By Nick Gier | FāVS News Columnist
I have studied and taught world religions for over 60 years, and every new discovery makes me want to learn more. I once taught Zoroastrianism together with Hinduism because of their common origins in what is now Afghanistan.
The only direct reference to Zoroastrians in the Bible is the so-called Wise Men who are said to have attended Jesus’ birth. The Greek word used to identify them is magoi (hence Magi) and they were Zoroastrian priests.
The Magi and Zoroaster’s revolutionary theology
The Magi may have been looking for their own savior Saoshyant, but they, according to the biblical story, found the baby Jesus instead. However, if they were following a star in the east from their home in Iran, they would have been travelling away from Bethlehem.
There is a growing consensus that Zoroaster lived sometime in the 11 century B.C.E. If this is so, Zoroaster as the first monotheist was a theological revolutionary. For him God is perfect goodness and could not do evil, including inflicting the pain of punishment. Compare this with the God of Isaiah 45:7.
Therefore, Zoroaster believed that the final penalty must be self-inflicted. This means that Last Judgment must be self-judgement: “Long-lasting darkness, ill food, and wailing – to such an existence shall your conscience lead you by your own deeds, O wicked ones” (Yasna 31:20).
These ideas of self-judgment are pervasive in Zoroaster’s writings. Here are more: “They shall be tortured by their own souls and their own consciences” (Yasna 46:11); “may all of their actions turn against them with hostility” (46:8); “their own consciences would not only bring on their ruin but would form part of their punishment” (46:8).
Zoroastrianism embodies the common dictum that virtue is its own reward and vice is its own punishment. It is easy for people to embrace their own good deeds, but how do we get them to acknowledge their evil deeds?
Jean-Paul Sartre, a Nobel laureate in literature, offers his own answer in his brilliant play “No Exit.” After their deaths, three people are locked in a room that has no windows and no light switches. Their eyelids have been removed, so that Inez, Estelle and Garcin are forever awake.
Sartre’s ‘No Exit’: Hell as eternal self-exposure
When Garcin describes them as dead, Estelle objects to the word: “I’ve never been so much alive as now.” They immediately start squabbling among themselves, and Inez sees the devilish irony in that fact that, to save on staff and equipment, Satan has allowed each of them to torture the other.
When Estelle wants to attend to her makeup she discovers, with horror, that there are no mirrors. Inez offers her eyes instead, but Estelle complains: “I’m so tiny.” When Inez says that she will guide the application of the makeup, Estelle says she can’t trust her.
Sartre’s hell, intriguingly, is above the world not below it, and the three are able to follow people on Earth who are taking on new lovers or who are judging them in their absence. This literary device allows the characters to be tortured from below and as well as in their locked room.
Inez tells Garcin that “you have us in the nude all right.”
Garcin agrees, “We’re naked, naked right through, and I can see into your heart.”
With all escape routes barred, each of them finally confesses; they can no longer hold any secrets.
The three slowly realize that the pain of being exposed for what they are, and the difficulty of coming to grips with their deeds is far worse than all the anticipated tortures of the Christian hell. As Garcin concludes with this now famous statement: “There’s no need of red-hot pokers. Hell is – other people.”
While much of the action involves judgment by others, there are also basic elements of self-judgment. Garcin states: “There were days when you peered into yourself, into the secret places of your heart, and what you saw there made you faint with horror. Yes, you know what evil costs.”
Mysteriously, the door to their cell temporarily opens, and the prisoners are momentarily elated by the prospects of escape. They realize, however, that they will never escape the final reckoning with which they must face.
Some directors have expanded a final scene in which the actors find themselves overcome with a veritable fit of laughter. This is no ordinary laughter, but it is what I called “cosmic” laughter, a response — found in many traditions — to the absurdity of human existence. For more see nfgier.com/laozi-zhuangzi-and-nietzsche.
Universal themes across traditions
The Buddhist “Tibetan Book of the Dead” offers similar themes on the afterlife with a less harsh view that might be considered Last Judgment as self-acceptance. There is a celebration of the virtuous in Christianity, Buddhism and Zoroastrianism, but all of Sartre’s rooms, presumably, are filled with people who end up torturing one another.
Returning to Zoroaster and his birth stories, we find that these accounts conform nicely with what I call the Savior Archetype. I mention here just one fun coincidence: Instead of crying at his miraculous birth, the baby Zoroaster breaks out in hardy laughter.
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.
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This was fascinating! I love the deep dive. I agree with your opening statement – I want more!