The Garden Where God Walks
“Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
Our Lord was strikingly eloquent as he lay dying on the Cross. Scourged, rejected, exhausted, and suffocating, he nevertheless spoke some of his most explosive words while being murdered. We cannot merely shrug and say, “Well, he’s God.” These words came from fluid-filled lungs, raspy throat, swollen tongue. They came when he was exhausted and dying. Yet they are so profound that theologians have meditated on them for centuries. In this treasure hoard, the most enigmatic saying of our Lord is, “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.”
On the surface, these words may seem unproblematic. But saints have wrestled with them since the first days of the Church. Because what they obviously seem to mean—today you’ll be with me in heaven—they cannot mean. First, while Jesus’ divine nature is always in heaven, on Good Friday his body would be in the tomb and his soul in Sheol, the Limbo of the Fathers. So it seems odd that the Thief would be in heaven while our Lord descends to hell. But, even more strikingly, it is the testimony of faith that no one entered heaven before Christ's resurrection. So how could the Thief sneak in on Good Friday? To try and understand this saying, I want to approach it from three different angles by examining the following terms: “in Paradise,” “today,” and “with me.”
Paradise is a rich concept in Scripture. Aside from Jesus’ word from the Cross, the Greek term appears two times in the New Testament. Paul uses it to describe his vision in the third heaven (2 Cor. 12:3). And John uses it as one of the promised rewards in Jesus’ seven letters to the churches (Rev 2:7), where it is directly linked to the tree of life and, presumably, Eden. The word itself means a park or garden, and seems to derive from the Persian pleasure gardens built with such grandeur in the that great empire to the East. Things really come into focus when looking at the Septuagint, the ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament which was used by the Apostles. There, we certainly see the connection to Persianate gardens in the use of “paradise” repeatedly for the story of Daniel and Susanna. In Nehemiah 2:8 we see something similar—the paradise is the king’s woodland reserve. The sense of pleasure gardens or places of frivolity is the meaning the word takes on in Ecclesiastes 2:5. But by far the most important use of “paradise” is threaded all throughout Genesis 2 and 3, where it's the word used for Garden: the Garden of Eden.
Already in the Old Testament this took on greater significance than a mere physical place. In Sirach, paradise is the place that Wisdom dances (24:31). It becomes an orchard of the virtues of kindness and fear of the Lord (40:17, 27). In Isaiah, paradise becomes the saving promise, as God promises to restore Israel after Exile (51:3). Ezekiel shows us a vision of the paradise of Eden that is starkly odd, filled with gems, set on a mountain covered with stones of fire, and somehow synonymous with trade and Tyre (28:12–16). Paradise, the paradise of Eden, was more than a pleasure garden. It’s a golden realm, a place of myth and fantasy, somewhere both in the world yet above it. And its importance is shown especially in the book of Genesis, where two things become the replacement for it: first, Noah's Ark; later, the land of Israel itself, the Promised Land meant to be a new Eden.
Paradise is radiant. Paradise is important. Paradise is heavenly. But in only one place in Scripture does paradise seem to clearly mean heaven (2 Cor. 12:4). Even there, perhaps things are not quite so clear as they seem. What does Jesus mean by “paradise”? Eden is a strange and beautiful place. But is it the realm of the blessed?
Let's move on to “today.” This word likely has its more natural meaning. That does not mean it lacks mystical meaning. Good Friday was the sixth day of the week, the day of creation when God fashioned man and put him in Eden. Without chasing down the whole string of symbolism, it's likely the week of creation was meant to be seen as the same week as Passover: the day and night are split, presumably evenly (equinox); the earth sprouts, making it spring (vernal equinox); the moon is created as a lamp, so it was likely meant to be read as a full moon. That would make the Sabbath of Genesis the first Sabbath after the first full moon after the vernal equinox, the day that would come to be the Paschal Sabbath. So Holy Week points to the week of creation, and Good Friday, when Pilate cries out, “Behold, man!” (John 19:5), corresponds to the day when God set man in Eden and saw that it was very good (Gen 1:31). So that little word “today” resonates.
But what makes Eden special? Was it the trees? The rivers? The blossoming flowers and sweet fruit? No. Eden was special because it was the Garden of God. Eden was special because it was where God walked (Gen 3:8). And so we turn to the phrase that draws the least attention to itself, but which has the greatest importance: “with me.”
There's a rabbinic tradition that the Song of Songs was read at Passover. It's unclear if that stretched back to Jesus’ day. But the symbolism is powerful. Passover is when God betrothed Israel. Good Friday is when Christ wed the Church (Eph 5:21–33). The lovers of the Song meet in an idyllic garden which all but screams that it is the Garden, and is called a paradise (Song 4:9–16). Paradise is the place where God meets his people. The measure of its bliss is ultimately not found in the breezes and bowers. The measure of its bliss is the presence of God.
With me. With me. Today, you will be with me in Paradise. Paradise is not the heart of the promise. The presence of Christ is. As St. Ambrose says in his commentary on this passage in his Exposition of the Gospel of Luke, “For life is to be with Christ, for where Christ is, there is the Kingdom.” The Garden of God is wherever God walks.
That doesn't mean the question of location is dissolved. Literally, Jesus was likely calling the Limbo of the Fathers “paradise.” Perhaps it actually was. Eden was taken from this earth, and we don’t know where God placed it. Perhaps it was lodged in Sheol so that the saints might there await their Lord. The question of location is not dissolved. But it is relativized. The Garden of God is wherever God walks. With me. With me. With me.
The Thief was crucified with him. The Thief would depart with him. The Thief would reign with him. And whether it be the crucifix of Good Friday, the Sheol of Holy Saturday, or the heavenly glory of Easter Sunday, the essential thing remains this: the penitent thief was with his saving Lord. The Garden of God is wherever God walks.