Who can live with the consuming fire? (3rd week of Advent)

“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.

Struggling with strange passages: Reading with four-fold eyes

“But the Lord made Pharaoh stubborn,

And he refused to let them [Israel] go.”

–Exodus 10:27

When dealing with difficult scripture passages, one of the approaches that has been used since almost the beginning of Christianity is to read it in what is sometimes called the four-fold method.  This method seeks meaning in scripture on more than one level. It looks at a passage and seeks one (or more) of four different meanings in the passage: literal, allegorical, moral & anagogical.  Here is a clear demonstration of this method offered by Dante (in a letter describing how his Divine Comedy should be read).

“A first sense derives from the letters themselves, and a second from the things signified by the letters. We call the first sense "literal" sense, the second the "allegorical", or "moral" or "anagogical". To clarify this method of treatment, consider this verse: When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a barbarous people: Judea was made his sanctuary, Israel his dominion (Psalm 113). Now if we examine the letters alone, the exodus of the children of Israel from Egypt in the time of Moses is signified; in the allegory, our redemption accomplished through Christ; in the moral sense, the conversion of the soul from the grief and misery of sin to the state of grace; in the anagogical sense, the exodus of the holy soul from slavery of this corruption to the freedom of eternal glory. they can all be called allegorical.”

With this in mind, I was wondering: how would this method help me in my reading of Exodus? Especially those troubling passages about God and Pharaoh; i.e. how does Pharaoh’s hardened heart look when read through this lens?

“But the Lord made Pharaoh stubborn,

And he refused to let them [Israel] go.”

–Exodus 10:27

How would one apply the four-fold method to reading this passage?  Literal, allegorical, moral, anagogical? 

So –let’s put it to the test:

                Literally, the Pharaoh was obstinate and would not let the Israelites leave –but what is the lesson we are to learn from this literal reading?  Is it that God bestows his mercy and love as He will and thus Pharaoh –in his sinfulness and ignorance—became even more obstinate simply because God’s grace did not or was not opened to him? Possibly because Pharaoh wasn’t open to it, or possibly because God chose not to open Pharaoh’s heart. However, a lesson we might learn from this literal reading is this: we cannot know God’s will or God’s plan and so perhaps we shouldn’t be judging anyone; not even the Pharaoh or his hardened heart.

Allegorically, Pharaoh is sin and sin often becomes even more obstinate when confronted. Thus we might read into this scene a vision of the Israelites lost in sin (Egypt) and under the control of sin (Pharaoh)— and when God sends help and sin is confronted by God’s message the sinful heart hardens; it grows more obstinate and the sinner appears to fall even more powerfully under sin’s control.

Morally, we see perhaps this: when we confront our sin (or confront sinners), sin may become more emboldened and obstinate; temptations and sinful behaviors may become more present and feel more powerfully in control –refusing to let us go.  And we, slaves to sin, may feel more helpless and unable to escape. But, we must not lose hope. This too may be part of God’s plan.

Anagogical: We are completely in God’s hands –at His mercy—and must put our hope in Him –in His mercy –even when our sin refuses to leave us, even when we feel unable to escape its hold—we must put our hope, our faith, our trust in the mercy of God.  That is our only way –that is the only road out of Egypt, and it  passes right through Calvary.

Yes—for me this is a troubling passage. But troubling isn’t bad. Most of the time, I’m learning, troubling means God is asking me to slow down and pay a little more attention.

Pharaoh’s hardened heart: Another look

“[the Egyptians]…whose hearts He turned to hate His own people,

To treat His servants deceitfully…”

--Psalm 105:25

Psalm 105 is a brief history of ancient Israel, with several verses on the exile and Exodus story.  And in it we come again upon this idea of God making someone obstinate or hateful –for some purpose known only to God. In this image from the Psalm we see God paradoxically turning the hearts of Pharaoh and the Egyptians against His own beloved people. In some unspoken way this turning of the enemy's heart to obstinacy and hate and deceit is presented as necessary for the fulfillment of God's plan; it seems somehow essential for the building up of Israel.  God makes Pharaoh’s heart hard and obstinate, against Pharaoh’s own good and the good of the Egyptians. And God does this (it seems) so that Israel’s ultimate victory can somehow be recognized as even more astonishing; more miraculous.  Israel overcomes her foes who are powerful, obstinately bad, persisting in evil, and who  far outnumber her –but who, in the end, are defeated through God’s miraculous intercession.

But I am left pondering: How is the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart necessary to God’s plan?  Even if this is just a myth (or hyperbole), why did the ancient story teller feel it necessary to put it in these terms? What lesson was God imparting by having His scribes write His story in this way?  If (for instance) God’s hardening of Pharaoh’s heart is a metaphor –then what is it a metaphor of? And what lesson (or insight) was it supposed to teach? What psychological (or spiritual) insight was it intended to reveal?

1.       That God is willful and can do whatever He likes?  Even make our hearts hard and turn our ways to deceit? Sin?  -OR

2.       That God’s plan, the work of a loving God, may even be found in the hardened heart and deceitful ways of our foe…

And, in the end, the key question is: What does a loving God accomplish by changing the hearts of Pharaoh, the Egyptians, all of Israel’s foes “so that they hate His own people?” What is it that He accomplishes through this hardened heart that He couldn’t accomplish otherwise? Why didn’t He change their hearts so that they loved His people?  What part does this hardening of the heart play in God’s plan?  How does it reveal His loving presence?  Those are the questions, the paradox, I am pondering these days. 

Next I want to spend a little time considering this passage, this image, through the lens of the four-fold method; seeking in it the four levels of reading: literal, allegorical, moral & anagogical.