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On Hellfire and Cosmic Freedom (or, Does Everyone Go to Heaven?)
Rob Long is in trouble. Those are his words, not mine.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, listen to the latest GLOP podcast, in which Rob fesses up to being a universalist. Universalism, for those who don’t know, is the belief that everyone goes to Heaven. In Rob’s view, the next life is going to be one big happy reunion, and we’re all invited. (Of course he is free to clarify if that’s not quite what he thinks.)
So, this is the point where I confirm all your worst suspicions about academics and their pointy-headed silliness. When I was in graduate school, I took a seminar on the problem of evil (“how could an all-powerful and all-loving God have created a world with evil in it?”). That might sound pretty specific as the topic for a whole class, but it got better (or worse). As it turned out, almost the whole seminar was dedicated to fleshing out contemporary arguments in favor of universalism.
The bottom line is that I spent a whole semester studying modern arguments for the proposition that all human beings will eventually go to heaven. No doubt your tax dollars sponsored it in one way or another. But I digress.
I went into this seminar half looking to be convinced that universalism was reasonable, and consistent with traditional Christianity. Most of the authors we read (Eleonore Stump, Marilyn McCord Adams, John Hick) regard themselves as members of one or another mainline Christian group, and I was somewhat hopeful they would persuade me that I too could happily rest in the view that all will be saved. I was skeptical, just because Jesus in the Gospels really does seem to indicate that damnation is a real thing. But perhaps these very smart people could find some way to explain that?
I expect my reasons for favoring universalism were similar to Rob’s. It’s so unpleasant to think of anyone ending up damned, and why would God allow that if he loves us? Anyway, universalism seems like such a nice, neat answer to the injustices of life. Some people seem clearly to be better positioned to become upright and virtuous, and how is that fair? But if we all end up in the same happy place regardless, it might not matter so much.
Also, I worry quite a bit about myself or my loved ones ending up in Hell. The possibility is just so horrifying; how can I not worry? It’s obviously comforting to let go of that fear on the grounds that hey! Life is an everybody-gets-a-prize sort of activity. Don’t sweat it.
I promise not to put you to sleep with all the pedantic details of my semester studying universalism. I’ll just give you the very big picture, which is that these smart modern thinkers really did convince me … to hate universalism. Hate. By the end of the semester I had concluded that it was an utterly contemptible view, and I have never changed that position. Sadly, that means that I worry about Hell even more now than I did previously. Ah, grad school!
Why is universalism, not just wrong, but actually repugnant? Not because I relish the thought of bad people in Hell. (I’m the sort of softy who can’t help but wonder whether there might be some kind of out even for Judas Iscariot.) Not because I want to be better than anyone else. (As I’ve already admitted, I’m just praying, literally, that I’ll end up with the sheep.) The issue is one that might even interest our atheist crowd: it comes back to the meaning and purpose of freedom.
One way or another, all universalist theories have to undercut the notion that earthly life is morally consequential. If we’re all going to heaven, it must somehow turn out not to be true that some of us culpably choose the wrong path. Even those who seem utterly closed to character rehabilitation, must be rehabilitated, come Hell or high water. (Oh wait! Not Hell, of course.)
For that to work, we’ll have to conclude that the choices we make in this lifetime don’t actually matter very much. And on some fundamental level, that means a very low level of human freedom. We’ll need to presume that we’re neither morally mature (because only “moral children” are prohibited from making choices for themselves), nor genuinely free (because free people can decide to reject the good).
To put the point more simply: universalism is cosmically infantilizing. It offends me for the same sorts of reasons that the nanny state offends me. Is the Kingdom of Heaven the true nanny state? Please. That can’t be right.
Why do we value freedom? Isn’t it primarily because we want the dignity of a morally consequential existence, where our successes and failures really mean something? In that case, does it make sense for a conservative to hold an eschatological view that essentially undercuts all the things that, in the political sphere, are most precious to conservatives?
Rob, I apologize if these reflections cause you any anxiety about Hell. But trust me, in the long run, fear of hellfire is chicken soup for the conservative soul.
Published in Religion & Philosophy
The Greek word in this passage is Hades, which is the realm of all the dead, not just the wicked. John 20:13 states that “And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell [Hades] delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.” So the interpretation that your priest offered is entirely consistent with the Bible. Christ overcame death so that all men would rise from the grave, which is another way of saying that he stormed the gates of hell.
-E
What is your meaning of damned? When I hear that, I assume eternal separation from God. The just weren’t damned, they were waiting to be set free. I think St. Bernard’s homily in praise of the Virgin Mother as read in the Office of Readings for December 20, explains it in a beautiful, lyrical way. A taste:
I think you are trying to make the distinction between the Latin rite of the Catholic Church and various other rites (ways of celebrating the liturgy). There are many different rites within the Catholic Church, but no Church pre-dated the Catholic Church – it was the one and only Church founded by Christ.
I’ll stick with the identifiably Catholic doctrine that He did not suffer in His descent, nor did He convert or liberate the damned.
Alyssa Pitstick has been a big proponent of this argument and she and Balthasar supporter Edward T. Oakes had a big dust-up on this at First Things. I think a lot of this discussion was had before on Kate’s post on universal salvation?
Hades in the New Testament mirrors the Hebrew word sheol in the Old Testament: both have a dual meaning. But the New Testament writers also used the word gehenna for the hell of the damned, so hades can be used to mean only the hell of the dead fathers (the righteous awaiting release).
We were stuck. He opened the gates of heaven, which was closed from the time of Adam’s sin. If He does not do what He did, we don’t have the opportunity He offers us.
Except it doesn’t quite say that, the Catechism says:
It says they are deprived of the vision of God, but does the fact that they cannot see God mean He is absent? God is everywhere, how could there be a place where God is absent? As Psalm 139 says:
Well, in fact, it does say that:
IV. HELL
1033 We cannot be united with God unless we freely choose to love him. But we cannot love God if we sin gravely against him, against our neighbor or against ourselves: “He who does not love remains in death. Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.”612 Our Lord warns us that we shall be separated from him if we fail to meet the serious needs of the poor and the little ones who are his brethren.613 To die in mortal sin without repenting and accepting God’s merciful love means remaining separated from him for ever by our own free choice. This state of definitive self-exclusion from communion with God and the blessed is called “hell.”
1035 The teaching of the Church affirms the existence of hell and its eternity. Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend into hell, where they suffer the punishments of hell, “eternal fire.”617 The chief punishment of hell is eternal separation from God, in whom alone man can possess the life and happiness for which he was created and for which he longs.
Good point, fair enough, but I don’t think that “separation” can be understood in a physical sense, as a “place” where God is absent, since God is infinite and omnipresent, He is everywhere.
Rather I think the key passage is:
I think “separation” means “self-exclusion from communion.” For example, suppose an atheist accompanies his Catholic wife to Mass one Sunday morning. Physically they are in the same place, they are both physically in the presence of the blessed sacrament, but she is also in communion with God while he is in a (not-yet permanent) state of separation from that communion.
At least that’s what I understand it to mean.
I’ll agree with you that our word “place” doesn’t do justice to heaven or hell. May we remain faithful to find out about the former.
Your understanding of self-exclusion from communion as the separation of hell fits well with a prior entry on heaven:
1024 This perfect life with the Most Holy Trinity – this communion of life and love with the Trinity, with the Virgin Mary, the angels and all the blessed – is called “heaven.” Heaven is the ultimate end and fulfillment of the deepest human longings, the state of supreme, definitive happiness.
I don’t think your analogy holds however, because neither person is in a “definitive” (final) state.
Does that matter? The point of the analogy was to illustrate how someone could be in a state of separation from God without being in a place where God is absent — let alone a place that God cannot enter.
It is, as always, a beautiful analogy, Joseph.
From my understanding, Black Sabbath never intended to be anti-christian. Indeed, at least some members were Catholic. They developed their reputation anyhow because of their dark imagery and confusion with other rock bands who were into the occult, including the similarly named Black Widow who were actual Satanists.
Tom Araya of Slayer is a good example of a Christian musician in a band with lyrics openly hostile to religion and Christianity in particular.
Drummer Pete Sandoval left Morbid Angel since converting. If I remember correctly the band Massacre thanks Jesus in the liner notes of From Beyond. I think they were sincere, though you’d never guess it from their music.
If you are worried about Pascal’s wager, then that is certainly a good enough reason to strive for a righteous life. But, living righteously for the sake of righteousness itself, without regard to reward or punishment in some afterlife, is also a good enough reason. In fact, there are a number of philosophers who would argue that it is an even better reason, because it is not selfishly motivated.
That’s like saying, since virtue is its own reward, you shouldn’t be virtuous because it has a reward.
It’s not at all like saying that. The phrase “virtue is its own reward” means that you feel good about doing the right thing, even if there is nothing in it for you. Doing the right thing in the hope of a heavenly reward is fine with me, but there is a difference.
The phrase virtue is its own reward means just that. There is a reward in a sense, but it naturally obtains from virtuous acts. It isn’t some empty phrase used to convince people to behave. It is literally true.
You don’t just feel good for doing the right thing, you are made good by the act itself. There isn’t ever nothing in it for you, because at a minimum your decisions shape your soul.
If someone jumps in a lake in an attempt to save a drowning person one has to fight through the urge to save one’s self in order to try and save someone else. I’m not sure that “feel good” is the right metaphor about what is happening.
Sure, there are all kinds of psychological and emotional benefits to doing the right thing. Fulfilling self-image, taking pride (the good kind), avoiding shame, etc. But these kinds of gratification are fundamentally different from doing the right thing because there is a cop looking over your shoulder, even if that “cop” is God.
But hey, so long as you do the right thing, I don’t really care why you do it. Actions speak louder than words, and louder than thoughts as well.
Thanks. I did not know this.
Larry3435, you are missing the point, which is something that is to be expected, since you do not believe that there is any such thing as a spiritual dimension to human life.
I’m a bit more hesitant than I used to be about assuming irreligious people are completely missing the point, here.
It seems to me that even us religious folk aren’t very good at disentangling the spiritual from the psychological and emotional, and maybe that entanglement is as it should be. Psyche, after all, isn’t just a made-up PC term designed to let us self-indulgently and “therapeutically” ignore our moral selves. It’s still Greek for soul or spirit.
We who are religious are very attracted to the idea that, if you do the right thing, even if it doesn’t feel good at all, your soul is shaped for the better. And sure, I believe there is truth in that. But it’s also true that the fewer internal rewards you feel for doing the right thing, the harder it is to keep doing the right thing.
If the internal rewards we felt played no role in keeping us motivated, then why the heck would despair and scruples even be counted as sinful? If feeling good about what we do weren’t actually a motivation that mattered, these demotivational states wouldn’t need to be sinful: we could indulge ever-and-ever deeper in despair and scruples without risking less virtuous behavior.
But that’s not how it works. Those who do experience strong internal rewards for doing what they believe to be virtuous are in fact more likely to keep doing it, and to harbor that unquestioned confidence that virtue matters to leading the good life. This goes for the religious as well as the irreligious.
I’m always interested in hearing people tell me what I do and do not believe; especially people who have no idea whatsoever what I believe. Do go on and on about this subject. It is especially entertaining when you present it in the form of a gratuitous ad hominem attack. Maybe you could publish your own poll of what everyone on Ricochet believes, based on your own made-up version of what they believe.
Actually I do know what you mean. I just happen to disagree with it. The early Church, that creation occurring in Jerusalem and its environs, the Church which is one, holy, catholic and apostolic. Same Church. Same Church where the apostles were told to take the good news to everyone. Same Church which found its chief apostle and greatest missionary in Rome where both were condemned to death and killed. So I do know what you mean. I just happen to disagree with it.
Midget Faded Rattlesnake: #141 “Those who do experience strong internal rewards for doing what they believe to be virtuous are in fact more likely to keep doing it, and to harbor that unquestioned confidence that virtue matters to leading the good life. This goes for the religious as well as the irreligious.”
In Mother Teresa’s writings, she noted that consolation disappeared from her horizon. She did, however, continue doing what she knew was right because that had been given to her, sans emotional rewards. However she did look for the Lord, even as He withheld Himself from her view.
Love endures.
No question that dark nights of the soul can make saints. But dark nights also seem to break more ordinary people. I wish it weren’t true – that deep stretches of disconsolate darkness where nothing rewards, and even God’s least pity seems absent, were always a sign of impending sainthood. But they’re not.
If they were, there would probably be a lot more mentally-ill saints, since mental illness is hella good at screwing with a functional system of internal rewards. Of course we should happy when people afflicted like this do manage to persevere and come out the other side with their virtue and sanity intact, and of course we rightly admire these persevering folk as blessed by some special strength or grace. But to notice only those whose trials make them stronger is a form of survivorship bias.
A great saint’s period of disorientation naturally seems blessed in retrospect. The disorientation of a homeless man, muttering schizophrenic maunderings into his Thunderbird, may not be so blessed.
I suspect, though cannot prove, that most people, when they speak of doing without the emotional rewards of virtue, don’t mean doing without those rewards 100%. Sure, getting no joy out of a virtuous deed is common enough. But even when virtue is cheerless, many of us are still able to sense a sort of grim satisfaction that comes with doing the right thing despite getting no joy out of it – and that, too, is an emotional reward. To not get even that out of persevering in virtue – how many of us can be 100% sure that has happened to us, and if it has, that it had a salutary effect?
Wow, just realized #145 is a bit dark for Christmas Day. Sorry about that. Still, it is honest.
That’s OK.
It was a tough year.
So,
Is there a spiritual dimension to human life ?
There is to mine. You’ll have to decide for yourself about yours.
Merry Christmas, Larry3435. And, now I am curious about your spiritual position.
You have pushed back against the existence of G-d, arguing along with the Atheists, but then you have said you are agnostic and not Atheist. I think I recall that you are Jewish? I have acquaintance with some Jews who are functionally Deist, but I don’t think you would agree much with them. So, do you fall in with Susan the Buju? I would like to hear what your thoughts are.