Eternal Does Not (Always) Mean Forever

Translation is Tough Work

Translation is hard work. Very rarely does one word from one language map perfectly onto another. Usually, what we're working with are semantic ranges. Think of a Venn diagram: a word in Greek overlaps in meaning with a word in English, and we try to find where that overlap is strongest.

Sometimes the right English word changes depending on the context. That's just part of the complexity. And when it comes to something as rich and layered as the Bible, that complexity is magnified. So, deep respect to every scholar involved in Bible translation.

But I do have a pet peeve: when English translations choose different words for the same Greek word in the same passage. It happens more than you might think, and it can obscure connections that were intentionally crafted by the biblical authors.

The Curious Case of "Aionios"

One word that suffers from this treatment is aionios. Sometimes it's translated as "eternal." Other times it's rendered as "age." Both are within the word's semantic range, but they evoke very different ideas in English.

This becomes a real issue in Matthew 24-25. The disciples ask, "What will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?" That word, aion, sets the context for everything Jesus says next. And yet, just a chapter later, when Jesus speaks of "eternal punishment" and "eternal life" in the parable of the sheep and the goats, the Greek word is aionios – the adjectival form of aion.

In English, we hear "eternal" and jump to metaphysical extremes: bliss or torment that lasts forever. But that's not how aion worked in Greek. It referred to a significant period of time, an age marked by defining characteristics. Homer used it to describe the era of a hero's life. Think King Arthur's time. Think the age of David. These were aions – long, impactful epochs, not conceptual eternities.

Life That Evolves, Not Life That Freezes

Even the idea of "eternal life" isn't about static perfection. If we believe in eternal life, we also believe in death. But life, real life, is resilient. It adapts, evolves, transforms. So maybe eternal life isn't about endlessness, but about indestructibility – life that survives even death and becomes something new.

The Hebrew tradition echoes this. The disciples ask about the end of ha’olam hazeh (this age) and the beginning of ha’olam haba (the age to come). This age includes beauty and brokenness, joy and longing. The age to come is the promised restoration. So when Jesus answers with stories – of the wedding guests, the talents, and the sheep and the goats – he's pointing to that transition. From this age to the next.

Not Eternal Torture, But Restorative Pruning

Now, here’s where it gets fascinating. When Jesus speaks of punishment, he doesn’t use the usual word for destruction (apoleia). Instead, he uses kolasis – a term originally tied to pruning, to gardening. Yes, it evolved to mean punishment or correction, but its roots are restorative, not retributive.

An early Christian text, the Apocalypse of Sedrach, uses this word to say: "Your punishment, O God, is discipline." Pruning can hurt. Discipline can sting. But the goal is growth. Restoration.

So when Jesus says the goats go to kolasis aionios, maybe he doesn't mean endless torment. Maybe he means the pruning of the age – the hard, holy work of bringing this era to its rightful end.

The Invitation to Trust

Jesus doesn’t spell out whether the goats welcome that pruning. He just says they go into the discipline of the age, and the sheep enter the life of the age to come.

But what if we trusted that all of this – even the hard parts, even the pruning – is somehow, mysteriously, for our good?

What if the age to come isn’t just something to fear or long for, but something already beginning in us?

One slow, redemptive cut at a time.