“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 13th century. And that’s what I hear Christ telling us today.
