

To follow up on my previous post about resurrection in 2 Corinthians, I want to address more broadly the question that arises from that text and others about whether or not there is an intermediate state for the believer between death and resurrection where the believer is conscious and in a state of bliss. I have no doubt that this will be a rather controversial post for my readers, as my previous post also raised several issues for how that text is commonly read.

Typically, four or five NT texts are adduced for support of the Bible teaching that there will be such an intermediate state (I think I have made clear enough what I think are the best ways of reading the relevant OT texts in my entries on Sheol and resurrection in the OT). I have already written extensively on the various parts of 2 Cor 5 (esp. v. 8) that are adduced for this argument, and I would rather not repeat them here. The ones that remain to be addressed are Jesus’s parable about the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16:19–31, Paul’s statement in Phil 1:23 that is often compared to 2 Cor 5:8, and the description of the “souls” of the martyrs under the heavenly altar in Rev 6:9–11. (An additional text that is sometimes brought up is Jesus’s promise in Luke 23:43 to the criminal on the cross beside him that he will be with him in paradise. I do not address that text in this entry because I do not know that I could do as well as Wilson Paroschi without basically repeating him. See his analysis here. All I would add is that, even if the case for the alternative punctuation was established, there is an additional possibility that Jesus offers this comfort from the individual, internal perspective to the man as he will experience it, as we noted about Paul in 2 Cor 5.)

But before we get to those texts, I want to start with some more general points about certain presumptions that come with reading these texts. First, as with 2 Corinthians, we must beware of mistaking the plausibility of a reading based on common-sense dualism for its plausibility based on detailed analysis of the biblical text. When one does not presume such dualism from the outset, its weaknesses may become apparent, as in 2 Corinthians.

Second, some might be inclined to think that it is obvious that the NT should address the matter of the intermediate state because it emerged in a context where some Second Temple Jewish texts described a conscious intermediate state for the dead between death and resurrection, as well as a context in which those who described the afterlife sometimes spoke of it in terms of disembodiment. However, since Greco-Roman frameworks do not demonstrably shape the NT writers in a positive fashion in this regard, and since Second Temple Jewish texts were diverse on this matter (e.g., not every text that articulated resurrection belief said something about an intermediate state), there does not appear to be a reason to take for granted that the NT would address this subject in a way similar to either Greco-Roman philosophy or the Second Temple Jewish texts that address it.

Third, in that same line of thinking, yes, Paul was a Pharisee, and Pharisees were characterized in this era as believing in an intermediate conscious state for the dead between death and resurrection (e.g., Josephus, Ant. 18.14–15). And Paul does not explicitly show that he shifted on this point when he became a Christian evangelist. However, one has to remember two factors here. One, we do not know that all Pharisees thought this way about what happens after death, so that it was somehow a sine qua non for them. Two, I think there is an important implication of Paul’s contrast in 1 Cor 15:44–45 of the σῶμα ψυχικόν (the present mortal body belonging to and animated by the life-breath) and the σῶμα πνευματικόν (the body of the new creation belonging to and animated by the life-giving Spirit of Christ) to consider. As Paul reflected on this contrast between the present body and the eschatological body, as well as on the union with Christ by the same Spirit that is already present, he might have realized that there is not really any room for the ψυχή having some distinct eschatological role, even in an interim state. It thus simply returns to its function in the LXX of Genesis as the life-breath God animates Adam by, along with the rest of the human race in the present age, rather than being some incorporeal aspect of the human personality that persists consciously after death. After all, it is notable that Paul nowhere describes the ψυχή as “immortal” or “everlasting,” nor even as something that continues after death. It is a part of anthropology in the present that must be accounted for, but it has no clear role in the eschatological vision.

Luke 16:19–31

With that ground-clearing done, let us address the specific texts. The parable about the rich man and Lazarus has often been read as a portrayal of the afterlife, wherein some form of judgment has already taken place (since the rich man and Lazarus are in distinct realms), but presumably the eschatological resurrection remains in the future (Luke 16:27–31). This is already difficult to reconcile with Jesus’s teaching on judgment elsewhere (perhaps most notably in Matt 25:31–46) that implies an eschatological setting without otherwise referring to one after death that decides whether one goes to one destination or another (such teaching will be the subject of a series later this year). This is especially peculiar if there is supposed to be an element of surprise present at the final judgment, as in Matt 25, yet there is already an irreversible judgment in place here (symbolized by the great chasm over which none can cross in 16:26). Indeed, there is no sense here that any judgment is being awaited. All that is being waited for is for others to arrive at these different destinations.

It is also unclear how far, on the dualist reading of this text, the literal description is supposed to be pushed. One would think with a parable that treating the details as a non-metaphorical picture of what is being described is not the best approach. But in what is supposed to be a disembodied afterlife, we are told of Abraham’s “bosom,” Lazarus’s “finger,” and the rich man’s “tongue,” that he wishes to be cooled with “water” because he is in this “flame.” And on top of this, there is a reference to a “chasm” that none can cross, which one would have to wonder how that would be so for a disembodied entity. Nor is it clear how the characters in this story speaking to each other across this uncrossable chasm can see and hear each other.¹ But these details are not typically taken literally, lest they interfere with the idea that this is a literal picture of an intermediate afterlife. Furthermore, a fixation on the details of this text would seem to lead to the conclusion that the only aspect of this judgment that matters is the reversal of fortunes for the rich and the poor; no other factor is mentioned. By this portrayal, taken in this way, justice would consist simply of reversal, although now with everlasting consequence, not with any other factors taken into account.

As such, it is best not to take this as a literal picture of what to expect after death. Rather, the parable is focused on this rich/poor dynamic in the context of Luke’s larger themes about riches and about the kingdom of God’s reversal of injustice (including along the rich/poor axis). In one way, it is an extension of the parable of the rich fool in 12:13–21, where the rich man did not realize he was a fool for his devoting his heart to his riches and storing them up on earth until it was too late. But rather than the realization coming just prior to his death, the rich man in this text only comes to the realization after death (yet he still treats Lazarus as an inferior who he wishes Abraham would send to serve his need). Of course, what makes this rich man’s case even worse is that Lazarus was a man at his very gate (v. 20) whom he could have benefited, but he paid him no heed. In so doing, he fundamentally failed to heed the Scriptures, as Abraham says (vv. 29, 31), and as Jesus says of the Pharisees in the lead-up to this parable (vv. 14–18).

Also, as indicated before, this parable should be understood in light of the Lukan motif of eschatological reversal in God setting the world aright (1:48, 52–53; 6:20–26; 13:30; 14:8–11; 18:14; cf. 14:12–14; 21:1–4). This is the same axis along which the parable moves, rather than, say, as a response to a question about the afterlife or resurrection. One must remember that this parable comes in response to the scoffing of avaricious Pharisees and so Jesus is warning them that they can be on the wrong side of God’s setting the world aright if they do not heed the message of the Scriptures, particularly concerning the poor (16:14–18; cf. 11:39–44). The parable serves as a warning in that context, not as a straightforward teaching meant to systematically outline what to expect in the afterlife before the resurrection.

Phil 1:23

Next, the key text from Paul—besides the one from 2 Cor 5 that I have addressed previously—comes from Phil 1:23, though we must treat it in its immediate context of vv. 18–24. Paul is expressing in this letter written from prison his desire that, no matter what, Christ should be proclaimed. Whether he lives or dies, he wants for Christ to be exalted in his body. This leads for him to say in v. 21, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” This implies a preference for the condition he will experience after death, as in 2 Cor 5:8. But at the same time, he is torn, knowing that to continue to live in the flesh (the body of the present as opposed to the glorified body of Phil 3:21) will lead to fruitful work. But, in our given text of v. 23, he also has the desire to depart and to be with Christ, which he describes as much better.

This text lacks the peculiar language of 2 Cor 5:8, but in concept it conveys much the same points. And like with that text, the typical dualist reading is presumptuously eisegetical. The same elements of identifying the person with the soul as distinguished from the body, of the soul leaving the body at death, and of the soul specifically going to heaven are read into this text. He introduces no such anthropological divisions and distinctions here that many, based on the forcefulness of common-sense dualism more so than on the demands of the text itself, attribute to him. He simply says that death would involve him departing and being with Christ.

As with 2 Cor 5:8, we should see this text as a reference to resurrection described from the individual and internal perspective. The language of departure matches the description of being “absent from the/this body” there. Likewise, the language of being with Christ as being better matches the description of being “at home with the Lord” as preferable there. In the context of 2 Cor 5, this language made the most sense as referring to resurrection using Paul’s language and internal perspective peculiar to that text. Here, it thus also makes sense as a reference to resurrection, which he will talk about more in ch. 3, whereas his text otherwise has no place for an intermediate state.

But unlike in 2 Cor 5:8, he explicitly states that it is more necessary for him to remain in the flesh because of his audience in Philippi (v. 24). In part, this also has to do with a further difference from 2 Cor 5, where he speaks from the first person as a representative of the apostolic ministry. But here, he speaks only for himself and for his own circumstances. Obviously, he would prefer above all for Christ to return, resolve this tension for him, and bring all his hopes to pass. But that is not his concern. His concern is his life and the ministry that comes with it, both given to him as a charge by God.

Rev 6:9–11

That leaves us with the text from Revelation. Here, unlike the other texts, we do have a direct reference to the ψυχὰς of those who have been slain because of the word of God and their testimony (μαρτυρία). They are said to be under the heavenly altar and to be crying out to God, asking how long he will continue to refrain from judging and avenging. They are each given white robes and told to rest until the time is fulfilled.

On first glance, this would seem to be as straightforward a case for an intermediate, conscious afterlife as one could expect. However, it is another case in which the dualist reading is all too selective in how literally it treats this text, which would be quite peculiar in any case for an apocalyptic text. Even interpreters who otherwise take seriously the symbolic representations that characterize Revelation will nevertheless try to treat this image more literally. But if we are talking about a literal picture of disembodied souls here, why are they residing under an altar? And why would they be given white robes to wear, which surely they could not wear if disembodied? Rather, the white robes are rightly seen as having a symbolic force, but not this picture of the ψυχὰς under the altar. It is also peculiar that this portion of Rev 6 is designated as a literal description while the surrounding text is taken symbolically.

As for the details of the text itself, a few points should be noted, especially in light of the pervasive, formative influence of the OT on Revelation. One, in every case in which this term is used besides here and 20:4, there is no trouble in seeing that it refers to life, creatureliness, persons, or something to that effect (8:9; 12:11; 16:3; 18:13–14). This fits especially with how ψυχή is used in the LXX as a translation for the term נפשׁ, which also referred to the life-breath God gave creatures. In the OT this did not refer to a distinct, incorporeal anthropological aspect of a person either, and here (as well as 20:4) we should likewise see the term as referring to “persons” (or something to that effect) who have died and thus given up the life-breath God gave them. They are under the altar because they have been treated like sacrifices and offerings in how their blood has been poured out (cf. 16:16; Phil 2:17; 2 Tim 4:6).

Two, this imagery is similar to the poetic descriptions of the residents of Sheol we have noted before, especially with reference to Isa 14; Ezek 31; 32. Here I will reiterate what I said in that analysis:

Texts like this are often taken as bases for describing Sheol as a conscious afterlife existence. But such an interpretation neglects the poetic context of such descriptions and the utility of personification in poetic literature. This text is no more indicative of the activity of the dead than the personified references to Sheol indicate that it is a being of some kind. The speech of the dead here is simply a way of providing mocking commentary on the death of the king of Babylon. Otherwise, this would be a contradiction without purpose of the commonly cited concern that those in Sheol or the dead in general cannot praise God or declare truths about him (to give an example not noted yet: Isa 38:18). If this was meant as a literal description, obviously they could (particularly if Sheol is supposed to be the realm of all the dead). Indeed, this is not meant as a contradiction of those ideas, but simply as a poetic description of the king’s remarkable fall and death from those who are as powerless as he is at this point in his story, being occupants of Sheol like he is now.

Of course, this text is not providing mocking commentary on the martyrs, but it still fulfills the function of providing commentary on the death of the people involved. Here, the commentary comes in noting the reason for their death (faithful witness) and in expressing the outcry for justice and retribution to be done. Thus, the commentary on death looks ahead to resurrection to justice and everlasting life in a redeemed creation (as the narrative arc of Revelation itself shows).

Three, in that light, this text is also parallel to the blood of Abel crying out to God in Gen 4:10. But whereas that is rightly seen as a poetic description, this text is often taken literally for what “souls” do. If not for the key terminology and the associations it has accrued (particularly in the translations of it), this function would be readily recognized, especially in an apocalyptic text.

Four, their being clothed in white is not an OT connection, but it resonates with a motif that recurs throughout Revelation. Outside of 6:11, it serves as a way of identifying the faithful (3:18; 4:4; 7:9, 13–14; cf. 22:14), signifying both purity and victory. Likewise, in the first reference to this image in the letter to Sardis, the reception of the white robe is an eschatological promise for after the resurrection (3:4–5), as are the other promises to those who conquer/are victorious in the seven letters. This fits with the inaugurated eschatology of Revelation, wherein believers already have assurance of victory by their participation in the victory of Christ, the one who has already inaugurated the eschatological reality by the eschatological event of his resurrection followed by his exaltation. The image of being clothed in white here ahead of the resurrection serves as a guarantee that the future of these faithful witnesses is secure.

Thus, we find for all of these texts that there is a better case to be made for alternative readings than for the popular readings of them referring to an intermediate, conscious state for believers between death and resurrection. The parable in Luke uses the afterlife as imagery to make points that fit with Luke as a whole, rather than to convey a literal picture of the afterlife. To posit such a literal picture would create too much dissonance with the rest of Luke and the rest of Jesus’s teaching. Paul’s text in Philippians should indeed be read like 2 Cor 5:8, but I have argued in both cases that the common dualist reading is significantly flawed. Like Luke’s parable, Revelation also does not present a literal picture of the afterlife, but its imagery is also at the service of more pervasive points in the book. Like much of the rest of Revelation, it takes inspiration from the OT in commenting on the deaths of the martyrs and it otherwise provides a comforting promise that the victorious future of the martyrs is guaranteed.

1. I had initially overlooked this feature, but it was pointed out to me in conversation with Keldie Paroschi.