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.

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)

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.

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.

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."

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).

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

All Who Do Evil Are Redeemed- Christians Included

We're going through one of those periods in which the fallen-ness and broken-ness of the world is readily apparent: the hacking to death on a London street of a British soldier by two Islamic terrorists, the devastating tornadoes that ripped through Oklahoma, the worrisome governmental scandals and probable cover ups involving the IRS, DOJ, and State Department, etc. So it seems perfectly natural that many of us are searching for rays of light in this present darkness.

I am very glad that for an increasing number of people Pope Francis is the man who delivers it. He does so especially through his well-publicized homilies, which are short and to the point. Typically, he preaches these at the daily Masses he usually celebrates in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae, the Vatican guest house where he has chosen to take up residence, instead of in the papal apartments.

Yesterday, Wednesday, 22 May, he preached on the short daily Gospel, which consisted of a mere three verses from the ninth chapter of St. Mark's Gospel:

John said to him, “Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.” Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me. For whoever is not against us is for us. Anyone who gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ, amen, I say to you, will surely not lose his reward

Commenting on this passage, the Holy Father said,

The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! ‘Father, the atheists?’ Even the atheists. Everyone! And this Blood makes us children of God of the first class! We are created children in the likeness of God and the Blood of Christ has redeemed us all! And we all have a duty to do good. And this commandment for everyone to do good, I think, is a beautiful path towards peace. If we, each doing our own part, if we do good to others, if we meet there, doing good, and we go slowly, gently, little by little, we will make that culture of encounter: we need that so much. We must meet one another doing good. ‘But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!’ But do good: we will meet one another there

It seems clear that the "there" to which the Pontiff makes reference is not heaven, but doing good. The Christian and the charitable atheist will meet "there" at the soup kitchen, the food pantry, the homeless shelter, the refugee center, the AIDS hospice, the free clinic, etc., which becomes the place of encounter.

This led the HuffPo to put up a most unfortunate and misleading headline: "Pope Francis Says All Who Do Good are Redeemed- Atheists Included." It would've been more accurate to write that "All Who Do Evil Are Redeemed- Christians Included." As St. Paul wrote, "For there is no distinction; all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:22b-23).

People have been jumping all over this as if the Holy Father had announced some new breakthrough in Catholic teaching, or, as some surely hoped, articulating some actual change in doctrine, leading towards universalism. Of course, he was doing neither.

Christ Crucified between the Two Thieves: The Three Crosses Rembrandt

It seems to me that in this passage Pope Francis was articulating two things:

1) People who are atheists can perform acts of charity with selfless motivations (Of course they can, who asserted otherwise?)

2) That Christ died to redeem everyone, even people who are atheists (Of course He did, because by His holy cross, He has redeemed the world and everyone in it.)

I think the enthusiasm is probably generated either by a conflation of redemption and justification, or simply by ignoring justification altogether.

While the Catholic Church dogmatically rejects sola fide, insisting that faith is not mere subjective confidence that one is pardoned by God, but includes righteous works, she recognizes that justification itself is a work of grace. As the Catechism states: "Moved by grace, man turns toward God and away from sin, thus accepting forgiveness and righteousness from on high. 'Justification is not only the remission of sins, but also the sanctification and renewal of the interior man'" (par. 1989). So, contra the misinformed headline, we don't redeem or justify ourselves.

Should an unbeliever attain heaven, which is not an impossibility (this is nothing new either- see Romans 2:12-18), it would be because of Jesus Christ, without whom, no one, including His Blessed Mother, would go to heaven.

Allow me to turn again to St. Paul, who summed up redemption well as part of his formulation of what is very likely the first Christian creed: "Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures" (1 Cor. 15:3). And also in Romans 5:8: "But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us!"

In a recent speech, Bishop Mark Davies of Shrewsbury, England exhorted the faithful to be wary of the media's agenda when reporting on Pope Francis: "Expectations are subtly or less subtly raised that this is the man who will change the Catholic faith itself in accordance with the commentator’s own wishes and agenda." This episode, I think, provides us with a great case-in-point, which why a basic grasp of redemption is a good place to start.

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..^↩

Morality, moralism, and missing the mark

I tire of those who think theology, especially their theology, or their preferred theology, trumps Sacred Scripture. Any "theology" that is clearly at odds with Sacred Scripture is not a theology.

Take this, for example: "For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a fearful expectation of judgment, and a fury of fire that will consume the adversaries" (Heb. 10:26-27- ESV). The words "sinning" and "sins" in these verses are translations the Greek word hamartia, which means "to miss the mark." After coming to faith in Christ, we can't go on missing the mark!

Yes, this verse has a context, as does every other verse in the Bible. The specific sin being referred to by the sacred author, who is a Jewish Christian writing to other Jewish Christians, is that of apostasy, specifically turning from Christ back to observing the Law as a means of salvation. In other words, not just missing the mark, but aiming at another target and still hoping to score a bullseye!

Can't this be applied to other situations and circumstances as well, to us today? If not, then what use is Scripture, why read it, let alone study it? If it only applies directly to those to whom it was originally addressed, then what makes Scripture different from other writings, in what way are they "God-breathed," as we read in 2 Timothy 3:16?

A blow-up from Luco Signorelli's fresco, Deeds of the Antichrist, ca. 1501

How we live and why we live the way we do matters. Why is that so difficult for so many to grasp? Why do people imagine that a "gospel" that seeks to reduce the significance of our lives, to rob us of our humanity, holds any appeal? Without presuming to know who, or how many, might ultimately be saved or condemned (only God knows), I have to ask, Why does the temptation to the heresy of universalism remain so prevalent? What, or who, will move us from being fleshly people to spiritual people, or does it even matter whether we continue living fleshly lives after we have come to faith in Christ? Is sanctification a myth, or, is what Chesterton asserted in What's Wrong with the World accurate, "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried?" Have we completely lost sight of the old and honorable seeking to cooperate with what God, by means of His grace, is doing by our lives?

Beyond that, is every moral exhortation an exercise in being "moralistic?" If so, then we find moralism in Scripture, even falling from the lips of Jesus Himself. Can it be that there should be no shoulds, no "thou shalts" and no "thou shan'ts?" Of course, our reason for obeying is a response of faith, one that flows forth out of love and gratitude.

How about the good old Catholic both/and? What we do matters and why we do what we do matters. Is it possible to live this way, in the manner of a Christian, which, among other things, means to live humbly acknowledging our sins and failings and experiencing God's goodness and mercy while trying to act justly and mercifully towards others, not as a way to gain God's favor, or earn our salvation, but in gratitude for what God has done, and keeps doing for us in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit?

The fearful prospect of judgment disappears through repentance. Repentance, derived as it is from the Greek word metanoia, works brilliantly in this context, as it means to turn around.

Want to read about Jesus? Read 'Simply Jesus'

In his book Simply Jesus (written as a follow-up to his magnificent Simply Christian- a book I highly recommend giving to young people, being something of a twenty-first century Mere Christianity), N.T. Wright, in one chapter, refutes Reza Aslan's thesis about Jesus being a Zealot, a member of "the Jewish nationalist revolutionary party," dedicated to armed revolt against the Romans and the re-establishment of the united Davidic kingdom.

In the first part of the book, Wright uses the metaphor of a "perfect storm" to frame Jesus' time: the western gale being the imperial power of Rome, the high pressure system being the Judaism of the time with its national aspirations, and finally the hurricane, perhaps reduced to the power of a tropical storm, of the coming of God's rule in and through Jesus of Nazareth, who defied all expectations.

The chapter of Simply Jesus in which Wright, a renowned Bible and Early Church scholar, refutes Aslan, the religious sociologist and creative writing professor, even before the latter put fingers to keyboard, is the fourth chapter, entitled "The Making of a First-Century Storm."

After briefly describing the history of imperial Rome, which began with Julius Caesar famously crossing the Rubicon river in BC 49 with his army from Gaul, he composed a section he called "The Jewish Storm." In this section Wright chronicles the history of Israel, seeking to show how this history, especially the perception among Jesus' fellow Jews that they were playing a part in God's plan, shaped and formed Jesus' time. I think Wright is correct to assert that it is very difficult for us today "to imagine what it's like to live within a long story" in the way the Jews of Jesus' day did. I find him to be very insightful when he writes that perhaps the closest we can come "is the widespread assumption that ever since the rise of the modern Western world we are acting out a story of 'progress.'" He also proceeds with a fairly good explanation about how this is really a fictitious narrative, one refuted by actual events.

Especially in light of what he wrote in Simply Christian, I was surprised that Wright does not even mention that Christians are supposed to live this same story, the thread of which we seem to be in danger of losing. The result of this increasing loss is making Christianity yet another ahistorical religion, which opens the way for such schlock as making Christianity the way to "live your best life now" and other perversions, like the increasingly not-so-implicit universalism, according to which nothing has significance because, in the end, everyone goes to heaven, which belief the Church, even now, assiduously maintains is a heresy. If, as Flannery O'Connor noted, nothing matters, then we are deprived of our humanity. Working on such a faulty assumption leads to very slipshod pastoral care because one deliberately chooses to ignore the most pressing matter in each person's life- the deep desire to be happy, to be content, to be completely satisfied.

Although he passes over it quickly, Wright notes that the story in which the Jews of Jesus' time perceived themselves to be playing their part had been on-going for more than a thousand years. The story of Israel, Wright observes, as "far as we know," is "unique in the ancient world." The cornerstone of the uniqueness of the Jewish story was that the God of Israel "was the one true God of all the world. He wasn't simply one god among many. It was therefore impossible that his will for the world would be ultimately thwarted." So, their state-of-affairs (i.e., being conquered by and subject to the Romans), like the Assyrian and Babylonian exiles, seemed to be an impediment to the accomplishment of God's purpose for Israel, something that had to be overcome. Of course, the Roman conquest would ultimately lead to the third Jewish exile, the dispersion, which was the result of the failed Bar Kokhba (a would-be Messiah) revolt of AD 132-136, which followed the earlier revolt that resulted in the destruction of the Temple in AD 70. It was at the conclusion of the Bar Kokhba revolt that the Romans decreed no Jew was allowed to live in the Roman province of Palestine.

Wright then reminisces about time he spent in Jerusalem in 1989, especially about his walks through the ultra-Orthodox Mea Shearim section of the ancient city. He notes that many of those who originally settled in Mea Shearim came from Eastern Europe to flee the Nazi slaughter. He recalls seeing a lot of posters that basically said it was important to now observe the Law because of Hitler and that "because of what Hitler did that God would now do a new thing," presumably send the Messiah. The point of this recollection is to note how the Messanic expectation among the Jews of Jesus' time was ramped up because of Caesar. Among both groups there is/was the expectation that God would have to send a deliverer in order to accomplish His purpose. This is one of many reasons why so many Jews today, just as in His own time, reject even the possibility of Jesus of Nazareth being the Messiah: He was not a zealot committed to waging war on the Romans!

Jesus, who, in Wright's metaphor of the perfect storm, represents the hurricane of God, defies all Jewish messianic expectations. This is shown time and again in the Gospels, especially His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Matt 21:1-11; Mark 11:1-11; Luke 19:28-44; John 12:12-19), which Christians commemorate on Palm Sunday. There is also the dialogue in John 18:33-38, in which Jesus tells the beleaguered Roman procurator, "My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants [would] be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here." It is also shown in the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, when, just prior to His ascension, the Twelve ask Jesus if "now" He is going to restore Israel (Acts 1:6-8). Jesus makes it clear in each of these and a few other instances that He is not the Messiah of contemporary expectation. To reduce Jesus to a Zealot really makes no sense of the historical data.

Here is another rub that defeats Aslan's thesis, even more thoroughly than the theses of other "historical" Jesus fiction writers (i.e., Crossan, Borg, Pagels et al): apart from the canonical Gospels, which were written closer to the time of Jesus' earthly life than virtually any other chronicles from the ancient world telling of other historic persons and apart from the establishment and continuation of the Church, whose existence is well-chronicled from ancient times to now, there are really only two extra-biblical sources that pertain directly to Jesus' life- those by Tactitus and Suetonious. It refutes him because it poses the question, From what reliable historical sources does he draw his conclusion that Jesus was simply a Zealot? Beyond this, was it not St. Paul, writing to the Christians in Rome sometime between AD 55-58, who asserted the need for Christians to be subject to governmental authority (Rom. 13:1-7)? St. Justin Martyr, in his First Apology, written about a hundred years later and addressed to the Roman emperor, insisted that Christians are the best citizens.

In Book 15, Chapter 44 of his Annals, the Roman senator and historian Tacitus wrote:

Such indeed were the precautions of human wisdom. The next thing was to seek means of propitiating the gods, and recourse was had to the Sibylline books, by the direction of which prayers were offered to Vulcanus, Ceres, and Proserpina. Juno, too, was entreated by the matrons, first, in the Capitol, then on the nearest part of the coast, whence water was procured to sprinkle the fane and image of the goddess. And there were sacred banquets and nightly vigils celebrated by married women. But all human efforts, all the lavish gifts of the emperor, and the propitiations of the gods, did not banish the sinister belief that the conflagration was the result of an order. Consequently, to get rid of the report, Nero fastened the guilt and inflicted the most exquisite tortures on a class hated for their abominations, called Christians by the populace. Christus, from whom the name had its origin, suffered the extreme penalty during the reign of Tiberius at the hands of one of our procurators, Pontius Pilatus, and a most mischievous superstition, thus checked for the moment, again broke out not only in Judaea, the first source of the evil, but even in Rome, where all things hideous and shameful from every part of the world find their center and become popular. Accordingly, an arrest was first made of all who pleaded guilty; then, upon their information, an immense multitude was convicted, not so much of the crime of firing the city, as of hatred against mankind. Mockery of every sort was added to their deaths. Covered with the skins of beasts, they were torn by dogs and perished, or were nailed to crosses, or were doomed to the flames and burnt, to serve as a nightly illumination, when daylight had expired. Nero offered his gardens for the spectacle, and was exhibiting a show in the circus, while he mingled with the people in the dress of a charioteer or stood aloft on a car. Hence, even for criminals who deserved extreme and exemplary punishment, there arose a feeling of compassion; for it was not, as it seemed, for the public good, but to glut one man's cruelty, that they were being destroyed.

Below is Suetonius, in his The Lives of the Twelve Caesars, writing about the reign of Claudius:

He forbade men of foreign birth to use the Roman names so far as those of the clans were concerned. Those who usurped the privileges of Roman citizenship he executed in the Esquiline field. He restored to the senate the provinces of Achaia and Macedonia, which Tiberius had taken into his own charge. He deprived the Lycians of their independence because of deadly intestine feuds, and restored theirs to the Rhodians, since they had given up their former faults. He allowed the people of Ilium perpetual exemption from tribute, on the ground that they were the founders of the Roman race, reading an ancient letter of the senate and people of Rome written in Greek to king Seleucus, in which they promised him their friendship and alliance only on condition that he should keep their kinsfolk of Ilium free from every burden. Since the Jews constantly made disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus, he expelled them from Rome

If you want to read a well-written, well-researched, popular and accessible book on Jesus by a reputable scholar, it would be difficult to do better than reading N.T. Wright's Simply Jesus, which was published in 2011. This book does not merely succeed at being critical, but faithful, it is faithful because it is critical, respecting the fact set forth by St. Paul: "nobody speaking by the spirit of God says, 'Jesus be accursed.' And no one can say, 'Jesus is Lord,' except by the holy Spirit" (1 Cor. 12:3).

No matter where one stands in reference to Jesus, it's time to overcome the relentless, and relentlessly ahistorical, reduction of Jesus of Nazareth. Simply dealing with Jesus, as Wright notes at the beginning of his book, requires a certain amount of complexity precisely because Jesus is real and not some two-dimensional figure from a bad historical novel.

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."