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sábado, 14 de dezembro de 2013

O Pânico da Misericórdia - por Nuno Serras Pereira



14. 12. 2013
O título que encima este texto parecerá a muitos, senão mesmo a todos, totalmente espiclondrífico, uma vez que sendo a Misericórdia de Deus infinita, concomitantemente se crê que a confiança destemida n’Ela o deverá ser também. Por isso, a Igreja, mormente nos últimos 50 anos, não se cansa, num modo sempre crescente, de a anunciar e praticar. Isso é aliás, sem dúvida alguma, parte essencial e irrenunciável da sua Missão, enquanto prolongamento-presença de Jesus Cristo na história de todos os homens e do homem todo.

No entanto, têm sido esquecidas ou, pelo menos, relegadas para um esconso tão irrelevante e obscuro que não se dá por ele, outras verdades que são fundamentais para uma apreensão das Verdades de Fé, na sua rigorosa hierarquia (o que não significa, de modo nenhum, que qualquer delas seja insignificante ou supérflua). Esta será, porventura, uma das razões que tem levado sua Santidade o Papa Francisco I, a repisar, com uma insistência desusada, a existência do diabo, e a desmascarar as suas artimanhas pestíferas. É caso para dizer, apesar de alguns dizerem que o Santo Padre anda obcecado com o demónio, até que enfim, já não era sem tempo

Não saberei dizer se alguém concordará comigo, uma vez que fazê-lo parece ser uma impossibilidade “metafísica” (ou será meramente “existencial?), mas estou em que também faz falta uma pregação habitual sobre a Justiça de Deus e a possibilidade real da condenação eterna, isto é do Inferno. De facto, tenho deparado demasiadas vezes, ao longo da minha vida, com situações desconcertantes, absurdas, mesmo de uma enorme gravidade, diabólicas. Darei somente um exemplo para ilustrar o que quero significar. Um pai de família, casado e com filhos, já nascidos, leva a sua esposa, mãe grávida, ao “abortadouro dos arcos”. Interpelado pela Leonor aceita conversar. Continua contente e feliz apesar do que a Leonor lhe diz porque “Deus é misericórdia” e, portanto, não faz mal nenhum abortar seu filho “porque Deus perdoa”. Por estas e por outras é que S. Pio de Pietrelcina, mais conhecido por Padre Pio, revelava, ou sentenciava, “Eu tenho mais medo da Misericórdia de Deus do que da Sua Justiça. A Justiça de Deus é conhecida: sabe-se por que leis ela se governa e, se alguém peca e ofende a Justiça Divina, pode apelar à Misericórdia, mas se abusa da Misericórdia a quem poderá recorrer?”.

Se os Santos, como sempre ensinou o Papa Bento XVI, são os melhores intérpretes da Palavra de Deus, de Jesus Cristo, o Verbo de Deus feito carne, para nos Salvar, então será de toda a conveniência levar a sério esta sentença do Santo Padre Pio.

Uma medicina eficaz a que podemos recorrer é a de memorizarmos, meditarmos e rezarmos um Acto de Contrição bem feito. Há muitos anos encontrei um nas obras do P. Manuel Bernardes que me pareceu, como é, excelente. Mais tarde, porém, deparei com um outro, usado em outros países, que pela sua completude e concisão se me afigura que talvez seja ainda de maior proveito para as almas. É o seguinte: “Meu Deus, dói-me de todo o coração ter-Vos ofendido, e detesto todos os meus pecados, porque temo a perda do Céu, e os sofrimentos do Inferno; mas principalmente porque Vos amo, Meu Deus, que sois infinitamente bom e merecedor de todo o meu amor. Com o auxílio da Vossa Graça proponho-me firmemente confessar os meus pecados, fazer penitencia, e emendar a minha vida. Amen.”.

Um Santo Natal, na Graça de Deus, para todos.

domingo, 21 de julho de 2013

Jesus never hesitated to preach the fear of punishment, and neither should modern preachers - by Msgr. Charles Pope

In AofW 

Some years ago I was stationed with a priest who, while he often liked my homilies, would often critique my use of what he called “fear based preaching.” Perhaps I had warned the congregation of punishment for sin, or even let slip that certain things were mortal sins that would exclude one from heaven and land them in hell. I would often playfully remind the congregation that missing Sunday Mass was a mortal sin by saying, “Go to Mass or go to hell.” I would also warn that fornicators would not inherit the Kingdom nor idolaters nor adulterers nor those who practice homosexuality, nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God (cf 1 Cor 6:9).
 
Of course I was quoting Scripture and preaching out of a voluminous biblical tradition of warning texts. Nevertheless, the older priest would often wag his finger and say, “Ah that’s fear-based preaching…fear based!”

Perhaps it was, but so what? And yet many (not all) priests of his generation were of the mind that to warn at all or to incite any fear in the people of God was some “abusive” and bad pastoral practice. They seem to have been a generation in reaction to something before them. Perhaps they had grown up with what they thought was too much fire and brimstone preaching and not enough of a summons to higher motives rooted in love and mature spiritual reflection.

It is true, that the First Letter of John does set for a kind of goal for us that we be free of the mere fear of punishment and root our moral life in love:

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. (1 John 4:18)

And yet, if this goal, good and important that it is, is meant to eliminate any appeal to ordinary fear of punishment, apparently Jesus never got the memo. Neither did St. Paul, St Peter, St. James, St Jude, the Author of the Letter to the Hebrews, and even John himself seems to have forgotten the “rule” from time to time.

For the fact is, the quote from First John sets for a goal for the spiritually mature. But that does mean that we are all there. In fact, people are at many different stages of spiritual growth. Surely the Lord, and the gospel and epistle writers knew this, as does every experienced pastor.

Frankly, many are still at a spiritual stage where the fear of punishment is both necessary and salutary.
Jesus certainly saw fit to appeal to the fear of punishment, loss, and hell. In fact, it is arguable that this was his main approach and that one would struggle to find very many texts where Jesus appeals more to a perfect contrition and a purely holy fear rooted in love alone as a motive to avoid sin. But over and over in dozens of passages and parables Jesus warns of punishment and exclusion from the Kingdom for unrepented sin and for the refusal to be ready. Here are just a few:
  1. Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. (Matt 7:13-14)
  2. The Son of man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which do iniquity; And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. (Mat 13:41-42)
  3. “Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping.What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’ ” (Mk 13:35-37)
  4. And take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with carousing, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come on you unawares. For as a snare shall it come on all them that dwell on the face of the whole earth. Watch you therefore, and pray always, that you may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man. (Luke 21:34-36)
  5. “But about that day or hour no one knows…For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark;and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away…“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into.So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. (Matt 24:36-44)
  6. The lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looks not for him, and in an hour that he is not aware of, And shall cut him asunder, and appoint him his portion with the hypocrites: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Matt 24:51)
  7. Then the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.“Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’“But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour. (Matt 25:10-13)
  8. “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat…“Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” (Matt 24:41-42, 46)
  9. Whoever looks on a woman to lust after her has committed adultery with her already in his heart. And if your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out, and cast it from you: for it is profitable for you that one of your members should perish, and not that your whole body should be cast into hell. (Matt 5:28-29)
  10. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell. (Matt 5:22)
  11. And if your foot offend you, cut it off: it is better for you to enter halt into life, than having two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched: Where their worm dies not, and the fire is not quenched. (Mk 9:45-46)
  12. Friend, how came you in here not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless. Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen. (Matt 22:12-14)
  13. Then said Jesus again to them, I go my way, and you shall seek me, but you shall die in your sins: where I go, you cannot come….I have told you that you will die in your sins; if you do not believe that I am he, you will indeed die in your sins (John 8:21, 24).
  14. by their fruits you shall know them. Not every one that said to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that does the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name? and in your name have cast out devils? and in your name done many wonderful works? Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’ (Matt 7:20-23)
  15. He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. (Mark 16:15-16)
  16. He who rejects Me and does not receive My sayings, has one who judges him; the word I spoke is what will judge him at the last day. (John 12:48)
  17. “Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city. Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood. “I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give youthis testimony for the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.” (Rev 22:14-16)
Dozens of other texts, parables and warnings could be added unto this list. But let these Suffice. The bottom line is that Jesus warned and appealed to the fear of punishment a LOT.

No one loves you more than Jesus and yet no one warned of judgment and Hell more than Jesus. He knows how stubborn and hard we are, and thus he is plain and warns with clarity and charity.

St. Paul and all the other Epistle writers have many warning texts as well that proclaim a salutary fear of punishment. A common example of the Pauline warning texts is this:
Or do you not know that the unrighteous  will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. (1 Cor 6:9-10)

Translation: if one stays in serious and unrepented sin, they go to Hell. And thus, St Paul too, as well as the other Epistle writers all appeal to the fear of punishment.

Now why should we, who are summoned to preach and teach in Jesus’ name, reject a key strategy that he and his chosen apostles employed? And yet, it has been a consistent modern practice to all but ignore the substantial warning texts that occur throughout the preaching of Jesus and the Apostles.

Part of the reason for our rejection would seem rooted in the fact that we live in rather dainty times wherein people easily take offense. Further the “self-esteem” culture and its premises are inimical to speaking of people as sinners or in anyway rejected. Thirdly, many today have cast God in the role of doting Father, and Jesus as a harmless hippie. No matter how unbiblical the images of the Lord are, they are pervasive and people do not easily let go of them, even when confronted with biblical texts.

But, at the end of the day, those of us who preach are without excuse if we neglect or refuse a pastoral practice used extensively by Jesus himself. By our silence in this regard we mislead God’s people and become, in effect, deceivers who do not preach the “whole counsel of God” (cf Acts 20:27).

While it is true that we can help to lead God’s people from an imperfect contrition (rooted in fear of punishment) to a more perfect contrition (rooted in love for God), it remains a rather clear fact that many of the faithful are at different stages and are not yet at the perfect contrition stage.

For this reason the Church has always allowed that imperfect contrition was sufficient to receive absolution. The traditional act of contrition (which is to be preferred) says,

…I detest all my sins, not only because I fear the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend you my God who are all good, and deserving of all my love….

This act of contrition is to be preferred because it distinguishes perfect and imperfect contrition and properly notes that most of us have by sorts of contrition admixed. But this act of contrition also helps the penitent recall the journey we ought to make out of the fear of punishment to the deeper and more perfect motive of love of God and neighbor to avoid sin.

But for most of us, this is a journey that is underway, and some have made more progress than others. Meanwhile, the preachers of the Church do well to appeal to the fear of punishment among other motives to avoid sin.

Jesus and the Apostles never hesitated to recall the fearful results of sinful obstinance. And neither should we who Preach today. Fear of punishment is needed after all.




segunda-feira, 27 de maio de 2013

Dan Brown’s Infernal Fiction - by Anthony Esolen

In CWR


“That Mickey Spillane, he sure can write!” says one of the amiable losers in the film Marty, after reading a passage of exquisitely bad macho-romance. 

Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code, having written what for lack of a mightier term we must call a novel, a novel that proved that John the Apostle was a girl, Mary Magdalene a helpless goddess, and a hypotenuse an African water buffalo—having revealed for millions the lavish colors of the frescoes in Notre Dame de Paris (there are no frescoes in Notre Dame de Paris), the grim austerity of Spanish Cathedrals (Spanish Cathedrals are notorious for baroque exuberance), and the deep mystery of the Golden Ratio (every schoolboy knew about the Golden Ratio)—having shown the world that he could write a novel about art, theology, and Christian history while knowing nothing about art, theology, and Christian history, except what he could glean from the covers of matchbooks and obiter dicta from Cher—having shown how much you can do if you do not bother to open an ordinary encyclopedia, this Dan Brown, I say, this man of our time and of no time, has now written a novel about the greatest poet who ever lived, Dante. 

Only it doesn’t have a damned thing to do with Dante, just as The Da Vinci Code didn’t have anything to do with Leonardo.  Dante is just a quick needle used to inject the “story” into the reader’s head.  This time, Mr. Brown has opened a lot of encyclopedias, deluging the reader with 400 pages of material that belongs in Michelin guides to Florence, Venice, and Istanbul, none of it to the point.  Even at that, he gets details wrong as soon as he veers away from something you might find in a guide book, especially when he engages in an exceedingly rare moment of telling us something about Dante’s poem.  He says it was called a Comedy because it was written in the vernacular, “for the masses.”  No, a comedy, according to the medieval definition, was a poem in which a character moves from misery to happiness, regardless of what language it is written in, and there were no “masses” to read it, since books were still costly to produce and scarce.
 
He says that Dante’s Purgatory has nine circles of ascent; no, there are seven, one for each of the deadly sins.  He says that Purgatory is the only way to get from the Inferno to Paradise.  No, it isn’t; nobody but Dante visits Inferno and leaves the place, and plenty of people do not have to ascend the mountain.  Essentially, Dante’s poem is about the resurrection of a human soul, by the grace of God, to turn from the lie of evil to the truth and beauty of goodness.  Brown doesn’t get any of that, because he doesn’t care about any of that. 

What’s this book about?  It’s 462 pages of bad prose.  Portentous sentence fragments.  Italics, for somber emphasis.  J-----, there are childish profanities!  Even childish punctuation?!  Anticlimaxes, a good dollop of Most Favored Bigotry, for sales; one dimensional characters, most of them pallid even in their one dimension, and a message with all the sophistication of Sesame Street. 

What’s that message?  We’re all going to die, die, die a horrible death!  Yes, the world is becoming overpopulated!  Actually, the world’s population is leveling off, but the truth here is not convenient.  That’s because the threatening message is another needle, for injecting the promising message.  What’s that one?  It’s simple.  We all need to let scientists and readers of the New Yorker and other brainiacs to direct human evolution, so that we can break out into a “transhuman” and “posthuman” age.  Who are the enemies?  The Catholic Church (naturally), and all of us perfectly normal people who like to marry and have children.  Shame, shame.  And then, too, we must level some very mild criticism at the Robert Langdons of the world—Brown’s twit of a hero—who don’t like to marry and have children (that’s good), but who might feel just a tiny bit squeamish about mass sterilizations and eugenics (that’s bad).  After all, as Brown reminds us several times, didn’t Dante say that “the darkest places in hell are reserved for those who, in a time of moral crisis, preserved their neutrality”?  Actually, no, Dante never said anything so stupid.  John F. Kennedy, that poseur, said that Dante said it.  But Dante reserves the worst place in hell for those who return evil for good; and the epitome of them all is Satan, traitor against God, with his wings flapping forever in impotence. 

Let me spoil everything in the book.  For hundreds of pages you are led to believe that there are bad guys running around trying to kill Langdon and the de rigueur Xena Warrior Princess, the pate-burnt Sienna Brooks.  There are no bad guys.  For hundreds of pages you are led to believe that a horrible plague, to wipe out a third of mankind, like the Black Death, is about to be unleashed.  It isn’t.  There is no such plague.  It’s a virus that will make a third of mankind infertile.  For hundreds of pages you are led to believe that the biohazard is in Florence.  It isn’t.  Then Venice.  It isn’t.  It’s in Istanbul.  Page after page, ten watt bulb after ten watt bulb, I’m reminded of dialogue from my childhood: 

“Hold on, old chum!  Let’s look at the riddle again.  What if it isn’t Gotham City?  Might it be – Got’um, Sydney – Sydney Ostralia, the world-renowned microbiologist?”
“Holy homonyms, Batman!”

And what about the madman who concocted the virus, one Bertrand Zobrist?  Well, he is really a lover of mankind, don’t you see?  He wants to give mankind enough breathing space—because we are about to enter hell.  What is hell?  Not the loss of God.  Hell is other people—lots and lots of other people, with their garlicky food and their wailing toddlers and their excrement.  Hell is overpopulated Manila, not spiffy New England, where Dan Brown lives.  What is heaven?  Oh, heaven, that’s the brave new world around the bend, when people will be engineered to live longer and not have so many babies, so that they might, well, do whatever they please, apparently, because just as there is no point to a Dan Brown allusion or a Dan Brown metaphor or a Dan Brown travelogue, so there is no point to human existence, either.  We’ll just be nicer, and the fewer of us around to bother about, the nicer it will be.

I’m often taken to task for suggesting that we have been suffering a cultural implosion, for pointing out that an old issue of Boys’ Life is linguistically more sophisticated than the current New York Times.  May I kindly submit Dan Brown as exhibit A in my prosecution?  “That Dan Brown sure is erudite!” say reviewers around the country.  “That Dan Brown, he sure knows his art!  He sure has the goods on the Middle Ages!  His hero is a symbologist – he studies symbs!”  “That Dan Brown knows his science, don’t he!” 

I defy anyone to find for me a best-selling novel written in English before 1950 that is as relentlessly inane and chic-trite and morally destitute as this one.  In saying so, do I also mean to impugn the tastes of his readers?  Let me answer by adapting Dante’s verse over the gates to the lower world: Lasciate intelligenza, voi ch’entrate. 
 
Check your brains at the door, all you who enter!  Check your souls and your humanity, too.

Dan Brown: un manifesto per la cultura della morte - di Massimo Introvigne

In NBQ
«Il Vaticano mi odia», afferma a un certo punto di «Inferno», il nuovo romanzo di Dan Brown, la dottoressa Elizabeth Sinskey, direttrice dell’Organizzazione Mondiale della Sanità e santa laica del racconto. «Anche lei? Pensavo di essere l’unico», risponde Robert Langdon, il professore di simbologia di Harvard già protagonista dei precedenti romanzi «Angeli e demoni», «Il Codice da Vinci» e «Il simbolo perduto», che svolge sempre la funzione di portavoce delle idee di Dan Brown.

L’avversione per «il Vaticano», cioè per la Chiesa Cattolica, è il filo rosso che tiene uniti i romanzi di Dan Brown. In «Angeli e demoni» – scritto prima de «Il Codice da Vinci», anche se tradotto dopo in italiano – scopriamo che la Chiesa è da secoli nemica della scienza. Ne «Il Codice da Vinci» Brown cerca di distruggere le fondamenta stessa del cristianesimo, rivelandoci che Gesù era sposato con Maria Maddalena, non pensava di essere Dio e non intendeva fondare la Chiesa. Ne «Il simbolo perduto» il romanziere americano aggiunge che la tradizionale rivale della Chiesa, la massoneria, è un’organizzazione molto più simpatica, illuminata e amica del progresso. Stavolta… e qui devo chiedere al lettore interessato a farsi sorprendere dai colpi di scena di Brown di smettere la lettura di questo articolo, perché – pur senza scendere in troppi particolari – per illustrare l’ideologia che presiede a «Inferno» è necessario dire qualcosa della trama.

Stavolta Langdon – che all’inizio del romanzo ha perso la memoria e si trova in un letto d’ospedale a Firenze – è impegnato in una corsa contro il tempo per evitare una pandemia, un’epidemia planetaria scatenata – prima di suicidarsi – dallo scienziato svizzero Bertrand Zobrist. Lo scienziato, un famoso biochimico, fa parte di un’ala estrema del Transumanesimo, un movimento realmente esistente, alle cui origini c’è il biologo Julian Huxley (1887-1975), che propugna la trasformazione della natura umana in una realtà di livello fisicamente e intellettualmente superiore attraverso l’uso senza limitazioni dell’ingegneria genetica. Nel romanzo, Zobrist si convince che gli scopi del Transumanesimo non potranno essere raggiunti, perché richiedono tempi lunghi e nel frattempo l’umanità sarà annientata dalla crescita demografica. Come spiega un’altra scienziata a Langdon, «la fine della nostra specie è alle porte, Non sarà causata dal fuoco né dallo zolfo, dall’apocalisse o da una guerra nucleare… Il collasso globale sarà provocato dal numero di abitanti del pianeta. La matematica non è un’opinione».

Zobrist ha dunque pensato a una soluzione drastica. Ha nascosto nell’acqua in un luogo molto frequentato una sacca idrosolubile, che entro pochi giorni da quando Langdon entra in scena si aprirà e libererà un virus in grado di diffondersi rapidamente nel mondo intero, risolvendo drasticamente il problema della sovrappopolazione. Aiutato dall’inevitabile bella signora, – ce n’è una diversa in ogni romanzo – di cui finirà per innamorarsi, Langdon si mette dunque alla ricerca della sacca letale. Decifra indizi lasciati dallo stesso Zobrist, fanatico cultore dell’«Inferno» di Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), che alludono alla «Divina Commedia», al pittore e storico dell’arte rinascimentale Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574) e all’astuto e controverso doge veneziano Enrico Dandolo (1107-1205), che lo portano da Firenze a Venezia e da Venezia a Istanbul. Perché Zobrist – se veramente voleva che la sacca non fosse scoperta – abbia lasciato degli indizi che un esperto di simboli può decifrare abbastanza facilmente non è veramente spiegato.

Ma l’appassionato di Dan Brown trova comunque quello che cerca: inseguimenti mozzafiato quasi in ogni capitolo, perché con Langdon corrono per trovare la sacca – senza che si capisca subito chi lavora per chi, chi finge, chi fa il doppio gioco – gli agenti dell’Organizzazione Mondiale della Sanità guidati dalla dottoressa Sinskey, quelli del «Consortium», una società privata di «contractor» – Brown afferma che esiste davvero, gli ha solo cambiato nome – disposta a fare qualunque cosa per il migliore offerente, e i Transumanisti discepoli di Zobrist i quali intendono assicurarsi, dopo il suicidio del loro maestro, che il suo piano giunga comunque a compimento.

Non senza un ulteriore ammonimento a saltare almeno questo paragrafo rivolto a chi vuole leggere il romanzo e lasciarsi sorprendere dal finale – che però è essenziale per capire gli aspetti ideologici – menzionerò soltanto che Langdon, per una volta, fallisce. Quando arriva al luogo dov’è nascosta la sacca, questa si è già aperta, e il virus ha ormai rapidamente contagiato quasi tutti gli abitanti della Terra. Ma non si tratta di un virus che uccide. Rende sterili, ma in alcuni casi l’organismo riesce a difendersi così che questa sterilizzazione forzata, inconsapevole e trasmissibile alle generazioni future colpisce solo un terzo degli abitanti della Terra. E alla fine Langdon, la sua bella e la stessa dottoressa Sinskey si rendono conto che Zobrist usava sì metodi discutibili e perfino criminali ma i suoi scopi erano giusti: conviene non cercare nessun antidoto e lasciare le cose come stanno. Forse lo avrebbe voluto lo stesso Dante, il cui messaggio «non riguardava tanto i tormenti dell’inferno quanto la forza dello spirito umano nell’affrontare qualsiasi sfida, anche la più terribile». Questa «laicizzazione» di Dante, che ignora il profondo cattolicesimo del poeta, ha una lunga tradizione nel mondo esoterico, ma è del tutto infondata.

Nell’epilogo del romanzo Langdon medita sul fatto che il «peccato» esiste, ma non è quello di cui parla la Chiesa Cattolica. È la «negazione» (denial), una «pandemia globale» che fa sì che cerchiamo di non pensare alla bomba a orologeria della sovrappopolazione mondiale che ticchetta e che distruggerà certamente l’umanità, distraendoci e rivolgendo la nostra attenzione ad altri problemi, tutti in realtà meno urgenti.
La Chiesa Cattolica è la principale responsabile di questo «peccato» universale. Si oppone alla sterilizzazione di massa – di cui il virus del romanzo è un’ovvia metafora – e alla «diffusione capillare degli anticoncezionali», specie in Africa. La dottoressa Sinskey spiega che il Papa e i vescovi «hanno speso un’enorme quantità di soldi e di energie per indottrinare i paesi del Terzo mondo e indurli a credere che la contraccezione sia un male». «Chi meglio di un gruppetto di ottuagenari celibi può spiegare al mondo come si fa sesso?» risponde con il consueto livore anti-cattolico Langdon. E, in uno scambio con Zobrist, la Sinskey si vanta del fatto che l’Organizzazione Mondiale della Sanità ha «speso milioni di dollari per inviare medici in Africa a distribuire profilattici gratis». Non serve, risponde Zobrist: «dopo di voi un esercito ancora più numeroso di cattolici si è precipitato ad ammonire gli africani che se avessero usato i profilattici sarebbero finiti all’inferno». Per fortuna, ci hanno pensato Bill Gates, il padrone della Microsoft, e sua moglie Melinda – che per avere «coraggiosamente sfidato l’ira della Chiesa» meriterebbero di «essere santificati» – a donare «cinquecentosessanta milioni di dollari per favorire l’accesso al controllo delle nascite in tutto il mondo». Ma anche questo sforzo è arrivato troppo tardi.

Chiudendo il romanzo, si rimane perplessi. Brown non può non sapere che quello dell’esplosione demografica è un mito, un «cavallo morto» – per usare un’espressione americana – distrutto da innumerevoli studi statistici che mostrano come gran parte del mondo soffra precisamente del contrario della sovrappopolazione. L’Europa e la Russia hanno troppe poche nascite, non troppe, e i giovani sono già diventati troppo pochi per mantenere livelli adeguati di produzione, di consumo e di contribuzione pensionistica a favore di chi ha cessato di lavorare.

La Banca Mondiale prevede che la Cina avrà a breve lo stesso problema. L’Africa stessa potrebbe mantenere una popolazione ben superiore a quella attuale, con una migliore e più razionale distribuzione delle risorse. In un momento in cui da tanti grandi economisti a Putin tutti paventano semmai il «suicidio demografico» evocato dal beato Giovanni Paolo II (1920-2005) sembra paradossale che Brown si presenti a frustare il cavallo morto della sovrappopolazione, riprendendo un vecchio mito che sembrava perfino sprofondato nel ridicolo. Chi prende sul serio oggi il Club di Roma che nel 1970 prevedeva intorno al 2000 guerre mondiali per il controllo di risorse agricole che sarebbero dovute venire a mancare a causa dell’aumento della popolazione?

Ma Brown non è solo. Per rimanere a casa nostra Marco Pannella, Dario Fo, Eugenio Scalfari – per non parlare di Gianroberto Casaleggio, il vero capo del movimento di Beppe Grillo, che considera anche lui necessario ridurre da sette miliardi a un miliardo gli attuali abitanti della Terra per assicurare loro un luminoso futuro a cinque stelle – hanno cercato di rilanciare negli ultimi anni, in un coro unanime e sospetto, i vecchi miti della sovrappopolazione. Nostalgie della loro giovinezza? No, c’è una ragione precisa per questo ritorno a miti screditati. Si tratta di fare propaganda per la sterilizzazione forzata, l’aborto, l’eutanasia e anche per l’ultimo abominio, l’infanticidio dei bambini già nati – e sfuggiti all’aborto – di cui si paventano malattie gravi, mascherato sotto il nome ipocrita di «aborto post-natale» e per cui si è già cominciato a battere la grancassa.

Il virus del dottor Zobrist – purtroppo, direbbe Brown – non esiste, è solo un’invenzione da romanzo e non è possibile immetterlo nell’aria per sottoporre a sterilizzazione forzata, senza che possa in alcun modo opporsi, un terzo della popolazione mondiale e i suoi discendenti. Ma siccome la «negazione» e il non voler pensare all’inevitabile e relativamente imminente – cento anni al massimo – fine dell’umanità dovuta alla sovrappopolazione è l’unico vero «peccato», è chiaro che si deve fare qualcosa. Subito: e non manca, come in tutti i romanzi di Dan Brown, la solita avvertenza in prima pagina secondo cui tutti i riferimenti scientifici «si basano su dati reali». Così, il libro si risolve in un manifesto per quella che il beato Giovanni Paolo, Benedetto XVI hanno chiamato la cultura della morte: la cultura dei «disegni di morte» evocata da Papa Francesco nella Messa d’inaugurazione del suo pontificato. Se un virus che rende molti sterili non è disponibile, non resta che lottare contro le nascite con altri mezzi. E favorire le morti: Langdon ricorda che «negli Stati Uniti circa il sessanta per cento delle spese sanitarie serve a curare i pazienti durante gli ultimi sei mesi di vita». «Il nostro cervello capisce che è una pazzia», gli risponde la sua compagna.

quarta-feira, 30 de janeiro de 2013

The Brighter Side of Hell - by Fr. James Schall, S. J.

In CREC

Hell has gotten a bad name. I am sorry to hear it.

I.
 
 If rightly understood, it is rather a positive teaching, even a freeing one. Hell has too few defenders. We are told, by learned scholars and other unsympathetic souls, that Hell is '"old-fashioned.'" It is '"out-of-date.'" No one, especially no one important or smart, is said to hold it any more. Therefore, it cannot be significant. If anyone has heard a sermon on Hell in his local parish in recent decades, he probably cannot remember it. No '"fire and brimstone'" is to be heard in the land. Or if something on the topic of Hell was heard, it was undoubtedly some reassuring preachment guaranteeing that this unpleasant topic was really nothing to worry about, even if we are inveterate sinners, especially if we are inveterate sinners. Obviously such inveterate sinners have the most to lose in case this curious doctrine is true. 
 
All is forgiven, But if anything perchance needs to be forgiven, we are assured, furthermore, that '"all is forgiven'" by a compassionate Maker. Most funerals these days, as far as I can tell, operate on this assumption. We give eulogies. We do not remind ourselves that we too are to follow. Not to worry, in any case. Forgiveness in theory becomes not sacramental but sociological. Poverty, ignorance, prejudice, compassion — these excuses, these exterior forces, rule our internal order to explain why we must do what we did. The internal order it not responsible to rule itself, as in the classical tradition. 

Hell has been depopulated by other enterprising thinkers. Terrible place, no doubt, but no one is in it. Even if it exists, which is improbable, it is likely that no one is in it actually suffering its famous pains and pangs. We even find proposals to save those said definitely to be roasting or freezing there, depending on one's theory of which is worse. Lucifer, for instance. The famous philosopher Jacques Maritain once wondered (and there is nothing wrong with speculations) if it would not be possible, in the divine mercy, to lift Satan out of Hell and deposit him in Limbo. The only trouble with that thesis is that Limbo is even less believed than Hell. Limbo was a place for those unbaptized souls who did not sin but who were also not redeemed. Hell was a place for those redeemed in the blood of the Lamb but who rejected its dimensions in their personal lives. In any case, it appears that to put anyone in Hell for whatever reason, however horrendous, is downright unseemly. It is against '"human rights.'" A '"good'" God, it is said, simply would not do such a nasty thing as put someone in Hell.

What are we to make of all of this confused thinking on a doctrine that is even found in Plato, not to mention rather prominently in divine revelation? Is it all that absurd or outlandish or unthinkable? Is Hell really a sign of God's impotence? Of His cruelty? We love to imagine that if we were God — which, to be sure, we are not — we would certainly not concoct such a place from which, evidently, no turning back can be discovered, no possibility of escape. The trouble with this hypothesis is that it is pretty difficult to find an alternative that is really better than the one we are given. Every alternative that I have ever seen ends up, finally, by removing our freedom, our happiness, or our minds.

We like, no doubt, to put ourselves in a position whereby we can judge God to have been at fault for coming up with such an absurd and cruel position. Hell, it is said, is a problem of God, not us. Any threat of Hell causes us all sorts of discomfort, especially now that many of what were formerly called '"sins'" are now called '"human rights.'" We presume to define what was evil to be good. We actually legislate what is good and evil. The list gets longer daily. Surely, we think, the Divinity could have figured out a better way? God seems to have had limited imagination not to have created a world in which Hell was no possibility for anyone actually existing in it. 

The fact, of course, is that God did come up with such a world '"in the beginning.'" Hell was not first invented by God and then, later on, seeing the mess human beings made of things, He decided to send human beings and angels there for safe keeping. It was the other way around. God first intended and created a world in which Hell did not exist, except maybe potentially. But He did intend a world in which real, finite human beings and angels existed and were destined for eternal happiness if they so chose. 

This situation of initially creating man for eternal life is that from whence God's problems with human beings arose. He could not create free creatures who were called to participate in His inner life unless they were, at the same time, actually free so to choose Him. Otherwise, they would have been — not free human beings or angels — but automata. Heaven, if it existed (or Hell for that matter) was not designed as a place for robots. Such latter beings, for whatever their worth, are not really capable of loving God by virtue of their own inner understanding and freedom.

Hell is simply the direct and necessary consequence of really free creatures refusing to choose God rather than themselves. They chose or preferred a world they thought they could make for themselves. Put in positive way, the doctrine of Hell is the guarantee of our individual and personal dignity. Without what it stands for — namely the basic seriousness and importance of our lives — we evaporate all concrete meaning from our existence. How so? 

But before we go into this question, it is first advisable to remind ourselves of just what the Church itself had historically taught on this often, to many people, unsettling doctrine. Various doctrines are emphasized or sometimes overemphasized in given eras of Church history. We can certainly say that Hell has been '"under-emphasized'" in the past century or so; probably overemphasized at other times. But there is a difference between what Christianity universally holds on a subject it finds in its sources of revelation and those doctrines that are popularly attended to or emphasized. What is ignored or neglected still remains within the doctrinal deposit of things to be known and held.

II.
 
First, then, I want simply to recall the brief paragraphs that the General Catechism of the Catholic Church devotes to Hell (#1033-37). These paragraphs in turn recall the passages in Scripture, Tradition, and the Magisterium in which this doctrine is indicated and explained. The discussion begins with the point made above, that is, '"We cannot be united with God unless we freely choose to love him.'" The doctrine of Hell, like the New Testament itself, is primarily an aspect of love, not of justice. The question of justice comes in only after the question of love has failed. Hell is directly related to our own choices, to the choices of what we choose to love in the concrete decisions of our lives.

'"To die in mortal sin without repenting and accepting God's merciful love means remaining separated from Him forever by our own free choice.'" In this sense, we create or put ourselves in Hell. Mortal '"sins'" do exist. They must be acknowledged as our own acts put into effect against the rightness of our own natures. '"This state of definitive self-exclusion from community with God and the blesseds is called 'Hell.'" Thus, initially, we cannot really understand Hell if we cannot or will not understand love, including divine love. God Himself is, as it were, bound to what this reality of love is, since He is bound by what He is. We would not have it otherwise.

Recalling what is known as the '"Last Judgment,'" the Catechism refers to the fires and punishments for those who persistently do evil. While Hell may be primarily a spiritual thing, it is depicted also in terms of physical punishment, almost out of respect to the wholeness that we are, body and soul. We may not like this physical description, but it is not simply made up by the Church. Rather what Christ actually said on this topic is preserved in the Church, which cannot forget its own foundations. But the same Church never doubts that whatever physical punishment there may be, the spiritual suffering — the realization that we have rejected what we are — is always more serious. 

But just knowing what Hell is does incite us to ask, '"Why are we told these things?'" Obviously, we are told these things for our own good and for our own aid, indeed for our own illumination about what is. Thus man is asked to '"make use of his freedom in view of his eternal destiny.'" We often neglect to think of Hell or live as if it existed. Still it seems merciful on the part of God to let us know as best He can, that is, within the limits both of our freedom and of His, what happiness or punishment is in store for us as a result of our choices. God is not Himself, as some religious and philosophic theories hold, pure will who cam make right wrong and wrong right. He follows the goodness of what He is. Thus, this teaching on Hell becomes a '"call to conversion,'" if we need it, as we often do. We are reminded again that '"we know not the day nor the hour,'" so that this very uncertainty is an incentive to prepare ourselves for what we as mortals are about in this world.

Finally, the much misunderstood teaching about '"predestination'" is mentioned. '"God predestines no one to go to Hell.'" Predestination does not make us do what we do by some necessity outside ourselves. It is not a denial but an affirmation of free will, both God's and ours. Simply because God knows our free acts, it does not follow that He is doing the acting, not ourselves. If I see someone get up and walk away, my knowledge of his getting up does not make him determined to do so. Knowledge of a free action and cause of that free action are not the same. My knowledge of a free act includes the awareness of its freedom, otherwise, I do not know what really is. 

Moreover, we are to '"persist'" to the end. The fact that we sin is not fatal unless we choose to make it fatal. That is, it is our whole life and its orientation that interests God. Sinners can repent. Many do. The whole point of the Incarnation was the divine awareness that men sin but cannot save themselves by their own efforts because sin itself reaches the Godhead's love of us and others. That some pretty horrendous things happen among us by our own choices means that we need, at all times, a way to save ourselves from ourselves. This is the whole purpose of our redemption, to restore to us the possibility. But once a way of redemption is given to us, we still must avail ourselves of it. We still must choose to use it. Our personal salvation cannot take place without our freedom. Even God cannot make it otherwise because God too respects the dignity of His own creation of a free being.

III.

Let us grant that, in its origins, Hell is a teaching of both philosophy and religion. It is something we are not merely asked to know but also to think about. What positive meaning can it have? I would say, paradoxically, that no doctrine more vividly states or restates the importance of our daily lives and the choices therein than this doctrine. Ironically, its denial is not a formula for human liberation but a guarantee of ultimate human meaninglessness and insignificance. Why?

We can learn much about what is at issue from Plato, that is, from a pre-Christian philosopher, in many ways the greatest. Plato's whole philosophy was designed to direct our love and actions to the Good for its own sake, not for any motivation of reward and punishment. There is nothing wrong with doing many things for a motivation of reward or avoiding them for a motivation of fear or punishment. On the other hand, as Socrates saw at the end of The Republic, we did need to talk of rewards and punishments because it was quite clear that the best men are often killed, even by the state, and evil men are rewarded with great wealth and honor in the cities of this world. This situation is simply a fact that disturbs our sense of fairness. It seems to indicate that the world is very poorly made.

Hell, in other words, is a philosophic response to our sense of violated justice, a sense we all have on the hypothesis that the wicked are not really punished and the good not rewarded. Without an ultimate reckoning, beyond this life, many, if not most, evils and crimes performed in this world by individuals on others would go unpunished. Rewards would be wrongly distributed. If this ultimate reestablishment of order, in the form of a Hell or a Heaven, is not in effect, the world is made in vain. It is clear that there is a contradiction at the very heart of the world between what is right and what is carried out. So, without ever going into the question of religion on this topic, there is a case for Hell that flows from any basic insight into the human condition and its actual record over time. Not all crimes are punished, not all good deeds rewarded. The world, on this view, is simply unjust at its core. 

Let us take this argument a step further. Let us, for the sake of discussion, accept the proposition that there is no Hell. What follows from this denial? First, no ultimate requital of rewards and punishments in terms of deeds done takes place. What is wrong is not punished and what is right is not rewarded. Secondly, what follows, on the basis of this hypothesis that Hell does not exist, is that no human action really makes any difference for good or bad. The acts of the worst sinner or tyrant and the greatest saint become equivalent. Both end up the same way no matter what anyone does. Any effort to distinguish a noble and ignoble life falls apart if ultimately it makes no difference what we do. To be sure, we can introduce some taste criterion that would say that I prefer what are now called just deeds. But no ultimate reason exists why my deed or yours are preferable. Thus, in logic, the denial of Hell is not at all a neutral proposition. 

It is this consequence that inclines me to affirm that Hell is a very positive doctrine. More almost than any other teaching, it, indirectly perhaps, established the worth of my daily actions. At any moment, I can perform an act worthy of damnation, or one worthy of transcendent dignity. These actions do not take place in the clouds, but right here in my daily relationship with others and with myself. This realization is what it means '"when you did this to the least of my brothers.'" And this consequence is both for good and for evil. The ultimate dramas of existence take place everywhere, among the rich, the poor, the ordinary, the unusual. No one is in a privileged place where this drama, with its consequences, does not regularly take place. 

Obviously, this is not to maintain that such ultimate things happen every day as we brush our teeth or greet our neighbor. But they can and often do take on, through what the Catechism calls '"mortal sins'" or through acts of charity, transcendent meaning, They become a part of the free life and character we make of ourselves. Thus, Hell has the paradoxical function of enhancing our awareness of the meaning of our daily lives. This effect is not something morbid or upsetting, but something reassuring. Our lives are so ultimately important that we can lose them. But this possibility is placed before us so that we do not lose them. And we are not supposed to lose them. Hell exists to help us achieve what we are given in the first place, the promise of eternal life. But this life cannot just be automatically structured into our being so that we have nothing to do with its coming to be. 

In the end, Hell too exists that we might be free, free of what is most likely to prevent us from achieving the purpose of our existence. But freedom itself does not exist for its own sake. We are not free just to be free. We are free so that what we choose is something that is really worthy, really good, really existing. In short, we are free to reject what we are created for. That is, we are free to make ourselves the definition of our own happiness. If we do this, we are, by definition, in Hell — that is, we reject, by our own freedom, the purpose of our being. We can reject this. Both reason and revelation exist to advise and direct us to that end which is more glorious than any we might choose or make for ourselves. 

Thus, Hell is not such a bad doctrine. It has a lot of positive things about it if we take the trouble to think about it. Like all Christian truths, it is given to us to think about. In so doing, we can come to see that these doctrines contain a core understanding that directs us to what is Truth in itself. '"The road to Hell,'" it is said, '"is paved with good intentions.'" It is also paved with many insights into the very nature of our being that guide us to the truth of things and the importance of our existence.