Condemned already: Making our own Hell

“Whoever believes in Him is not condemned,

but whoever does not believe is condemned already …”

--John 3: 16-18

I’ve been think about Dante again.  The Divine Comedy is always on my mind, it seems. The wisdom and the beauty of that great poem do feel truly “divine” sometimes, and the lessons I have learned by reading and rereading it have scarred my life. I say that only half-jokingly, because my experience of Dante now colors almost everything I read or do or learn. His poem seems to be (for me) a kind of guide or spiritual master that teaches me not only about the beauty of language and poetry and reason, but also how to read and finally how to live.

In the poem, Dante travels through the three zones or stages of the afterlife: Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise.  Guided for most of his journey by the poet Virgil, Dante is given the chance to see the eternal state of souls (damned and blessed) as a way of saving his own. While he is travelling through Hell, one of the many souls Dante meets is Bertran de Born, a man who carries his own head before him as if it were a lantern.  Like many of the souls Dante meets, Bertran de Born is based on an actual person; in life he was a warrior and poet who advised the son of a king to go to war against his father. For that reason (dividing things that should be united) the poet depicts him walking through Hell with his head divided from his body.  This sounds like “poetic justice,” and in Dante it receives the name “contrapasso.”  But the key to Dante isn’t found in the words of a damned soul.  It isn’t even found coming from the mouth of Virgil, the poem’s seemingly timeless voice of reason who guides Dante down through the levels of Hell and then up the mountain of Purgatory. Virgil is the voice of God's justice. He explains to Dante the legalese of eternal damnation. And for so many readers of Dante there is a willingness to trust Virgil's explanation of everything. Because Virgil makes Hell seem so reasonable.  However, the problem with Virgil as Dante's guide to God's eternal judgment is that Virgil doesn't understand God's love, God's grace.  Because God's grace is beyond reason.  So, we look again at this passage from John's Gospel and we pay careful attention to not just what it seems to say, but what it actually says:

“…whoever does not believe is condemned already …”

Whoever does not believe is already condemned already.  Harsh words, it seems.  We don’t like to hear of condemnation –it sounds judgmental and merciless to our modern ear.  But, consider for a moment what it might mean that the non believer might be condemned already.  What could that mean? Does that mean they are beyond God's mercy? But what if that person started believing next month or next week or tomorrow morning? Would they still be condemned?  That doesn't make sense? And it doesn't fit with what we see of Jesus in the gospels. Jesus calls people to conversion and change and redemption.  And no one seems beyond His mercy and love. Think about the tax collectors and sinners Jesus has dinner with, or the centurion with the sick slave, or the woman caught in adultery... Jesus tells us Himself that He didn't come to call the righteous, but the sinners (Mark 2: 17).  So what does He mean when He says those who don't believe are condemned already?

I think we can see a powerful depiction of this condemnation in Dante's vision of Hell.  The souls in Dante’s Hell (his Inferno) are not depicted as simply suffering some horrible --yet poetically apt-- punishment for their sins, but as still (and eternally) pursuing them.  The lustful are seen eternally caught in the wild winds of desire, the gluttons are eternally wallowing in the excess of their appetite, the wrathful eternally enraged, the thieves continue to steal, gossips to gossip, traitors to betray, etc etc.  I think what Dante is depicting for us is the fact that sin is Hell; sin doesn’t just bring condemnation, it is its own condemnation. Looking at Dante in this light, I begin to understand that quite possibly Hell isn’t a place; it is a state of being.  It is a choice we make.  It is found in who we become. When we choose selfishness over generosity, when we choose cruelty over kindness, when we choose coldness and isolation over vulnerability and a willingness to reach out to others we choose sin; and when we choose sin we choose unbelief; and when we do that we condemn ourselves to a Hell of our own making. Because despite what Mr. Sartre said, Hell isn’t found in "other people," it’s found in how we respond to them. Every time we turn away from someone who needs us, our hearts grow a little bit harder, a little bit colder.  And if you happen to read Dante, you will understand that a cold cold hard heart corresponds exactly with what the poet finds at the very core of Hell.  Despite what reason might tell us, our condemnation isn’t a punishment imposed upon us to satisfy some eternal justice; our condemnation (or not) is a choice we make every day. We can open our hearts, go forth, share the gifts God has given us and become a blessing, or we can... cling to our safety and security and treasures and make our own private Hell.  That’s what I find depicted in that beautiful strange poem written by that oddly prescient Italian poet from the 13^th century.  And that’s what I hear Christ telling us today. 

Some thoughts on Romans 1-2

“It is yourself you condemn when you judge others…” –Romans 2:1b

“…persevering in doing good…” –Romans 2:7b

During his March 5 Angelus address, Pope Francis recommended that Christians turn to the Bible when we are engaged in spiritual battle.  Even asking what if we turned to a little pocket Bible as often as we turned to our mobile phones.

Okay! I take the bait.  I’ve begun reading Paul’s letter to the Romans for my Lenten reading. The choice was very happenstance, as far as that goes. I had begun to read Jeremiah on my own, but the Bible group I study with voted to read Romans, therefore that is what I will read –partly in preparation for the study group, but most definitely for my own contemplation and spiritual growth.

And so, here is my first meditation on Paul’s longest letter.

In the opening chapters there is a striking element. Paul develops an image in chapter one of God’s wrath not as a judgment imposed upon sinners, but as a natural consequence of their rejection of God.  Because they reject Him, God abandons them “to degrading passions” and “unacceptable thoughts and indecent behavior” (cf. 1: 26-32). Chapter 1 builds to a crescendo in intensity as Paul proclaims that though these sinners are “well aware of God’s ordinance[s]” they not only choose to behave in degrading ways, but “applaud others who do the same” (1:32).   So, on some level we are being primed to anticipate a statement of how these figures should be treated by the Christian community.  And perhaps that is exactly what we get at the beginning of chapter 2, when Paul warns us: “It is yourself you condemn when you judge others…”

It fascinates me that a somewhat detailed description of sin and depravity is followed by a warning against judging. It fascinates me because it seems to me Paul is making a powerful statement not about sin and judgment, but about God’s generosity and mercy.  Where we might expect Paul to recommend casting out the sinner, or avoiding the sin, etc, he instead admonishes us to avoid judging others, lest we condemn ourselves.  And he reminds us that God’s generosity is “meant to bring you to repentance” (cf.2:4b).  This reminder and admonition, call us to humble ourselves not just before the saints, but also before the sinners. Perhaps, especially before the sinners. We must treat them generously and with compassion –if we would be children of the generous and merciful God.  If we would be the body of Christ.  Because by our compassion and generosity perhaps we will become –even for a moment-- a sign –an icon-- for someone, of God’s great love.

The last thing that struck me in this beautifully rich very early passage from Paul’s letter is his note about those who aim for “glory and honor and immortality by persevering in doing good…” in verse 7.  Coming right after his admonition about judging and his comment about God’s generosity, I was struck by the thought: How do I know who is “persevering in doing good?”  I may have no idea what the good is that you are doing? And I certainly can’t know how much it costs you to persevere in that effort.  Perhaps the good you are doing is to be gentle with a difficult boss, perhaps it is to walk away when others begin to gossip, or to quiet yourself at the end of the day and bow down on your knees before God and simply put your trust in His generous love and mercy. I do not know. I cannot know your heart. And perhaps the good you persevere in will look to the world like nothing but wasted effort and failure. But, again –who am I to judge? I’m sure that a death on the cross looked like failure to a lot of 1^st century Romans and Jews.