God loves you and calls you according to his purposes

Romans 8:28-30

Once again, this week, I want to focus on the so-called "epistle reading." And, once again, I do so for two reasons. First, this Gospel reading requires more work than I want to do. Second, being likely the most important book of the New Testament, apart from the Gospels, Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans is worthy of our attention.

What follows is clearly not a homily or even a sermon. It is a short and necessarily overly simplified, at least in some aspects, theological reflection.

In the Sunday lectionary for Ordinary Time, the Church seeks especially to harmonize the Old Testament, or first, reading with the Gospel. This sometimes has the effect of the second, or epistle, reading standing off in the corner. While this is not always the case, during the long stretch of Ordinary Time when we read semi-continuously through whichever synoptic Gospel (i.e., Matthew, Mark, Luke) we're reading that year (this year, Matthew), it is usually how it works out.

Today, I am not even going to look at the entire passage from Romans, which consists of just 3 verses. I'm only going to consider verse 28. It is a verse that gets cited a lot and not always in the best way. It often becomes a platitude, an unhelpful dismissal.

It's easy to forget the revelatory nature of Protestant theologian Karl Barth's concept of universal election. Coming from a reformed and Calvinistic theological perspective, Barth was very familiar with the concept that Paul sets forth in this passage: predestination.

Hyper-Calvinism espouses a doctrine usually denoted as "double predestination." This refers to the belief that God predestines some for salvation and others to damnation. It is a form of theological determinism, one in which freedom, in the end, plays no part. This hearkens back to the Old Testament connundrum about the nature of Israel's chosenness.

For Catholics, this became apparent when the current typical edition of the Missale Romanum (editio typica tertia), promulgated in 2002, began to be translated into the vernacular languages. The third English edition of the Roman Missal came into use in 2011. Yes, it took nine years to translate this vitally important sacred text!

How this issue became visible was through a directive issued by Pope Benedict XVI in 2006, roughly halfway through the translation process, that qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum, is accurately translated from Latin and from the Greek of the biblical text as "which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins." Pro multis in Latin accurately translates as "for many" in English.

The above words constitute part of the institution narrative for the various Eucharistic Prayers. With these words, the Lord refers to his Precious Blood poured out for our salvation. In the previous edition of the English translation of the Roman Missal, pro multis was translated as "for all."

This brings us back to Barth's universal election. While it's died down a little, over the past several years there has been widespread discussion about Christian universalism. Universalism is the idea that, in the end, all will be saved. I don't believe any one will be saved against his will. It seems odd to me to replace one deterministic idea with another that also holds that freedom plays no role. Even so, I realize human freedom is not absolute nor is it unconditioned- a discussion for another day. At the end, no one will be forced to love Big Brother (i.e., God).

Universal election basically insists that all are called to salvation. Yet perhaps not everyone will heed God's call, his invitation. This brings me, inevitably, to Von Balthasar's controversial conclusion (Hans Urs had many such), set forth in his work Dare We Hope That All Men be Saved?: With a Short Discourse on Hell, that while Catholics are dogmatically committed to believe in hell, we should hope and pray that it is empty.

One could point to the witness of the mystical experiences of many saints who insist, based on their private revelations (which need not be held de fide), that hell is not empty. Of course, Dante's Inferno still informs our religious imagination about what hell might be like. C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce places before the reader an alternate version. As for me, I content to let God be the Judge.

This brings me to a consideration of Romans 8:28. Let's take this text in reverse order. All that I wrote above is in the service of showing that you are called according to God's purpose. God's purpose, to quote N.T. Wright, "is the coming together of heaven and earth." Stated differently, God's purpose is to reconcile everyone and everything to himself in Christ. God's cosmic purpose includes you!

The question, therefore, is not "Does God love me?" God loves you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Instead, the question is always "Do I love God?" Being real, even those of us who love God don't love him as we ought or as much as we should. Yet, I really do love God, even if rarely with my entire being. This manifests in my failure to love my neighbor as much as I love myself.

Let's face it, as Paul is surely alluding to here, God's love, his care, his concern tend to be called into question when we experience suffering, hardships, setbacks, disappointments, attacks, etc. If you're anything like me (I pray that you are not), most of the time I chafe at the idea that difficulties are for my good. The idea, taken from what he dubbed "the military school of life," that "what does not kill me makes me stronger" originates from Nietzsche, that great opponent of Christianity, (Friedrich Nietzsche Twilight of the Idols. Aphorism #8. Trans. Anthony M. Ludovici).

Getting back to Christ shedding his blood for you, what kills you, helps you die to self, is a death worth dying. It was Nietzsche who also noted, “only where there are graves are there resurrections" (Thus Spoke Zarathustra. XXIV. Second Part, “The Priests.” Trans. Thomas Common).

What matters is that Christ is with you in the violent storm. He walks beside you through the valley of the shadow of death. Like Lazarus, he calls you forth from the tomb.

Since I've invoked Eucharistic Prayers, I'll end with this from Eucharistic Prayer for Use in Masses for Various Needs III (while an inelegant title, it's one my pastor uses a lot and one that resonates deeply with me, corresponding to my heart through my experience)

You are indeed Holy and to be glorified, O God,
who love the human race
and who always walk with us on the journey of life

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (All Souls)

Readings: Wisdom 3:1-9; Psalm 23:1-6; Romans 5:5-11; John 6:37-40

“All Souls” is the shorthand designation for today’s observance. Its actual name is The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed. Yesterday’s solemnity of All Saints is our annual celebration of what has traditionally been called “the Church triumphant.” This commemoration is done on behalf of “the Church penitent,” that is, the souls in purgatory.

Two ways in which our Catholic faith can said to be in danger of being “protestantized” in our culture is the demise of the cult of the saints and gradual disappearance of purgatory. Purgatory is then replaced with either de facto universalism, which holds that everyone who is “a pretty good” person goes to heaven or by a simple binary: heaven or hell, determined immediately at death.

But purgatory, along with hell, remain very real parts of the Catholic faith. While it is God who judges, not us, Tradition teaches that our default position is that we can and should be of some assistance to virtually all our beloved dead. Hence, in every Mass, we pray for the dead.

In the seventh (of eight) part of the Eucharistic Prayer, a part simply called in English “Intercessions,” we pray for the dead. For example, in the four Eucharistic Prayers for Various Needs we pray:

Remember our brothers and sisters…, who have fallen asleep in the peace of your Christ, and all the dead, whose faith you alone have known. Admit them to rejoice in the light of your face, and in the resurrection give them the fullness of life¹

The format of the Universal Prayer, commonly called “The Prayers of the Faithful,” includes a petition or petitions for the dead. The very fact that we pray for the dead indicates that some, probably many, of our dearly departed family and friends benefit from our prayers. Our prayers assist them as they make their way into God’s holy presence.

All Hallows Eve is known among some as Reformation Day-commemorating Martin Luther’s proclamation of his famous (or infamous) 99 Theses. Initially and for several years afterwards, apart from their manifest abuse, which he rightly protested, Luther had no issue with indulgences per se. Indulgences have not been abolished by the Church, even now.

On the contrary, Indulgences are still to be sought both for us and for the dead. We are coming to the end of a Jubilee Year. During each Jubilee year there is the possibility of obtaining a Jubilee indulgence.

In his Bull of Indiction for this year’s Jubilee, promulgated 9 May 2024, Pope Francis, in addition to allowing for the possibility of obtaining a plenary indulgence, noted “The Jubilee indulgence, thanks to the power of prayer, is intended in a particular way for those who have gone before us, so that they may obtain full mercy.”²

When we confess our sins and express true contrition, have our sins absolved, and make satisfaction by completing the penance given, the eternal punishment for our sins is removed. But the temporal punishments remain. In his Apostolic Constitution Indulgentarium Doctrina, promulgated on New Year’s Day 1967, a little more than a year after the close of the Second Vatican Council, Pope Saint Paul VI explained temporal punishment:

These punishments are imposed by the just and merciful judgment of God for the purification of souls, the defense of the sanctity of the moral order and the restoration of the glory of God to its full majesty. Every sin in fact causes a perturbation in the universal order established by God in His ineffable wisdom and infinite charity, and the destruction of immense values with respect to the sinner himself and to the human community³

Mother Church grants indulgences for performing good deeds. These good deeds help God in the divine mission of setting the world aright. Indulgences can be partial or sometimes plenary, meaning full or complete.

To be granted any indulgence, in addition to making the “indulgent” act, one must make a confession and receive communion. To gain a plenary indulgence, one must also say a prayer for the intention of the Pope (Pope Leo’s prayer intention for November is for those who struggle with suicidal thoughts) and have no attachment to sin, even venial sin. In addition to doing the good deed, the conditions for a partial indulgence are confession and communion.

From 1-8 November, you can gain a plenary indulgence that is only applicable to the souls in purgatory by meeting the above conditions and then visiting a cemetery. You must visit the cemetery within a few days of your confession and communion.

In a catechesis on Saint Catherine of Genoa, whose best-known spiritual work is her Treatise on Purgatory, Pope Benedict XVI noted that Catherine “did not see purgatory as a scene in the bowels of the earth.” Rather, for her purgatory is “an interior fire.” From the instant of her conversion, “Catherine suddenly became aware of God’s goodness, of the infinite distance of her own life from this goodness and of a burning fire within her. And this is the fire that purifies, the interior fire of purgatory.”⁴ This is nothing other than the fire of divine love.

Finally, Pope Benedict insisted that Saint Catherine’s Treatise “reminds us of a fundamental truth of faith that becomes for us an invitation to pray for the deceased so that they may attain the beatific vision of God in the Communion of Saints.”⁵

“Chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed,” we heard in our reading from the Book of Wisdom, along with “As gold in the furnace, he proved them,” and “In the time of their visitation they shall shine, and shall dart about as sparks through stubble.”⁶ These also tell of the purifying fire of divine love. As Sacred Scripture reveals: “our God is a consuming fire.”⁷

Dear friends, along with veneration of the saints and purgatory, praying for the dead and seeking indulgences remain vital parts of Catholic faith and practice. Christ has given us these means of grace through His Church to use for ourselves and for the sanctification of our beloved dead. Today’s Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed provides a good starting point to live our faith more fully.

As the title for Pope Francis’ Bull of Indiction for this year’s Jubilee, taken from our reading from Romans, declares: Spes non confundit- “Hope does not disappoint.”⁸

---

1 Roman Missal. Eucharistic Prayers For Various Needs I-IV For Reconciliation II, sec 7.^↩
2 Pope Francis. Bull of Indiction of the Ordinary Jubilee of the Year 2025 [Spes Non Confundit], sec. 22.^↩
3 Pope Paul VI. Apostolic Constitution Indulgentarium Doctrina, sec. 2.^↩
4 Pope Benedict XVI. General Audience: Saint Catherine of Genoa, 12 January 2011.^↩
5 Ibid.^↩
6 Wisdom 3:5-7.^↩
7 Hebrews 12:29.^↩
8 Romans 5:5..^↩

Closing the chasm between heaven and hell

Readings: Amos 6:1a.4-7; Psalm 146:7-10; 1 Timothy 6:11-16; Luke 16:19-31

Jesus Christ, as our reading from 1 Timothy so directly states, is "the King of kings and Lord of lords" (1 Tim 6:15). Hence, it is Christ who bridges the infinite chasm between heaven and earth, as Saint Catherine of Siena mystically explained (Dialogues IV. III. VIII). It is also Christ who can bridge the chasm between heaven and hell. It should make a big difference in each Christian's life that someone has, indeed, risen from the dead, namely Christ the Lord.

You can wait for a sign, hope for the visit of a ghost, like the rich man's request for his brothers, or like the ghosts mercifully sent to Ebeneezer Scrooge, but the Sign of Jonah should be sufficient for us (Luke 11:29-32). The end of this pericope points towards Christ's resurrection. In a way similar to that of the rich man's five brothers, not only can you listen to and heed the words of Christ, you can believe He is risen of the dead. Proof of that belief is repentance.

Unlike the parable of the Good Samaritan, by all indications, in today's parable, Lazarus and rich man are both Jews. Hence, the bosom of Abraham and Abraham's appeal to Moses and the prophets. By contrast, in the story of the Good Samaritan, the man who was robbed, beaten, and left for dead, seems to be Jewish, a man making his way to the holy city of Jerusalem for religious observance (See Luke 10:29-37). Like the rich man in today's Gospel, it was the beaten man's fellow Israelites who didn't simply fail to help him but actively avoided and evaded him.

It is the Good Samaritan who makes himself a neighbor. And so, it is with reference to the Good Samaritan that the Lord instructs His followers to "Go and do likewise" (Luke 10:37). The rich man was indifferent to Lazarus. Just as doubt is not the opposite of faith, hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is the opposite of love. Like love, hate requires some passion. Indifference requires nothing. It is nothing. Indifference to the suffering of another is a form of nihilism. Like many Gospel readings taken from Luke in this part of the Sunday lectionary for Year C, this one easily sends the preacher off in search of a loophole or an escape hatch.

The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, by Heinrich Aldegrever, 1554

A major theme of Pope Francis' pontificate was our need to counter indifference by not being indifferent. In an excerpt from Pope Francis' homily given at a Mass in Saint Peter's Square in the summer of 2014, the Gospel for which was Matthew 11:25-30, is more cogruent with today's Gospel reading:

This invitation of Jesus reaches to our day, and extends to the many brothers and sisters oppressed by life’s precarious conditions, by existential and difficult situations and at times lacking valid points of reference. In the poorest countries, but also on the outskirts of the richest countries, there are so many weary people, worn out under the unbearable weight of neglect and indifference. Indifference: human indifference causes the needy so much pain! And worse, the indifference of Christians!

With everything going on right now, it is urgent that we overcome our indifference. Empathy is not toxic! But lack of empathy, which is indifference, is deadly. If we take our bearings from Christ, it is deadly in more ways than one. By this I don't mean engaging in more social media hacktivism.

It seems that we put far more emphasis on sins of commission than on sins of omission. Even when it comes to sins of commission, it is important to distinguish between sins of strength and those of weakness. God is very merciful when it comes to sins of weakness but, as scripture teaches, quite harsh when it comes to sins of strength, be they sins of omission or commission.

Both hate and indifference are potentially damnable. As a Roman Catholic, I believe in hell. I don't believe that hell is empty. As far as who might be damned, God decides. Between the horns of the false dilemma- between a slack universalism and the straw of man of "infernalism"- there is a lot of space. As Jesus often intimated, it probably won't be those who you think that will be damned, that is, the prostitutes, tax collectors, etc., but perhaps more "respectable" people.

In any case, the rich man had many opportunities, even daily opportunities it seems, to close the chasm between himself and Lazarus. He not only chose not to but may have only been vaguely aware of Lazarus' existence. The weak, sore ridden, hungry man, whose sores the dogs licked, who sat outside his gate day after day was of no interest to him. He seemingly wore fine clothes and dined sumptuously each day with a trouble-free conscience. One prophet to whom he could've listened was Amos, who declared "Woe to the complacent in Zion!" (Amos 6:1).

Some streams flowing from the Lord's Baptism

At least for Roman Catholics in the United States, today's observance of the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord brings the Christmas season to an end. Hence, tomorrow is Monday of the First Week in Ordinary Time. This period of Ordinary Time extends to Ash Wednesday, which observance ushers in the season of Lent.

I probably make too big a deal about my revulsion (not too strong a word) of the secular season that tends to obliterate, not just Advent, but also Christmas as a season. Once it arrives, however, I love the season of Christmas. This year, even more than in recent years, I am sorry to see the season go. Time moves inexorably forward. Like most people, I suppose, I feel the pull of time's current more acutely as I grow older.

Today, I welcome the chance to reflect on this feast in a free form kind of way. What follows is a jumble of the kinds of generative ideas I have when I begin to think about what I might say when preaching the readings for a particular Sunday. Of course, these streams can't all be pursued when preaching. But it's nice to be able provide a few sketches.

Speculating on why it is that Jesus accepted baptism at the hands of John the Baptist, Archbishop Fulton Sheen suggested that rather than being cleansed from sin, as the sacrament of baptism would come to signify, symbolize, and ex opere operato achieve, that by entering the water and being baptized, the Lord Jesus began His ministry of taking our sins upon Himself. It is an interesting thought, kind of like a negative image of baptism. The first verse of the hymn for the Office of Readings for today's feast in the 4-volume edition I am using, relates to this idea:

When Jesus comes to be baptized,
He leaves the hidden years behind,
The years of safety and of peace,
To bear the sins of all mankind.

An older theological idea has it that by His baptism, Jesus sanctified the waters, which in the ancient world and even to some extent now, were something to be feared. Seafaring, as the life of Saint Paul shows, was a dangerous business!

In the second reading for the Office of Readings, Saint Gregory Nazianzus, in a sermon on the Lord's Baptism, pulls these strands together: "certainly [Jesus] comes [to John to be baptized] to bury sinful humanity in the waters. He comes to sanctify the Jordan for our sake and in readiness for us; he who is spirit and flesh comes to begin a new creation through the Spirit and water."

Water is both life-giving and life-threatening. On the one hand, without water you die and sooner than you will perish for lack of food. On the other, water can be and sometimes is terribly destructive. Israel's exodus through the Red Sea, which features prominently in the blessing of baptismal water, shows us this.

It stands to reason that being the Only Begotten Son of the Father, Jesus neither needed to reborn through baptism nor have any sin washed away. Taking a sacramental view, which is really to take a Christian view, it seems far too trite to simply say He did it to set a good example for us. Something that is easy to overlook is that with the appearance of the Holy Spirit and voice of the Father confirming Jesus as His Son, the sacrament of confirmation is also foreshadowed.

Baptism of Christ, David Zelenka, 2005

Another thing easy to overlook in Saint Luke's account is that after His baptism by John in the River Jordan, Jesus began to pray. It seems that, according to Luke, the Lord's experience of the Holy Spirit descending like a dove and hearing the Father's confirmation of His identity were the results of His prayer. Maybe the point here is that being made children of God through baptism, like Jesus, we can now to pray to God as our Father.

Being Year C of the three year Sunday lectionary, during which the Church focuses on the Gospel According to Saint Luke, we have two readings from Luke. You see, the same inspired author composed both Luke's Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles. The passage from Acts that serves as today's second reading is part of a section often called "the Pentecost of the Gentiles."

Our reading from Acts consits of a homily given by Saint Peter in the house of the Roman centurion Cornelius, who had come to faith in Christ and then called for Peter. These words are the result of a conversion Peter had in coming to Cornelius. Peter needed to grasp that the Gospel is for everyone, Jew and Gentile alike. Of course, as we know, even after this, Peter continued to be a bit wishy-washy, uncharitably one might say "two-faced," about this matter. Something for which Saint Paul upbraided him (see Galatians 2:11-14).

Nonetheless, as a result of Peter's preaching on this occasion, the Holy Spirit descended on the members of Cornelius' household and they were baptized.The Gospel of Jesus Christ is universal, it's for everyone, no exceptions. While this kind of universalism is common to us, it was pretty radical in the ancient Mediterranean world and beyond.

It is important to grasp that baptism, to which confirmation is very closely linked, is the fundamental sacrament of Christian life. Baptism, confirmation, Eucharist are the sacraments of Christian initiation. Reception of these fully incorporates a person into Christ, making her/him members of Christ's Body, the Church.

Contrary to what many seem to believe and assert, the sacrament of orders (you can only call it "holy" orders when you refer to matrimony and "holy matrimony") is not the premier sacrament. Along with matrimony, orders is what Owen Cummings has called a "diaconal" sacrament, that is, a sacrament at the service of communion, as we learn in basic catechesis.

Pope Francis has been very wise in warning us against the tendency to want to "clericalize" the Church. It isn't that the Church needs to be "de-clericalized." Rather, the balance envisioned by the Second Vatican Council as set forth in Lumen Gentium and Gaudium et Spes needs to continue being sought after and more fully realized. Whatever you may think about synodality either in principle or execution (I have mixed feelings about both), this is really its goal.

Reflecting on one's own baptism, its purpose, its meaning, its rights, its responsibilities seems a very good way to enter back into Ordinary Time and, even now, a New Year. In this way the stream of time and eternity can flow into each other in and through you.

"If you choose not to decide/You still have made a choice"

Among the deep philosophical questions human beings perennially ask there is perhaps no question more vexing than that of free will. I'd say that in our day as we discover more and more about human neural functioning we understand more and more those factors that condition whatever free will we might have. These factors are both biological and developmental. To use language more familiar to people my age and older, we learn more and more about the influences of both "nature" and "nurture."

One thing that is for certain is that any free will we possess is neither unconditioned nor absolute, as many still mistakenly believe it is. On the other hand, by becoming aware of certain limitations, we can to some extent "re-program" our brains, thus making ourselves more free. But we will never, at least not during our mortal existence, be free in an absolute sense. Our choices are conditioned. I can hold that even as I affirm these lyrics by late, great Bob Marley: "none but ourselves can free our minds."

As a Christian free will, or lack thereof, is a major factor in considering the overarching issue of salvation. While I have not yet read David Bentley Hart's book on Christian universalism, That All Shall Be Saved: Heaven, Hell, and Universal Salvation, I've read enough reviews and commentary on it to know that he wisely deals with the issue of free will at a rather deep philosophical level. Frankly, anything written about the last things that doesn't treat free will extensively is woefully incomplete.

The opposite of unconditioned/absolute free will is determinism. Hard determinism holds that while you may have the illusion of free will, every choice you make is the one you could not help but make. Determinism can be set forth on a naturalistic basis (i.e., if you knew the trajectory of all the quarks at the Big Bang, you would know everything that happened in the universe until its end and know that it could not happen in any other way).

Determinism can also have a theological basis: everything that happens is God's will and foreordained to happen that way it happened. Like most sensible people, I hold that the truth is in media res, that is, somewhere between these two extreme viewpoints. More optimistically, I hold that the more you become aware of what limits your choices, the freer your choices become within those given limits. And so, unsurprisingly, I affirm Jesus's insistence that "the truth will set you free" (John 8:32).

What free will impacts, of course, are your choices. This is huge. Fundamentally, your life consists of a series of choices and the consequences of those choices. As a result, how your life turns out at any point in time is determined by the consequences of choices. Now, some choices that impact the consequences of your life were not made by you and even precede you. For example, you can't be said to have chosen to exist. Who knows, maybe the act by which you were conceived was not intended to be fruitful!? But here you are nonetheless! Some choices are made by your refusal to decide.

One example of the kind of limits imposed by "nature," so-called, has to do with sexuality. This forces me to once again bring up the sensitive subject of homosexuality. It has become very evident that the vast majority of people who are homosexual have no choice in the matter. For whatever reason(s), they just are predominantly or exclusively attracted to other people of their own sex- not all members of their sex, as homophobic people sometimes assert, no more than a heterosexual person is attracted to all members of the opposite sex.

While I am always loath to make this comparison because I don't like equating people with non-human species and I think there's been enough offensive trash written about homosexuals comparing their sexual desires and behaviors to other unrelated deviant sexual practices (i.e., incest, pedophilia, bestiality), this phenomenon is observable among most species of non-human mammals. This is to observe nothing more than homosexuality seems to be a naturally occurring phenomenon. This is why the Church no longer views being homosexual as sinful. In other words, it is okay to be gay.

Given the largely (perhaps not exclusively) non-voluntary nature of homosexuality, how can it be okay to be homosexual but not act like a homosexual? This gets back to the contradiction inherent in separating being from act with regard to homosexuals. Not only does it not make sense, it is rather cruel. Now, what the status of committed same-sex relationships vis-à-vis traditional marriage is remains an important question. I think Durham University theologian Robert Song has provided a great starting point for this discussion in his book A Covenant Calling: Towards a Theology of Same-Sex Relationships.

Making "big" choices always entails a risk. A lot of indecision results from understanding the risks of a particular choice and shrinking back from making the gamble because you fear you will lose. Lest I sound too fatalistic, I think for many of these "big" choices one can do "risk mitigation." By "risk mitigation," I mean understanding the risks and taking positive steps to reduce them even as you realize you don't control all the factors. Not controlling all the factors requires assessing these factors and knowing what they are to the extent you can. This is where prayer, faith, seeking the help and advice of others who have traveled a similar path come into play.

In this New Year, my morning spiritual reading, which I do immediately following Morning Prayer, is Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard. It is proving to be a fantastic compendium of Kirkegaard's works. This brilliant compendium was compiled and edited by Charles E. Moore.

The second piece found in Provocations, taken from Kierkegaard's work Either/Or, Moore chose a section in which Søren Kirkegaard discusses the primacy of making a choice. Kierkegaard begins this passage by extolling what a "glorious" thing it is to be able to make choices. He goes on to insist that making a choice "is the pearl of great price... not intended to be buried and hidden away" (, 9). Refusing to make choices, according to Kierkegaard is how you remain a slave, an unfree person. Of course, what the Dane is discussing in his intense manner is the ultimate choice: choosing God contra the world. It is of the essence of his Existentialism, the philosophy whose "father" Kierkegaard is often reckoned to be, that he emphasizes integrity and authenticity.

In any case, an issue so multi-faceted, complex, and deep as free will is not going to be dealt with in a blog post. Nonetheless, I felt like addressing this morning.

Neil Peart, one of the best, if not the very best, rock n' roll drummers ever, died last week at age 67 from brain cancer. For those who do not know, Peart was the drummer for the band RUSH. The first concert I ever attended was a RUSH concert while they were touring to support their album Signals. It is an experience very much lodged in my memory. Since I have long been a RUSH fan, it seems fitting that this week's traditio be a RUSH song. It just so happens "Free Will" is a song off their Permanent Waves album. Without a doubt, of the many great albums RUSH recorded, Permanent Waves is my favorite, not far and away my favorite (I cherish Moving Pictures and Signals very highly).

A string of thoughts on perplexing matters

I am always thinking and re-thinking matters. Like everyone else, trying, in my own limited way, to make sense of the world in order to live in it in a constructive way and, if I many be so bold, attempt to be happy while doing what I understand to be God's will. I feel that what I wrote about mercy (see "Let Mercy Lead"), while I reaffirm all of it, needs something else to balance it. It seems to me that one of the things our society clearly lacks is the ability to appropriately respond to evil. For one thing, as with the Orlando shootings, instead of pinning blame on the murderer, who was apparently about as messed up as a person can be, "conservative' Christians, of which he was not one by a long shot, bore the brunt of the blame in the aftermath. It's often the case that we simply fail to recognize evil, or refuse to call it what is (i.e., "jihadist Islam"- a form of violent Islamism that cannot be equated with the whole of Islam, but must be identified in order to be combated), lest we label anyone as being evil in the belief that evil is as evil does.

All of this hinders the proclamation of the Gospel. Increasingly it is difficult to denounce sin and invite people to repent. This ties back to something I wrote in my post on mercy: When people come realize how messed up they are and realize that they can't fix themselves, even if a person is resolved to be better, to do better, to live better, due to their skepticism about there being a merciful Savior who bore the weight of their sins and took away the eternal punishment due their sin, they still feel the guilt for past offenses, which often hinders their ability to turn over a new leaf. Due to this, they're skeptical that they can cooperate with what God is doing through Christ in setting world aright through penance, reparations, and seeking indulgences, etc.

It’s also easy to take to some form of activism. Let’s be honest, for most of us, our activism usually consists of several posts on social media, or some over-the-top, frustration-driven comments to family, friends, or co-workers and/or a blog post. If you follow the logic that doing anything is better than doing nothing, then activism of some kind is bound to follow. Is this to say we shouldn’t be concerned about justice? No! We should be very concerned with justice and with peace, as well as liberty. These concerns may lead us to speak up and speak out. We should do so in a calm, clear, and charitable way. But activism in and of itself usually proves futile and can still leave us feeling powerless and exposed, if not much more angry. Anger, while sometimes justified, is not a solution to anything at the end of day. All too easily, anger leads to hate and hate, as we see far too often, can lead to violence. We need avoid the risk of perpetuating the cycle.

One of the reasons I dedicated so many blog posts last year on universalism (see "Seeking clarity about heaven and hell", "What does the Church teach about hell?", and "One More Thought on Universalism") is that presumption-driven universalism is contrary to the Gospel. When the Church fails to properly form consciences there will be judgment, which is why James says everyone should not aspire to be a teacher (James 3:1). While I think they overdo God's judgment sometimes, I continue to read a number of Reformed blogs, like Erik Raymond's Ordinary Pastor. It's interesting to note that Raymond was raised Catholic in Massachusetts. After converting to Reformed Protestantism while serving in the Air Force, he now pastors a Reformed church he helped to plant in Omaha, Emmaus Bible Church. I am apply a lot of what Erik writes.

I also like Rosaria Butterfield, who was also raised rather devoutly Catholic. Sadly, according to her autobiographical The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, she bailed on the Church as a teenager when, shortly after her confirmation, she learned one of her best friends was having sex with one of the priests at their parish. After a number of years as a well-respected post-modern, feminist academic and living openly as lesbian, she, too, converted to Reformed Protestantism. It was Rosaria who reminded me of the importance of remaining immersed in Scripture. While the so-called young, reformed, and restless come in for a lot of criticism on a number of things, when it comes to politics, while not remaining silent on important, fundamental matters, like most life issues and even race relations, they don't let themselves bog down, they seem to grasp that politics are provisional. Instead, they tend to stick with preaching the Gospel as they understand it.

In all honesty, if I was a slightly less well-educated Catholic and not so suspicious about serious Calvinism's narrow conception of God's election, I sometimes think I could easily slip over to that side. In the end, I am more Lutheran than Calvinist. I don't find whatever Lutheran tendencies I have at odds with being Catholic. Like Giussani, being Catholic for me is the way I maintain the tension between Orthodoxy and Protestantism. My Lutheranism begins with a healthy assessment of my status before God and a recognition of the evil in my own heart, even after baptism I remain simul justus et peccator. But I reject forensic justification and, as a result, I have a different view of how God sanctifies us.

While it is never my place to judge the state of another person's soul, it is important for us all to remember that we will answer for ourselves someday. What we do with our lives matters. But fear of judgment should not be what drives us. Rather, we should be driven by love of God and neighbor. While God is mercy, he is also justice. We're not sinners in the hand of an angry God, we're sinners in the hand of a merciful and wholly just God. These days I find myself wondering what saints, what signs and wonders, God will send to remind us of this. All of this reminds me of how well C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien dealt with these matters in their imaginative writings. But this is likely due to the fact I am currently reading Joseph Loconte's A Hobbit, a Wardrobe and a Great War, a book I recommend highly.

Oddly enough, Lonconte, too, is another person who slowly rejected the Catholicism in which he was born and raised and has become a committed Protestant. He also wrote a book on John Locke, God, Locke, and Liberty: The Struggle for Religious Freedom in the West, I'd like to read. One of the points Loconte makes over and again, a point that did not originate with him and he is not the only one who makes it, is that liberal democracy, such as we have throughout the Western world, requires an underlying conservatism, which I take to be an understanding of what it is required for liberal democracy to work and for people flourish living in liberal democratic societies. Of course, critics of the liberal democratic state often and rather convincingly point out that there is nothing inherent in liberal democratic constructs that guarantee the required underlying conservatism. Chief among the features of this underlying conservatism is the very often neglected, when not ignored, principle of subsidiarity. This brings us to the rather uncomfortable reality of the importance of faith, perhaps a unique form of Christian faith and the values that arise directly from it, for such a form of government to succeed. Articulating the relationship between the Church and the state is another complex and highly contested matter. Separation of Church and state can easily lead to the Church being wholly subordinated to the state, which is why, as Pope St. John Paul II noted, after the right to life the next most important human right is religious liberty. Such an arrangement, at least one in which the importance of religious liberty is recognized, can also free the Church to exercise its prophetic role in society.

In light of this many worry about the collapse of Christianity in the United States. It is a valid concern. According Ed Stetzer, a Christian researcher (see "Churches in America- Part 3"), the Christian demographics that are collapsing are cultural and congregational Christians. The former don't typically go church, at least not regularly and consistently, and the latter have done so, not as a matter of faith and conviction but out of a kind of inertia.

According to Stetzer, convictional Christians today make up as much of the population, roughly 25%, as they ever have. That's nearly 81 million people. As anyone cognizant of these matters would be quick to point out, 81 million convicted Christians by no means comprise a political monolith. This is as true among Evangelicals and among Catholics as it is between Catholics and Evangelicals. By now it goes without saying that Western civilization is in crisis. By crisis I mean a time when difficult and important decisions must be made. It seems clear with the Brexit, with the Republicans choice of Trump and Sanders fairly successful insurgent campaign, as well as with similar challenges to long standing parties in Europe, that in many quarters people are ready for serious change, not necessarily revolutionary change, but comprehensive and radical (in the true sense of the word, returning to the root) reform.

Like many, I am torn between the left and the right. When it comes to economic matters, international affairs, and what we typically refer to as social issues I think there needs to be some rapprochement, or a popular electoral uprising that insists on one. In the U.S. we seem content, in light of our on-going failures, to remain bellicose. Instead of learning the lessons of Iraq, we seem to keep making the same mistakes in Libya, Syria, and elsewhere. Nobody will ever convince me that the phenomenon of ISIS would've happened without us making these blunders. But then ISIS helps us to remain perpetually at war, something Orwell warned about. There can be little doubt we have a rigged economy that results from our elected officials being in the pocket of big business and international corporations by-and-large having their way in the world. On the other hand, our intent to undermine marriage, to deny our femininity and masculinity, and to consider sexual liberty the highest echelon of human rights, also takes its toll, not least of which because it attempts to force all of us live a lie. Then there is our increasing indifference to human life from abortion, to the death penalty, to assisted suicide (the word "assisted" being key, its an effort to make others complicit in something intrinsically evil), to euthanasia. If you truly believe that human beings are created in the image of God, then I cannot see how you can glibly reverse the fundamental axiom that essence precedes existence without reaping the whirlwind.

We need to become far more familiar with the common good and what constitutes it. But we should not confuse it with the utilitarian concept that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. As we read in the Catechism: "In keeping with the social nature of man, the good of each individual is necessarily related to the common good, which in turn can be defined only in reference to the human person" (par. 1905). If you want to know more about the common good, I encourage you to read the Catechism of the Catholic Church 1905-1912.

One more thought on universalism

At least for Catholics the question of universalism is resolved through both dogma and the witness of the saints, which confirms dogma. Despite this a tension remains that can never be satisfactorily resolved this side of eternity. Given that universalism has been condemned as a heresy and the witness of saints, like St Faustina, whose visions are at least de facto approved by virtue of her canonization, which came only after a very thorough review of her claimed personal revelations, the writing down of which caused her to be under suspicion for decades, I am not even sure any hope that hell will be empty is a well-founded hope. It goes without saying that nobody should desire the damnation of another, which desire itself is damnable. At a minimum, whether or not one accepts the private revelations of St Faustina or not (no Catholic is obliged to accept them as being of divine origin), they at least enjoy an imprimatur and a nihil obstat, which means that there is nothing in her writings that is contrary to the faith.

In the 741st entry in her Diary, St Faustina recorded a visit she made to Hell:

I, Sister Faustina Kowalska, by the order of God, have visited the Abysses of Hell so that I might tell souls about it and testify to its existence...the devils were full of hatred for me, but they had to obey me at the command of God, What I have written is but a pale shadow of the things I saw. But I noticed one thing: That most of the souls there are those who disbelieved that there is a hell

Later, in the same diary entry, Faustina wrote:

Let the sinner know that he will be tortured throughout all eternity, in those senses which he made use of to sin. I am writing this at the command of God, so that no soul may find an excuse by saying there is no hell, or that nobody has ever been there, and so no one can say what it is like...how terribly souls suffer there! Consequently, I pray even more fervently for the conversion of sinners. I incessantly plead God's mercy upon them. O My Jesus, I would rather be in agony until the end of the world, amidst the greatest sufferings, than offend you by the least sin

My point? I think the tension between universalism and all way too narrow conceptions of salvation is unresolvable. In others words, the question, "Who will be saved in the end?" is unanswerable. In my view, the take away for Catholics is that we should not act presumptuously one way or the other. Not being presumptuous about ultimate things lets God be God. Was not the desire to be gods the original sin?

Hence, we should not presume the someone has either gone immediately to heaven or is damned to hell. The best certitude we can attain is that the saints are in heaven. With the exception of the Roman Pontiff, who possesses the power to loose and bind, which power is exercised in communion, no person or group of people can canonize another person. Of course, in a human sense, we're all entitled our opinion, but the Church's clergy should not be throwing about heretical opinions when preaching during the Church's funeral rites, or when addressing this subject when preaching on other occasions or instructing the faithful. It also bears noting that the veneration of a holy woman or man after her/his death by the faithful is a legitimate exercise of the sensus fidelium, but this is communal. not individual, something that arises from communion and not presumption.

It's here that I cut to the chase: as Catholics, praying for the dead and obtaining indulgences for souls in Purgatory are indispensable to the practice of our faith. It is by doing these things that we express our hope. As St Paul asked, "who hopes for what one sees?" (Rom 8:24) In light of this, why would you let your presumption trump your spiritual obligation to pray for the dead?

We can therefore hope in the glory of heaven promised by God to those who love him and do his will. In every circumstance, each one of us should hope, with the grace of God, to persevere 'to the end' and to obtain the joy of heaven, as God’s eternal reward for the good works accomplished with the grace of Christ. In hope, the Church prays for 'all men to be saved'" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, par 1821)

Patience is necessary

Readings: Bar 5:1-9; Ps 126:1-6; Phil 1:4-6.8-11; Luke 3:16

I've been thinking once again about Christian universalism, the idea that, in the end, everyone is saved, that all attain heaven. The reason I have been pondering universalism is because I just read a great antidote for it: C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce. Since becoming a Christian in my mid-20s, my conception of last things (i.e., death, judgment, purgatory, heaven and hell) is fairly consonant with Lewis'. Setting aside any detailed attempt at analysis and comparison, what I want to note is that, without a doubt, God is generous with salvation. After all, revelation tells us that God desires all to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4).

In The Great Divorce Lewis does a masterful job of illustrating how the refusal of salvation might look. It basically boils down to one's refusal to repent, that is, to resist being changed, or failing to even to grasp that one needs to change, and to demand, in a godlike manner, that reality be reduced to my measure and conform to my will. This refusal takes as many forms as there are refuseniks. It boils down to refusing to let go of anything and everything that is antithetical to the end for which one exists. In the end, what you desire for yourself must conform to what God desires for you.

Praying the Office of Readings today (something I do when I don't pray Morning Prayer) I came across an excerpt of a treatise on patience by St Cyprian. In this portion of his treatise, Cyprian sought to highlight the importance of perseverance and patience to salvation: "Dear brethren, we must endure and persevere if we are to attain the truth and freedom we have been allowed to hope for; faith and hope are the very meaning of our being Christians, but if faith and hope are to bear fruit, patience is necessary."

It occurred to me that the phrase- "if faith and hope are to bear fruit, patience is necessary"- expresses the spirit of Advent very well. Advent is a time of waiting. Waiting, as we all know, requires patience. Since waiting constitutes most of history and a lot of our lives, it seems that practicing waiting is an important way to begin each new year of grace.

Before anything else, a Christian must experience metanoia, or repentance. Why? Because everything else depends on this experience. Maybe the best way to describe repentance is the realization both that I need to change accompanied by some idea of what and how much I need to change, followed by the realization that I am incapable of completely transforming myself. In other words, repentance is a process that takes time. It is not a one time deal akin to what many call "getting saved."

Can God change me in an instant? Sure. In truth, through baptism God does bring about such an instantaneous change. God also does this whenever I make a good confession. God is merciful. But what good is the offer of mercy if you don't accept it? How can you accept it if you don't think you need it?

Because repentance is a process, so is justification. But even after baptism, even after making a good confession, the pull of my godless ways remains. We call this pull concupiscence. Because this is the reality in which we live, fallen though it be, we need to learn patience, not just patience with God, but also patience with ourselves, as well as patience with others. Letting one's self be changed in this way is the main work of any Christian's life.

St Paul assured the Christians in ancient Philippi of his confidence that God would "continue and complete" the "good work" He had begun in them until the coming of the Lord. I firmly believe that those of us who have experienced repentance can also rest assured in the Apostle's promise. For those who have not repented, it is not too late. In this life it is never too late. This is the call of the Baptist, which we hear anew each year on the Second Sunday of Advent: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths" (Luke 3:4).

What does the Church teach about hell?

There still remains much talk in support of what is called universalism. Like all such concepts universalism comes in many variations. The basic concept universalism seeks to instill is that in the end everyone goes to heaven, even if only eventually. So-called Christian universalism holds that all go to heaven because of Christ's sacrifice. It usually hearkens back to the writings of Origen. The variety of Christian universalism that seems to be gaining traction today does not dismiss hell altogether but seems to conflate it with purgatory.

It is never enjoyable to talk about hell. It is certainly quite out of vogue in our current situation as we see the evisceration of Christianity by secular states, which might yet prove to be a great gift. It is also true that more and more people have only a vague and passing familiarity with Christianity, often possessing only a grotesque caricature of what Christians believe. I will be the first to acknowledge that a message of fear is probably not the most effective method of evangelization (see "Evangelization means to 'Open the doors to Christ'"), but the stakes are high and will remain so until Christ returns in glory to judge the living and the dead. After all, eternal life is not the life begins after mortal death. Eternal life begins at Baptism, through the waters of which we die, are buried, and rise with Christ. Living sub specie aeternitatis ("under the aspect of eternty") is a very different way of living than quasi Deus non daretur (as if if there is no God). As human beings lovingly made in the image of God we have an end for which we are made and for which we are redeemed, that is, a destiny.

As I did last time I posted on universalism (see "Seeking clarity about heaven and hell") there are some necessary caveats that I need to state up-front. First and foremost, I personally desire the damnation of nobody and try to evangelize in the different milieux in which I find myself. I am content to let God be God, even as we know from Scripture that there are damnable activities (1 Cor 6:9-10 and Gal 5:19-21- I encourage you to read these in context to see this is no exercise in proof-texting). Second, while there are situations in which explicit faith in Christ Jesus is not possible and so does not preclude the possibility of salvation, I believe wholeheartedly that following Christ as a member of His Body, the Church, is the surest means of salvation. One of the surest signs of Christian discipleship is evangelizing others. In his Letter to the Romans, St Paul wrote about the law written on our hearts:

For when the Gentiles who do not have the law by nature observe the prescriptions of the law, they are a law for themselves even though they do not have the law. They show that the demands of the law are written in their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even defend them on the day when, according to my gospel, God will judge people’s hidden works through Christ Jesus (Rom 2:12-16)

Third, anyone who is saved is saved by Jesus Christ, without whom there is no salvation for anyone (Acts 4:12). A person who has never heard the Gospel is neither automatically saved nor automatically damned. If people who had never heard the Gospel never became accountable to God then we would actually do people a disservice by sharing the Gospel with them. After all, why risk automatic salvation for something that is not a sure thing?

Given all of the above, it is important to know what the clear teaching of the Church is when it comes to hell. We are blessed to have a sure guide - the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The Catechism allows us to determine in clear, precise language the Church's teaching on this very solemn matter. For those familiar with the structure of the Catechism one can read about hell in Part One, Section Two, Chapter III, Article 12. IV, which consists of paragraphs 1033-1037:

The Last Judgement, by Rogier van der Weyden, 1445-50

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." [1 John 3:14-15] 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. [Matt 25:31-46] To die in mortal sin without repenting and accepting God's merciful love means remaining separated from him forever by our own free choice. This state of definitive self-exclusion from communion with God and the blessed is called "hell."

1034 Jesus often speaks of "Gehenna" of "the unquenchable fire" reserved for those who to the end of their lives refuse to believe and be converted, where both soul and body can be lost. [Matt 5:22] Jesus solemnly proclaims that he "will send his angels, and they will gather . . . all evil doers, and throw them into the furnace of fire," [Matt 13:41-42] and that he will pronounce the condemnation: "Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire! and that he will pronounce the condemnation: "Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire!" [Matt 25:41]

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." [there are a number of references in this footnote, not least of which is from Bl Pope Paul VI's Credo of the People of God- #12 "He will come again, this time in glory, to judge the living and the dead: each according to his merits-those who have responded to the love and piety of God going to eternal life, those who have refused them to the end going to the fire that is not extinguished"] 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.

1036 The affirmations of Sacred Scripture and the teachings of the Church on the subject of hell are a call to the responsibility incumbent upon man to make use of his freedom in view of his eternal destiny. They are at the same time an urgent call to conversion: "Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few." [Matt 7:13-14]

       Since we know neither the day nor the hour, we should follow the advice of the Lord        and watch constantly so that, when the single course of our earthly life is completed,        we may merit to enter with him into the marriage feast and be numbered among the ,        blessed and not, like the wicked and slothful servants, be ordered to depart into the        eternal fire, into the outer darkness where "men will weep and gnash their teeth."       [Lumen Gentium par 48 and scriptural references]

1037 God predestines no one to go to hell; [Citations of canons from the Councils of Orange and Trent] for this, a willful turning away from God (a mortal sin) is necessary, and persistence in it until the end. In the Eucharistic liturgy and in the daily prayers of her faithful, the Church implores the mercy of God, who does not want "any to perish, but all to come to repentance":[2 Peter 3:9]

Father, accept this offering from your whole family.
Grant us your peace in this life,
save us from final damnation,
and count us among those you have chosen.[Roman Missal, EP I (Roman Canon) 88]

You must know your faith in order to live it fully.

Seeking clarity about heaven and hell

At least in the on-line circles I frequent, there has been a lot of discussion lately about universalism. Universalism is the belief that somehow, some way, in the end, God will save everyone no matter what. Reading these exchanges has caused me to reflect on what I believe. It is these thoughts that prompt this post. I will tell you up-front, I am not looking to make a theological contribution to the exchange, but simply to clarify things for myself and perhaps a few others. As a result, apart from a few scriptural references, which I don't think amount to proof texting, I am just going to give a top-level overview of my understanding of this matter in prose and in as straightforward a manner as I am capable of providing.

In this piece I use the terms "salvation," "saved," "being saved," etc. in a reductive sense, only referring to ultimately enjoying the beatific vision of God and participating fully in the wedding feast of the Lamb.

To state my position clearly, I am a Roman Catholic who believes what the Church teaches. I believe that Jesus Christ is "the way and the truth and the life" and that nobody goes to the Father except through Him (John 14:6). I also believe salvation comes through Jesus Christ and "There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved" (Acts 4:12). I further believe that God "wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth" (1 Tim 2:4). While I could cite more scriptural evidence, I think these passages show enough to grasp what we might call the dialectical tension at the heart of salvation.

This tension at the heart of what God has revealed about salvation in and through Christ is important because it is what allows us to consider salvation in light of the complexities of human life. Orthodoxy, it seems to me, usually requires Christians to hold two or more seemingly disparate ideas/concepts/notions in tension. So, when it comes to salvation, as with so many articles of Christian faith, the truth lies in media res (i.e., "in the middle of things").

The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things, attributed to Hieronymus Bosch, ca 1500

Two things are axiomatic to any Catholic consideration of who will be saved unto life eternal. First, universalism has been condemned by the Catholic Church as a heresy. Second, without Christ and His Church nobody at all would be saved. To keep this simple and in scope, I take the doctrinal formulation extra Ecclesiam nulla salus ("outside the Church there is no salvation") as simply pointing us to the necessity of the Church for salvation. The Church, even for those saved seemingly apart from her, plays a necessary role in the salvation of any and all who are saved. When we consider that the Church is not limited to those alive on earth at any given time but that it also consists of the souls in purgatory and, more relevant to this matter, the saints in heaven who constantly intercede for us, this makes great sense.

I believe people can be saved in an extraordinary manner, that is, without having explicit faith in Jesus Christ or receiving the sacraments. It's important to note that extraordinary means outside the norm. So this belief should not result in being presumptive about knowing who God will save in this way, lest we become damnably lax. The normative way to salvation is by coming to explicit faith in Christ and receiving the sacraments, particularly Baptism. I do not believe for one moment that people who do not have faith in Christ and who do not belong to the Church, even those who have never had the Gospel preached to them in a compelling manner, are automatically saved. To my mind, this is the main reason why the Church, by her very nature, is missionary, tasked by the Lord Himself to "make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that" Jesus has commanded us (Matt 28:19-20). This is part of what we mean when we confess the Church to be "apostolic."

As a faithful Roman Catholic I believe in heaven, purgatory, and hell. Based on my grasp of the Church's teaching and the testimony of the saints, I don't believe hell is empty. Neither do I presume to know who is in hell or who will be in hell. I believe damnation is eternal and unending. I am content to let God, who alone knows all and who alone is both perfect justice and perfect mercy, judge each person. I think perfect justice and perfect mercy, while distinguishable, are bound so tightly together that you can't have one without the other.

When it comes to what happens to anyone after death I make no presumptions either way. I simply commend the dead to God. The only exception to this rule is those who the Church recognizes as venerable, blessed, or as saints. I have known people about whom I could say, "If s/he isn't in heaven there is much hope for the rest of us" and those who I pray God has mercy on their souls. While I hope I am many years from passing from this life into eternity and that by God's grace I will be saved, I am quite certain I fall into the latter category. Hence, I hope that after my passing there are people who implore God on my behalf.

I also believe purgatory to be populated and so I believe in praying for those in purgatory and seeking indulgences on their behalf to help them on their way.

Among Christians I don't think anyone who has reached the age of reason, especially those who have lived into adulthood, can presume that his/her salvation is guaranteed. I certainly do not believe mine is.

The best of Καθολικός διάκονος 2014

My blog is a very personal endeavor and has been since its inception. It will continue to be until such a time as I decide to call it quits. In other words, Καθολικός διάκονος is not a Catholic news aggregation service, or a clearing house for Catholic goods and services. I do not blog for gain, quite the opposite: I do so at some cost, albeit not huge, just the time it takes to compose and post something. I see what I do here in this cyberspace as part of my diaconal ministry, a way to reach people I could not possibly reach otherwise. I do not want to sell you anything. I am not remunerated in any way, shape, or form- I don't get paid for receiving a certain number of hits, etc. My beyond-modest-offerings I give for free to anyone who finds value in them.

I compose my posts, not with fellow Catholic bloggers in mind, but people I know, that is, ordinary, every day people who are Catholic Christians and non-Catholic Christians who constantly ponder how it is they integrate their faith, which is a gift from God, into all aspects of their lives, to live integrated lives, lives of integrity, with Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, as the integrating factor, keeping in mind that grace works in and through ordinary circumstances. Faith can never amount to smug certainty.

In my view, it is all too easy for the so-called Catholic blogosphere to become a closed circle, a self-licking ice cream cone, which, at least to my mind, amounts to the antithesis of evangelization. I am fully aware that my approach to faith and life, while quite conventional and even conservative in most respects, is eccentric, but I hope not in the extreme. I know for a fact that my approach annoys some and infuriates others. You know what? I am fine with that. God bless my detractors. One of my passions is to show how Christian faith and contemporary culture are not as at odds as many Christians and atheists seem to think, even as I keep in mind Balthasar's lament that you can't simply baptize everything.

One way I know I am eccentric is by approaching things with the conviction that most of the time adult Catholics are spoken and written down to, as if they don't have a brain in their head, which only serves to reinforce the notion many people have, which is that faith has no bearing on real, grown-up, life.

Serving at the altar of the Lord with my bishop- the greatest privilege I can imagine

It is my constant prayer that everything I post helps at least one person in her/his daily walk with the Lord, about which C.S. Lewis observed: "Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done." It has become my custom at the end of each year to offer one post from each month that stands out in my mind. These are not necessarily the most popular posts. In fact, most of them aren't (a few are). So, below you will find what I consider to be "the best of Καθολικός διάκονος" for 2014. I would be more than thrilled if either of my two readers shared something from Καθολικός διάκονος that struck them this year.

January: Finding my own Penmaen Pool

February: Becoming "like" God, or becoming Gods?

March: You are you, past, present, future

April: Pope Francis on the current milieu- a few thoughts in passing

May: The Lion, Lucy and the necessity of growing in faith

June: Transcendence in the drama of Samuel Beckett

July: Odysseus and the quest for home

August: Suicide, anger and fear

September: Balthasar on being a Christian

October: Finding love and value in same-sex relationships

November: Are all saved regardless?: Thoughts on universalism

December: Abortion: When does a person become a person?

Are all saved regardless?: Thoughts on universalism

Once in awhile I am tremendously provoked by my experience of reality. Questions of meaning have been part of my consciousness for as long as I can remember. I am not unique in this regard, questions of meaning are not only part and parcel of being human, these questions, in a very real sense, constitute our humanity. These questions begin with the word "Why."

I remember in the wake of the Haitian earthquake several years ago Msgr Lorenzo Albacete, insisting that our Christian faith does not and, moreover, should not give us easy answers to reality's vicissitudes, saying something to the effect, "Asking 'Why?' in the face of a devastating natural disaster is the most human response imaginable." It is just as human to ask "Why?" when we are confronted with the evil committed by human beings. The result of my provocation yesterday was posting this on Facebook: "If we're universalists, then screw it, I'll do whatever I want and conform my life accordingly. Take your theology with you when you leave lest I beat you with it." Ham-fisted? Certainly. Provocative? I hope so, but probably not.

One question in which I am interested is, Does universalism amount to consequence-free living, at least in the ultimate sense? In other words, do I only have to endure the natural and temporal consequences of my bad choices without fear of an eternal consequence? If so, why should I keep going to confession, one of the key features of which is to take away the eternal punishment due to me as the just response to my sins. More to the point, What about the effects my sinful behaviors have on others? How is justice achieved for them? At least as it concerns me, as a Christian, I relinquish my just claim against others, which is what it means to truly forgive, but what about those who do not relinquish their just claim? Yes, they will be liable to those who, in turn, have a just claim against them, but even so... is such a refusal to relinquish just claims itself a damnable offense?

This reflection strikes me as a very good one as we approach tomorrow's Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, which is all about the end of time and the Lord's return in glory to judge the living (i.e., "the quick"- better to be quick than dead) and the dead.

As a Catholic I believe in what the Church calls "mortal sin." According to the Church's teaching eternal punishment is due these sins, namely hell. If my understanding is correct, if I recognize the evil I have done, realizing I have been the cause of evil effects that I can never correct, and refuse to repent of it, I stand in danger of damnation, which is eternal, not merely temporary.

One friend very usefully asked me to list the names of people I hope are not saved. It was a brilliant provocation. I suppose the most honest answer would be, Anyone and everyone who has ever done me wrong, treated me poorly, slandered me, unjustly impugned me, etc. But such an answer points right back at me and puts me on the list of anyone and everyone I have ever wronged. Jesus came to put an end to the infinite regress of retribution in a fallen world. So, I answered, "Me, after that I am at a loss." Truth be told, like St Paul, I desperately want to be saved, not just as a function of wanting the best for myself, but a deep desire to experience that for which I was made and redeemed.

Last Judgment, by Stefan Lochner, ca 1435

Another thoughtful response asked the question, "is our reason for following Jesus Christ and his Church our love for him, or is it utilitarian: a quid pro quo? I'll be nice if you give me eternal life. And if I'm not, you'll kick my ass. Eternally." These questions are posed rhetorically to demonstrate a point I find frustrating because I find it so difficult to truly love. In terms of the practice of our faith, it's that way with everything- Do I attend Mass because I am obligated or because I love God and want to do what I am made and redeemed to do, namely worship Him, which is my sanctification?

I think it's important not to short-circuit my own concern, reduce it to a cliché and say, "See, problem solved!" I truly believe that there are questions of meaning and significance that do not arise from an utilitarian calculus, even while accounting for the fact that nobody will be saved because s/he deserves it, least of all me. Even now, as defective as I am in love of God and neighbor, I want what God wants- that everyone be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4). Did I not want this I would be wholly unsuited for ministry. Even so, in this regard the question remains- Do I or do I not have reason for concern in this regard, for myself or anyone else? In other words, does my ministry serve God's purpose over and above any palliative and temporal effects my service might have on those I serve.

Earlier this week I was browsing through a pamphlet of prayers published and distributed by the now defunct magazine 30 Days In the Church and in the World. The English title of the booklet is "Who Prays Is Saved" (you can view it here). It features an introduction by then-Cardinal Ratzinger. It's basically a little Basic Book of Catholic Prayers.

"Who Prays Is Saved" also contains some catechetical material. Listed number one under the "Six Sins Against the Holy Spirit" is "Presumption of God's mercy." I suppose the relevant issue, stated with considerably more care than my initial provocation, is, What is the source of the tension between the two poles of trying to save one's self by being "good" (Having been raised in a religion that taught not only the possibility, but the necessity, of self-perfection, I have enough experience of this to know that, at least for me, this is not possible) and being presumptive of God's mercy, which seems, at least at first glance, to remove a great deal of significance and meaning from human existence?

In his encyclical letter Spe salvi, on the theological virtue of hope, Pope Benedict XVI addressed some of this in a most useful way:

To protest against God in the name of justice is not helpful. A world without God is a world without hope (cf. Eph 2:12). Only God can create justice. And faith gives us the certainty that he does so. The image of the Last Judgement is not primarily an image of terror, but an image of hope; for us it may even be the decisive image of hope. Is it not also a frightening image? I would say: it is an image that evokes responsibility, an image, therefore, of that fear of which Saint Hilary spoke when he said that all our fear has its place in love [here he cited Tractatus super Psalmos, Ps 127, 1-3]. God is justice and creates justice. This is our consolation and our hope. And in his justice there is also grace. This we know by turning our gaze to the crucified and risen Christ. Both these things—justice and grace—must be seen in their correct inner relationship. Grace does not cancel out justice. It does not make wrong into right. It is not a sponge which wipes everything away, so that whatever someone has done on earth ends up being of equal value. Dostoevsky, for example, was right to protest against this kind of Heaven and this kind of grace in his novel The Brothers Karamazov. Evildoers, in the end, do not sit at table at the eternal banquet beside their victims without distinction, as though nothing had happened

Fred, who is perhaps my best friend that I have yet to meet in person, in a comment noted something I found very useful and provocative: "Universalism is an abstract solution to an existential problem, but this problem has itself been castrated, rendered abstract, by having been removed from the present to the afterlife. What can save me, who can save me, is the question of daily life. Tax collectors and prostitutes know this, and this is why they enter heaven ahead of the Pharisees, who smug in their daily life, feel a kind of anxiety as to whether the ultimate bookkeeper will approve of their accounting."

My critical response to this would be that the existential is the beginning of my question. The question I pose here is not, "Is it possible to live this way," but, "Is it desirable to live this way?" If it is, how so? These concerns do not seem to me abstract, but rather concrete. Again, speaking only for myself, there is way for me to live that comes quite easily, too easily.

I suppose the existential answer would go something like, "Don't go back to Rockville and waste another year."

All Souls: a reflection on death

Death can be scary. If nothing else, death is a mystery. Even in the blinding light of revelation life after death has its awesome (awe-filled/awe-full) aspects. Hence, it is understandable that in the face of death we are tempted to sidestep the reality that confronts us. It seems to me that the Dies Irae from the Requiem Mass helped Christians for centuries face the reality of death in a hopeful and yet unsentimental way. In light of that, I am always puzzled when, during funerals the deceased is raised to the altar, that is, canonized. I am even more puzzled when the celebrant then, via the liturgy, which is theologia prima, or "first theology" (thus showing is theology is concrete and not a mere abstraction), implores prayers for the one who has passed. If s/he is heaven, there is no further need to pray for them, right? At least to my mind, this discloses how frequently incoherent our understanding of last things has become. I am going to go out on a limb and insist that nothing impacts how we live more dramatically than our understanding of Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and hell.

Let's be clear. For the human person, looking at death from the perspective of Christian revelation, death is the most unnatural separation imaginable. God never intended death to happen. Hence, death is not, as many aver, "The most natural thing in the world." Death is the least natural thing in the world, which is why it fills us with awe, if not downright fear. For Christians, death is a temporary dislocation/dissociation. This is confirmed by St Paul in the fifteenth chapter of his First Letter to the Corinthians: "The last enemy to be destroyed is death, for 'he subjected everything under his feet'" (verses 26-27a). This gives me the chance to draw attention to something written recently by my friend, the brilliant young scholar Artur Rosman: "FACT: Christians DON’T Believe in the Immortality of the Soul."

All Souls Day, by William Bouguereau, 1859

In an article he wrote back in 2000, "Good Grief and Bad", Msgr Lorenzo Alabacete, who passed into eternity just last week, gave beautiful expression to the inevitable questions that arise in the face of suffering and death, questions that do not lend themselves, at least not ultimately, to facile answers:

I suspect that today we are not supposed to expect that much of life. We are supposed to settle for less. What, then, do we expect of grief counselors? To help us suppress these embarrassing expectations of the heart? Is consolation after all a lowering of expectations? If anything, I am consoled by the Book of Job, which derides those who tried to explain Job's suffering to him. God does not seek to console him; He just shows up, and this is enough. It was not explanations Job wanted, but solidarity, compassion, love

By sending mixed signals, even though done with the very best of intention of giving comfort to those in grief, succeeding perhaps only temporarily, one chooses to simply set aside the deep and inevitable questions, thus causing cognitive and spiritual dissonance by approaching mysteries in a superficial manner. Do we no longer trust, or believe, what Scripture and Tradition tell us about Last Things? The specter of death coupled with any grasp of the awesomeness of God is something we all prefer to utterly avoid, which is why I found this observation of Von Balthasar's, made in his short book Who Is a Christian, so comforting: "But the Word of God holds us ineluctably and is so clear in what it states that it can at any time withstand the sorry amalgams into which people mix it."

In this context it's a bit ironic that what Balthasar is probably most famous for are some the "sorry amalgams into which" he (at least seemed at times) to mix Last Things. In the view of many, he did this in his provocative book Dare We Hope That All Men Be Saved?: With a Short Discourse on Hell,. While I think what he wrote is understandable and within the bounds of orthodoxy, many argue that he pulled back at the last minute from embracing the heresy of universalism (i.e., the belief that, in the end, everyone will be saved and/or that hell is temporary, not eternal- the latter postulation has its Christian source in the theological speculations of that great theologian of the early Church, Origen, and is known by its Greek name apokatastasis).

In the view of some, especially theologian Alyssa Pitstick, Balthasar, in his theology of Holy Saturday, also mixed a sorry amalgam. In her doctoral dissertation, which was published as a book entitled Light in Darkness: Hans Urs von Balthasar and the Catholic Doctrine of Christ's Descent into Hell, Pitstick called into question Balthasar's assertion that Christ, between His death and resurrection, actually suffered the pains of hell (in the Apostles Creed we profess that Christ "descended into hell"), instead of descending into what is known to Tradition as the "limbo of fathers," where the souls of the righteous went to await Christ's resurrection. In his doctoral dissertation, published recently as Will Many Be Saved?: What Vatican II Actually Teaches and Its Implications for the New Evangelization, Dr Ralph Martin sought to clarify these issues in light of the teaching of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council.

It seems to me that as Christians we can do nothing other than commend those who die to God. This sounds easy, but it is not. In commending those who have died to God we are forced to acknowledge that judging them, one way or the other, is not up to us. Commendation of the dead to God is a huge act of trust, which is what makes it an act of hope. So, when we auto-canonize or auto-condemn (something I am pretty sure never happens at a funeral these days, which is good), we seek, wittingly or unwittingly, to steal God's prerogative. This is why through St Faustina Kowalaska, the Lord taught us to pray, "Jesus, I trust in You."

Since I invoked the saints, it is necessary to note that there may well be instances in which the holiness of the deceased person seems evident. But in even in such cases, before we proceed off-the-cuff, we need to know more in order to judge better, which is why there is a formal canonical process. There is no harm in noting the good qualities a person may have possessed, or even some of the good things s/he did that are memorable, or even exemplary.

Fr Anthony Paone, S.J. observed in a reflection that is published in the popular daily devotional My Daily Bread:

Death, Judgment, Heaven, and hell --- these are the four last things toward which we are moving each hour of the day and night. They will never frighten us if our conscience is clear. If we love God in our daily life, that is, if we are sincerely trying to know and follow His holy Will, we have no reason to fear.

By keeping this eternal goal ever before us, we shall think straight when life’s problems and difficulties face us. In making the following meditations, we must strive to become *eternity-minded*. We must seek to guarantee to ourselves, as far as is in our power, the unending success and unmarred happiness of Heaven (p. 25)

We call this, living sub specie aeternitatis, that is, "under the aspect of eternity."