“On Zion sinners are in dread,
trembling grips the impious;
Who of us can live with the consuming fire?
Who of us can live with the everlasting flames?
The one who practices virtue and speaks honestly,
who spurns what is gained by oppression,
who brush their hands free of contact with a bribe,
who stop their ears from hearing of bloodshed,
and shut their eyes to avoid looking on evil...”
--Isaiah 33:13-16
This reading from morning prayer touched me today. And oddly enough, I read it by accident. It wasn’t the reading for this morning –I was
on the wrong page. And yet... isn't that often how God works.
Anyway, the reading merged nicely with a short conversation
I had last night. Shortly before bed, I was talking to a friend who has just
decided to read Dante. She bought her
husband a beautifully illustrated copy of the Commedia and as she looked at the
pictures, she became interested in the poem.
And so, I woke this morning still thinking about our conversation. One thing that troubled her was the question
of whether the poem were true. Had Dante
actually “died” and travelled through Hell and Purgatory and Heaven, then
returned to life to write his poem. Well,
first, in the poem he isn’t dead. He makes his journey through the realms of
the afterlife while still alive but guided by the spirit of the dead poet Vergil.
And, second, I explained to her that as far as I know, the poem had never
seriously been treated as a diary of an actual event. However, I added, that didn’t make it any the
less true.
A mystical vision is another kind of truth –and I compared
Dante’s poem to the visions of Teresa of Avila and Catherine of Siena. Though
Dante is no doctor of the church, it seems to me that the vision contained in
his Commedia is as profound and possibly as theologically valuable as what we
find in the works of many saints and mystics.
And surely that element of the poem must have come from God. But it was getting late and we both needed to
attend to other issues, so we made vague plans to get together someday soon and
continue our discussion of truth and poetry and mystics. Yet, something must
have been left unsettled in my soul; because I woke still thinking about our
discussion.
And then there was this reading:
Who of us can live with the consuming fire?
Who of us can live with the everlasting flames?
Indeed, who of us can?
The consuming fire; the everlasting flame; what a devastating and yet
perfect vision of Hell. Who can live
with that? In Dante we see the suffering
of the damned and often readers are struck by the horror of such punishments;
it is what attracts many new readers to the poem. I know from teaching the poem that often
students are intrigued by the question of justice when discussing the punishments
(Dante’s contrapassos). But then they
almost as quickly turn to the subject of mercy (and loopholes). But what about... what if... What if someone
couldn’t control himself? What about people with psychological problems? What
if someone didn’t know something was wrong?... what about...what if...
But the poem isn’t about punishment (or justice) in a
legalistic way. It’s about freedom and
choices and love. What I read in Dante
is that Hell isn’t a geographic place (on an actual or imaginary map) but a
state of mind, of souls, of heart; it’s a commitment of sorts. Take for instance Canto XXX of the
Inferno. This is a scene of devastating
destruction and the souls within that vision of a kind of “everlasting flame”
dwell not just in dread, but in misery and discord; beating each other,
heckling each other, angering and frustrating one another through and by their every
act, every word, every choice—because they seek not compassion or love, but
only superiority and self-justification.
And yet, what would happen if Mother Teresa were to suddenly find
herself walking amongst these souls?
Would she find herself in the same Hell?
Or would she immediately set about caring for the sick and the helpless;
would she not comfort their pain and distress?
Ease their suffering with her gentle touch. And in her compassion and love, Filled with
love and compassion, she would see not evil but only souls in need. And, filled with love, she would be filled
with God; she would be dwelling fully in His presence and is that not the very
meaning of Heaven? To be fully in the presence of God... So, even as she walked
among those who made themselves damned she –through her love-- would be in a
kind of Heaven.
“Who of us can live with the consuming fire?”
The one who loves. The one who practices virtue. The one who speaks not bitterness and
cruelty; who utters no lie of self-deception and justification but speaks only
truth in utter humility. The one who
stops her ears at words of anger and hatred, who closes his eyes to evil. The one who walks in love...
Heaven is where we make it...
And so is Hell.
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