Does hell exist?

Read I Timothy 2:1-7

One of my theology teachers once asked me during an oral exam: “Does God want everyone to be saved? Or does God want some to be saved and some to be damned?” I spontaneously responded: “God wants everyone to be saved.” He then asked: “Is that in the Bible?” I said that I thought it was. “Where?” he asked.

So I proceeded to speak of the promise of salvation made to Adam and Eve, and argued that since Adam and Eve represented all of humanity, then that promise is for all people. And what God promises is God’s will. My teacher said: “There’s a clearer answer than that.”

So I spoke about the fact that, in Abraham, all nations are blessed. And since all nations includes all people, then all people fall under God’s blessing. So God must want all people to be saved. My teacher said: “There’s a clearer answer than that.”

So I described the evolution in the thought of the prophets who, over the centuries, moved towards a universalist perspective in their understanding of God, culminating with the prophet Isaiah who saw Israël as being sent to the nations so that the nations would be converted. So God must want all people to be converted and be saved. My teacher said: “There’s a clearer answer than that.”

So I recalled Christ’s words on the night before he died, when he said a blessing over the cup, announcing that his death would seal a new covenant in which his blood would be poured for the forgiveness of the sins “of the multitude”, which is a semitic expression meaning “of all.” So Jesus’ death on the cross was for all people, and God therefore wants all people to be saved. And my teacher said: “There’a a clearer answer than that.”

And I finally gave in, admitted my ignorance, and asked him “Where?” And he pointed to the text we are reading today, 1 Timothy 2:3: “God our Saviour desires everyone to be saved.” And I agreed, there couldn’t be an answer much clearer than that!

So it is not part of God’s plan that anyone be damned. Hell is not part of God’s plan. Hell is a human invention, a consequence of people’s refusal to accept God’s plan of salvation for them. We start creating hells around us when we turn away from God, when we close in on our own petty lives in selfishness and pride. We start preparing for ourselves an everlasting hell when we choose this turning away, this closing in, as our ultimate way of being. And this everlasting hell is pure loneliness, ultimate aloneness.

This is not God’s will for us. It is not God’s will for any of us. And, deep down, it is not our will for ourselves. So let us open ourselves to God’s will, now, today, and for always. For God wants nothing less than each man’s and each woman’s happiness, both now and for eternity.

Holy Cross Fathers' Retreat, Lac Simon

Truly spectacular!

Read Hebrews 12:18-24

We love spectacle. Bright lights, vibrant sounds, strong emotions, velocity, action. I remember my first visit to a carnival: the speed of the rides, the noise and rush of the music, the voices calling out for our attention, the bitter-sweet taste of the candied apples. And I remember seeing Niagara Falls for the first time: the overwhelming flow of water cascading over the cliffs, the deafening roar of the water as it plummeted down to what seemed a huge cauldron of swirling whitecaps and mist. Yes, we love spectacle.

And we seek it out. We want our parties to be bold, brash and boisterous. We want our movies to be loud and lively. We want our cars to shine, our gardens to glisten, our clothes to flash. Our civilization seems to be built on spectacle. We seem to come alive when our senses our overwhelmed, overcharged and bedazzled.

Yet, the most important things in life seem to be the quietest and humblest of all. We can be touched — more deeply than we care to admit — by a sleeping baby, by a starry night, by a quiet lake. In the simplicity of a touch, the depth of love can be shared. A simple rose can best express sympathy in face of tragedy. A song by a campfire can make us touch eternity.

Spectacle pulls us away from ourselves. It seems as if the sounds and sights and tastes and sensations, as they rush in on us, need to make space for themselves within us... and they do this by shoving and casting aside the core of who we are. We are not only invaded by the spectacle, we lose ourselves in it. We cease to be. Only the spectacle remains.

Perhaps this is why we love spectacle so much: we are not aware of the awesome mystery that abides within our very selves. We do not mind losing the core of who we are, for we do not know the value of that core, what the ancients called the “soul.”

Yet, is it not from the soul that love arises, that thought is shaped, that imagination takes flight? And is it not in the soul that we encounter, not only ourselves, but the God who shaped us and gave us life?

In today’s lesson, the author of the letter to the Hebrews recognizes that, in coming to know God in Jesus Christ, there is not much that is spectacular. No fiery mountain or violent storm or vibrant music, no voice to make us shudder and tremble. There is only the silence of the Cross on a lonely hill on a Friday afternoon. There is only the quietness of an empty tomb. There is only the fleeting breeze of the Spirit’s presence.

And yet, as we learn to tear ourselves from our need of the spectacular and come to accept the mystery of our souls, we move towards a reality even more awesome than anything we could ever imagine: millions of angels in celebration, an immense crowd of witnesses, the souls of all the just. We move towards the God who gave us life, and the Christ who led us into that life. And what is most astounding, we find our very selves.

Training dogs or raising children?

Read Hebrews 12:5-13

I once watched a man as he trained his dogs. He would reward them when they did well and punish them when they did not. This seemed to work well with his dogs. I suppose it works well with most animals. It probably works to a certain extent even with children. But can it lead boys and girls to maturity and autonomy, to true loving relationships with their parents? Such children might be well-behaved, just like well-trained dogs. But will they discover insight and learn wisdom?

Too many people believe that God is some sort of animal trainer, rewarding good actions and punishing evil ones. Too many people believe that the bad things that happen to them are sent by God either as a punishment or as a warning. Certainly, this is the way many of the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures seemed to think. But after the Holocaust of the Second World War in which six million of God’s chosen people were put to death simply because of one man’s hatred, can we still see God this way? What could God have been punishing them for? What warning could God have been giving that needed six million deaths? Many people became atheists when they learned of this horror. They were probably right to stop believing in such a God.

Such a sadistic God is not the God of Jesus Christ. Jesus never spoke of God as a trainer, but as a father. A true parent wants more than well-behaved children. A true parent wants children who have insight and wisdom. A true parent goes beyond punishment and reward, striving instead to teach and to encourage.

One can read today’s lesson from the perspective of God as a trainer who “corrects” his wayward children by playing on their fears. From such a perspective, one can see poverty as God’s chastisement, or hurricanes as God’s warning, or AIDS as God’s condemnation.

Or one can read today’s lesson from the perspective of God as a parent who “corrects” his wayward children by taking them aside and speaking to their hearts, enlightening them with his Word, giving them a Spirit of strength so that they can find peace and justice.

Only this second perspective can explain how this passage can end with such words of encouragement: “Give strength to faltering hands; Straighten the path so that the lame will not stumble.” These words speak of a loving, encouraging God. This is a God whose “lessons” we will seek, for we know that, in them, we will find insight and wisdom.

These words also invite us to deal with one another in the same way: not with rewards and punishment, but with support, faithfulness and patience. Perhaps this is the way we also need to deal with our children.

From the indicative flows the imperative

Read Colossians 3:1-11

Studying grammar in elementary school, I learned the difference between the indicative and the imperative moods. The first, as its name suggests, "indicates" the way things are. It is used to describe, to announce, to tell: “You sing. She spoke. He will run away.” The second is used to direct, to order, to compel: “Sing! Speak! Flee!”

Paul’s letters are usually divided into two parts. In the first, Paul teaches, proclaims, explains. This is the indicative mood of Paul’s writing. The second part of his letters gives way to the imperative mood: he commands, ordains, directs. It is important for the readers of Paul’s letters to always remember when they are reading the second part of his letters that they grow out of the first part. His commands and directions are always the consequence of the Good News he has proclaimed in the first part. 

All too often, Christians rush to the second part of the letters. They tend to focus on the does and don’ts of the Christian life. All too often, non-Christians only see in Christianity this list of what to them seem stifling rules and regulations. Yet the heart of the Christian life lies in the Good News to be found in the first part of Paul’s letters. And without this Good News, the moral life to which Christians are called is but an empty shell, at times even a straight-jacket. 

In the first part of his letter to the Colossians, Paul has been teaching his readers that Christ has conquered every power and that they share in that victory. Now, in the second part, he tells them how to live in that victory and freedom. He shows his readers how to grow in the power of Christ and how to tap into that power in order to be freed from all slavery. When we remember the first part of the letter, the second part becomes a joyful invitation to live fully, deeply and freely! 

One note: Paul here contrasts “the things of heaven” with “the things of earth.” We tend to think that Paul is calling us away from “secular” reality to focus on the “sacred.” Such an interpretation does not correspond to Paul's way of thinking. This "secular-sacred" split does not come from him, but from us. And this split tends to devalue the reality of our daily lives, our work and our play, as if only "churchy" things have true value. Yet there is a way of working and playing that make both beautiful, meaningful and sacred. Our daily interactions with others can be full of God’s presence. Of course, they can also lead us away from God: it’s all in the way we approach reality. 

When Paul invites us to “put to death whatever is earthly,” he is not asking us to refrain from earning a living or enjoying the good things of creation or loving others. He is asking us to do this in a way that opens up our daily reality to the power of Christ’s Spirit: this is “setting our minds on things that are above.” Discovering the secret to doing this allows Christ to be “all in all!”

Life: a cruise or a crossing?

Read Hebrews 11:1-19

We do not know who wrote the letter to the Hebrews, nor where the people to whom this letter is addressed actually lived. What is clear is that these people had a deep knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures and were probably members of Jewish communities who came to recognize Jesus as Son of God. We also know that they were being persecuted.

This is the context out of which is born one of the more beautiful passages of Scripture. The eleventh chapter of the letter to the Hebrews presents a reflection on the nature of faith, giving us a definition which has withstood the test of time: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

The text goes on to illustrate this definition by presenting various individuals from the Hebrew Scriptures (what Christians call the Old Testament) who were known for the depth of their faith: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac, Moses and others.

As we read the letter, we realize that the people to whom it was originally written were suffering persecution because of their attachment to Jesus-Christ. The author of the letter goes to great pains to encourage them in perseverance and faithfulness. Reflecting on the example of their ancestors reminds them that they are not alone, that they are not the first to have endured hardships, that they stand in the line of men and women who held on to the truth without wavering.

Many of us count among our ancestors men and women who left their native land to emigrate to a world unknown to them. Leaving all possessions, crossing oceans for an unknown shore, starting over in a land where everything needed to be done, they certainly showed themselves to be possessed of that “assurance of things hoped for,” of that “conviction of things not seen” which Scripture calls faith.

Today, many of us enjoy holidays on cruise ships that go around in a circle, stopping here and there to satisfy our curiosity for things new and unusual. We complain quickly if the service is inadequate, if the food is not to our liking, if the weather does not cooperate. How different is this from the crossing our ancestors made, often in terrible conditions, yet with hope in their hearts. Do we live our lives as if we were on a cruise, simply for the enjoyment of it, quick to curse the difficulties of the day? Or do we understand ourselves to be on a journey, a crossing towards our ultimate home?

Our ancestors' journey towards a new land can be for us a symbol of life itself. For we all journey towards a promised land that has been gained for us through Jesus the Christ. Faith allows us to endure all manner of struggle and trial, for we know that, in the end, all things work out for the good of those who love God. May the faith that emboldened the readers of the letter to the Hebrews shine forth in our own lives still today.

Waters of death and life

Read Colossians 2:6-14

Water is a beautiful and dangerous thing. Without it, we die. And so we fear the desert, drought, thirst. On the other hand, too much water is devastating. And so we fear floods, storms at sea, a tippy canoe. The waters of birth can sometimes become the waters of death.

This two-sided nature of water is present in the story of Moses leading the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt. The Sea of Reeds, when they first came to it, seemed to them an obstacle to their liberty. Yet this obstacle became the very means of freedom as God opened the sea to let the Hebrews pass dry-shod. The sea closed over the Egyptians, becoming for them a tomb. Both life and death can be found in water.

John the Baptist called people to be plunged in water as a sign of their need to be washed from their sins. Like a New Year’s resolution, John’s baptism allowed a person to express his or her desire to die to the past and live for the future, to make a clean break and start over again. We think of the sinner’s prayer in Psalm 51: “Lord, wash me thoroughly of my iniquity, cleanse me from my sin.” And we remember the Lord’s answer in Ezekiel 36: “I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleanness… I will put my spirit within you… You shall be my people, and I will be your God.”

For Christians, baptism is even more than the expression of our need for purification and our desire for change. In his letter to the Romans, probably written around the year 57, Paul describes baptism as being plunged into the death of Christ so that, one day, we might rise with him to new life. With Christ, we have died to sin in order that we might live for love, for grace.

In his letter to the Colossians, which most specialists believe was written five years later, Paul’s thought goes even further: our resurrection is already accomplished, because in baptism we have put our faith in the One by whose power Christ was raised. Already, that power, which we know as Christ’s Spirit, is active within us, transforming us into the likeness of Christ, making us sons and daughters of God!

In a very real sense, Christian life is all about catching up with the reality that has already taken hold of us. Baptism is not only something that happened to us in the past, it is an act whose consequences spread out in our daily lives like waves from a rock thrown into a pool. Certainly it is true to say “On such a date in the past was I baptized.” Yet it is perhaps truer to say: “I AM baptized. More today than yesterday. Less today than tomorrow.”

Into the mystery

Read Colossians 1:24-28

When we really stop to consider what we mean by “God,” our words fall short, our imaginations stumble, our concepts fail. We are like an old pocket calculator which, when faced with a calculation that exceeds its capabilities, flashes “Does not compute.” And so we say that God is a “mystery.” Yet, a mystery is not a problem to be solved, however complex – as if the concept of God was just a more complicated version of the general theory of relativity. Rather, a mystery is a reality so all-encompassing that we never stop discovering its depth or its meaning. We are both fascinated and overwhelmed by the mystery of God. This mystery beckons, it calls us to enter into the darkness in order to discover its light and glory.

This was Saint Paul’s experience. Before his encounter with the risen Christ, his knowledge of God was partial and obscured. In accepting Christ’s suffering for him, in accepting the darkness of the Cross, Paul came to discover the brightness of God’s love not only for him, but for the whole world. This is why the struggles of his ministry are an occasion for him to rejoice: for as he enters more deeply into identification with the suffering Jesus, he discovers more fully the life-giving love of God. This is why he can write these strange but wonderful words: “I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake as I complete in my flesh what is lacking in Christ’s own suffering for the sake of his body, the Church.”

Through the struggles of his ministry, the rejection and suffering he experiences because of his faith, Paul comes to a greater understanding and experience of the depth of God’s own love for all people. This is the “mystery” into which we can all enter, “Christ among us, the hope of glory.” And Paul can only invite us to enter into this mystery ourselves, so that we will all grow into the fullness of this glory. For Paul, this is the great mission in his life, the great task he has accepted and for which he is willing to suffer and die.

People who truly know what it means to love also know that love is often costly and painful. It requires us to die to ourselves in order that others might come to greater life. A parent who suffers for his or her child’s sake; a spouse who gives all in caring for a wife or husband; a social worker who cries over the pains of a broken family; a nurse or doctor who is torn by the ravages of a patient’s disease: all these enter into the dark mystery which, when lived in love, somehow opens up into light. The “mystery” which has been hidden from all times then becomes our meaning and our hope.

Outside of love, the pains and struggles of this life can only drain and empty us. Encompassed by love, they become a way of knowing the mystery of God, of entering that mystery, of being upheld and embraced by that mystery. This was Paul’s experience of Christ. May it also be ours.