There is a great gulf fixed. — Literally, a chasm, the opening or gaping of the earth. The scene brought before us is like one of the pictures of Dante’s Commedia — steep rocks and a deep gorge, and on one side the flames that burn and do not consume, and on the other, the fair garden of Paradise and the kingly palace, and the banquet at which Abraham presides. And those that are bearing the penalty, or reaping the reward, of their life are within sight and hearing of each other, and hold conversation and debate. It is obvious that no single detail of such a description can be pressed as a literal representation of the unseen world. What was wanted for the purpose of the parable was the dramatic and pictorial vividness which impresses itself on the minds and hearts of men, and this could not otherwise be gained.
So that they which would pass from hence... — So far as we may draw any inference from such a detail as this, it suggests the thought that the blessed look with pity and compassion on those who are in the penal fires, and would fain help them if they could. They that wish to pass are spoken of in tones which present a striking contrast to the vindictive exultation that has sometimes shown itself in Christian writers, such, e.g., as Tertullian (de Spectac. c. 30), and Milton (Reformation in England, ad fin.). A further lesson is, of course, implied, which strikes at the root of the specifically Romish theory of Purgatory and Indulgences — viz., that the wish is fruitless, that no interposition of the saints avails beyond the grave. The thought of their intercession that the discipline may do its appointed work is, indeed, not absolutely excluded, but that work must continue as long as God wills, i.e., till it attains its end.