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CERTAIN authors, attempting to propose a modern
conception of hell, have departed from traditional
doctrine. They hold that the damned are not all
absolutely perverted, that not all are guilty of hating
God. In these cases, then, pain of loss and of sense
would not be as severe as theologians generally affirm.
Such authors have not reflected sufficiently on the
distinction between the road and the goal. They do not
reflect that these separated souls undergo a total
privation of God, of all goods which flow from the
beatific vision, and also of those created goods given
as means to reach God.
These authors, further, have not reflected sufficiently
on the nature of obstinacy, and its relation to
infinite justice. They lose sight of what the greatest
doctors have said on the finality of hell. They ignore
the imprescriptible rights of the sovereign good to be
loved above all things: rights which are emphasized in
the visions granted to saints. [311]
Question: Is it proper in our own age to preach on
hell? We answer thus: first, it is certainly better to
go to God by the way of love than that of fear. The
redemptive Incarnation invites us continually to the
way of love. But fear is today a necessary element of
salvation, just as surely as it was when the Fathers
preached the gospel. We conclude, with the author of
the article on hell in the Dictionnaire de theologique
"Preachers must indeed omit all purely imaginary
descriptions. The simple truth is sufficient. But to
keep systematic silence on any portion of Christian
teaching, particularly on forethought for our last end,
is to ignore radically the spirit of Christianity. This
life is a road, which ends inevitably either in hell or
in heaven." [312]
Further, our Lord deigns frequently to give privileged
souls a higher knowledge of hell, by contemplation, or
by vision, imaginary or intellectual, in order to carry
them on to greater hatred of sin, to growth in charity,
to more burning zeal for the salvation of souls. It is
sufficient here to recall the visions. Like St.
Theresa, many saints were thus illumined by contrast,
on the infinite greatness of God and the value of
eternal life.
St. Theresa speaks thus: "I often ask myself how it
came that pictures of hell did not lead me to fear
these pains as they deserve. Now I feel a killing pain
at sight of the multitudes who are lost. This vision
was one of the greatest graces the Lord has given me.
From it arise also these vehement desires to be useful
to souls. Yes, I say it with all truth: to deliver one
soul from these terrible torments, I would gladly, it
seems to me, endure death a thousand times." [313]
Our Lord said to St. Catherine of Siena: [314] "The
first suffering which the damned endure is that they
are deprived of seeing Me. This suffering is so great
that, [315] if it were possible, they would choose to
endure fire and torments, if they could in the meantime
enjoy My vision, rather than to be delivered from other
sufferings without being able to see Me. This pain is
increased by a second, that of the worm of conscience,
which torments them without cessation. Thirdly, the
view of the demon redoubles their sufferings, because,
seeing him in all his ugliness, they see what they
themselves are, and thus see clearly that they
themselves have merited these chastisements. The fourth
torment which the damned endure is that of fire, a fire
which burns but does not consume. Further, so great is
the hate which possesses them that they cannot will
anything good. Continually they blaspheme Me. They can
no longer merit. Those who die in hate, guilty of
mortal sin, enter a state which lasts forever."
These vivid descriptions confirm the traditional
doctrines. They show by contrast the value of eternal
life, and the value of the time of merit, which is
given to us to attain that life. [316]
Fear of God's chastisements is salutary, though it
diminishes with the growth of charity. The more the
saints love God, the more they fear to be separated
from Him. This filial fear is a gift of the Holy
Spirit. It makes hope perfect. It spurs us on to desire
God still more strongly, and at the same time it
bridles presumption.
A good theologian, Father Gardeil, O.P., in his book,
The Gifts of the Holy Spirit among the Dominican
Saints, speaks as follows: "Christianity has the honor
of transfiguring human passions. Now is there any
passion more difficult to rehabilitate than fear? Who
dares to defend it? Who would undertake this task in
our own time, ruled by a moral code which is founded on
human respect? Mere human philosophy has but one fear,
not to elevate itself enough." [317]
For these moralists, nothing will do except a doctrine
completely filled with disinterestedness.
Disinterestedness is the watchword. What! Admit that
man sometimes suffers fear? That with this passion he
spurns himself to good? Oh what shame! No! Let us
conceal this misery. Let it not soil our serene
ordinances. Let us suppress its very name.
"Only the divine Spirit will rehabilitate fear. The
fear adopted by the Holy Spirit has nothing in common
with mundane fear. It is not a fear of man; it is the
fear of God. 'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of
wisdom.' And the Council of Trent, underlining a long
tradition of Christian centuries, declares that even
the fear of divine punishments is good and salutary."
But filial fear, the fear of sin, the fear of being
separated from God, is evidently still higher in
nature. It is a gift of the Holy Spirit. It grows with
charity. The saints, who know not how to tremble before
men, have this holy fear of God. As Father Gardeil
says: "The Stoic, fearing nothing, is but an infant
beside the saint who fears God alone. The saint
represents human morality made divine by God's
revelation." St. Louis Bertrand, missionary, who defied
the stones and arrows, who ardently desired martyrdom,
still feared God: "Lord, burn me here, cut me here,
spare me not here, that Thou mayest spare me in
eternity." [318]
God speaks by the prophet: "Turn to Me, . . . and I
will turn to you." The soul answers him with Jeremias:
"Convert us, O Lord, to thee, and we shall be
converted." [319] We can find no better words to
express the sweetness of conversion. The response of
the soul is more beautiful than the divine exhortation,
because the divine voice was heard in order to obtain
this response, just as the word of Jesus to the
Cananean woman was meant to inspire her answer. The
sweetness of conversion balances the rigor of the
dogma.
The Three Species of Fear
Before we begin the treatise on purgatory, we must
dwell briefly on the three kinds of fear. One kind is
bad. The two others are good, but so distinct, one from
the other, that growth in charity reduces the one and
augments the other.
Fear, in general, is a shrinking of the soul faced by
grave danger. When fear is a mere emotion, it must be
dominated by the virtue of fortitude. But fear can
exist also in the spiritual will, and can be either
good or evil.
Hence theologians distinguish three kinds of fear.
First, there is mundane fear, which fears the
opposition of the world and turns the soul away from
God. Secondly, servile fear, fear of the punishments
which God many inflict. This fear is useful for
salvation. Thirdly, there is filial fear, a fear of
sin, which grows with love of God, and which continues
to exist in heaven under the form of reverential fear.
Let us see what St. Thomas [320] teaches us on these
three kinds of fear.
In mundane fear, the fear of temporal evils which the
world may bring upon us, the soul is ready to offend
God in order to escape these evils. This fear appears
in many forms: human respect, culpable timidity,
slavery to the judgments of the world. Under this fear
the soul may neglect Mass on Sunday, Communion at
Easter, the duty of confession. Loss of situation may
follow faithfulness. Under the form of cowardice, it
can lead a man to deny his faith, to avoid the loss of
exterior good or of personal liberty or of life itself.
Jesus says: "Fear ye not them that kill the body and
are not able to kill the soul. But rather fear Him that
can destroy both soul and body in hell." [321] Again He
says: "What is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole
world and lose himself and cast away himself? For he
that shall be ashamed of Me and of My words, of him the
Son of man shall be ashamed, when He shall come in His
majesty and that of His Father and of the holy angels."
[322]
Mundane fear, then, is always bad. We must pray God to
deliver us from it. Those who regard the fear of God as
an ignoble sentiment are ruled by mundane fear. Fear
which shrinks from Holy Mass reverses all values,
because the Mass perpetuates sacramentally the
sacrifice of the cross, which has infinite value.
Assistance at Mass is great honor and great profit,
both for time and for eternity.
Servile fear differs very much from mundane fear. It is
not fear of persecution by the world, but the fear of
punishment by God. This fear is good, since it leads
the soul to fulfill the divine commandments. This fear
is meant when the Old Testament is called the Law of
Fear, whereas the New Testament is called the Law of
Love. But this fear, in itself good, can still become
bad, if the soul avoids sin only to escape punishment.
Such a soul would sin, if it did not fear eternal
punishment. In this last case fear is servilely
servile. It has mere fear of God, no love. It is evil.
It cannot exist with charity, the love of God above all
things. [323]
But when this fear is not servilely servile, it is
good, it aids the sinner to approach God. But even thus
it is not a virtue, not a gift of the Holy Spirit. It
is, says St. Catherine of Siena, [324] like a storm
which strikes the sinner down. It is insufficient for
salvation, but it can lead to virtue. Thus, during a
tempest at sea, the sailor may remember to pray. Even
if he is in mortal sin, he prays as well as he can,
moved by the actual grace, which is given under all
such circumstances.
In the just man, servile fear can continue throughout
life, but it grows less with the progress of charity.
The more we love God, the more does selfishness
diminish. The more we love God, the more do we hope to
be recompensed by God. But servile fear, fear of divine
punishment, can certainly not exist in heaven.
Filial fear differs very much from the two preceding
kinds. It is the fear of a son, not that of a hireling
or a servant. It is a fear, not of the punishments of
God, but of sin which separates us from God. It differs
therefore essentially from servile fear, and still more
from mundane fear.
This filial fear is not only good, like servile fear:
rather it is a gift of the Holy Spirit. "Pierce Thou my
flesh," says the Psalmist, "with Thy fear, O Lord."
[325] This filial fear, though it is the least elevated
of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, is nevertheless
the beginning of wisdom. It is true wisdom to fear sin,
which drives us far from God. Filial fear corresponds
to the beatitude of the poor in spirit, of those who
fear the Lord and therefore already possess Him.
Whereas servile fear diminishes with progress in
charity, filial fear grows continually, because the
more we love God, the more we fear sin and separation
from Him. The seven gifts are connected with charity
and all other infused virtues. These gifts are the
varied functions of our spiritual organism. Hence they
all grow simultaneously just as "the five fingers of
the hand develop simultaneously." [326]
St. Catherine of Siena says that, with progress in
charity, filial fear grows until mundane fear
disappears completely. The apostles, after Pentecost,
began to glory in their tribulations. They rejoiced in
being judged worthy to suffer for our Lord. Before the
Ascension, feeling acutely their own impotency, they
feared the persecutions our Lord had foretold. On
Pentecost they were clarified, fortified, confirmed in
grace.
Filial fear in heaven is called reverential fear. "The
fear of the Lord is holy, enduring forever and ever."
[327] Thus the psalm. It will no longer be fear of sin,
fear of being separated from God, but deep reverence.
Seeing the infinite grandeur of the Most High, the soul
sees its own nothingness and fragility. God is reality
itself. "Ego sum qui sum." In this sense, as we sing in
the preface, even the Powers tremble. This gift of
reverential fear exists even in the holy soul of our
Savior, just as do the other gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Reverential fear appears in the saints even in the
present life. When St. Peter, after the first
miraculous catch of fishes, came to Jesus, he said:
"Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." [328]
It is then that Jesus said to him: "Fear not, from
henceforth thou shall catch men." And Peter, James, and
John left everything to follow Him.
We see how different these three kinds of fear are one
from the other. Mundane fear is always bad. The fear of
suffering is good, if it does not become servilely
servile, if it does not dispose us to sin. Filial fear
is always good. It grows with charity as do the other
gifts of the Holy Spirit and continues to exist in
heaven as reverential fear. Lord, deliver us from
mundane fear, diminish in us servile fear, augment in
us filial fear.
This distinction is not owing to human psychology. To
arrive at these distinctions we need revelation,
expression of divine wisdom.
Certain authors, as we have seen, teach a moral system
based completely on disinterestedness, which neither
fears divine punishment nor desires recompense. They
blush to admit that at times they suffer this passion
of fear, for such admission would upset their doctrine.
[329]
It belongs to the Holy Spirit to rehabilitate fear.
[330] And this in three ways: in condemning human
respect; in showing that fear of punishment is good;
and especially in showing that filial fear is a fear of
separation from God, and consequently a supernatural
gift which grows simultaneously with charity. This last
species of fear inspired the saints' lives of
reparation to obtain the conversion of sinners. St.
Dominic nightly scourged himself to blood, in favor of
sinners to whom he was preaching. This same holy fear
inspired the mortifications of St. Catherine of Siena,
of St. Rose of Lima, and of many other saints. But
there is something higher than filial fear, even in its
highest forms in heaven. Christian doctrine recognizes
the pre-eminent place of charity, of love for God and
for neighbor, that corresponds to the divine precepts.
Read the description of this love in The Imitation of
Christ. [331]
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