Philosophy of Religion25:109-116 (1989) 9 1989 Kluwer AcademicPublishers. Printed in the Netherlands

Hell, is this really necessary?

RONALD L. HALL Francis Marion College, Box F 7500, Florence, SC 29501-0056

Recently, I was confronted with an argument for "Christian Universalism'. This argument was new, for me at least, and intriguing. I have never been inclined to put m u c h stock in the universalist doctrine that all of mankind will ultimately .attain to salvation and to its most notable reward, an eternal life in fellowship with God. This particular argument, however, gave me pause to reconsider. In what follows, I will present this argument and offer m y response. I will focus, in the argument, on the m y t h o f hell. Without commitment to whether there is a hell or not, or to what it is like, if it exists, I will mean by the word "hell" simply this: the final and eternal destiny o f the unredeemed. In the course o f the discussion, I will be dealing with two interelated questions: (1) What function is the m y t h o f hell, as we have defined it, designed to fulfill in Christian eschatology? (2) Is that function normatively required by that eschatological framework? Obviously, any consistent so-called "Christian universalist" must declare that the answer to the second question is "no". If everyone ultimately is redeemed, then hell will not figure ultimately in its eschatology. For the universalist, then, hell has no eternal significance and cannot be the final destiny o f the unredeemed. In answer to question (1), then, the universalist has to say that hell, so defined, has no essential function to play in its version of Christian eschatology. At best, in such a universalist framework, hell can be replaced by purgatory - that temporary stage o f purification prior to final redemption. The argument for "Christian Universalism" that I am so impressed with, I encountered in a paper by Louis Pojman entitled( "Kierkegaard on Freedom and the Scala Paradisi." (International Journal For Philosophy of Religion, Vol. 18, 1985.) Professor Pojman

110 rather succinctly formulates his argument and so I will, for the sake o f accuracy, simply quote from his paper. The dialectic between God's grace and human freedom must "at one point or another be stopped by the subjective." Humans have a role to play in salvation which, although quantitatively it may seem miniscule in comparison to God's part, is still decisive in the final analysis. But here we notice both a symmetrical and an asymmetrical relationship between the role o f freedom in the Fall and Salvation. Just as in the Fall freedom is depicted as a response to pressures in favor of a possibility, n o w the possibility o f faith rather than of finitude and sin, but unlike in the Fall, the probabilities do not seem to be in favor o f the freedom's leap. The question immediately arises, if the cards are stacked against humans in the Fall so that no one of God's creatures ever succeeds in avoiding sin, why aren't the cards o f grace stacked in man's favor so that no human can avoid choosing faith? It seems to me that Kierkegaard does not succeed in getting God o f f the hook with regard to evil, for given the strong inclination towards the Fall, which seems necessary for salvation, we should expect an equally strong tendency towards saving faith which constitutes the promise of the summum bonum. The asymmetry seems invidious to God's plan and calls for improvement. What is lacking, and what Kierkegaard's scala paradisi calls for, is something like a notion of purgatory wherein God's call continues to work on those mined by the Fall, until the apocatastasis is reached and all are finally won back to his love. For in the end even as human freedom is too weak to resist sin, so it is too wise to resist grace. The logical conclusion of Kierkegaard's schema of the divine comedy is universal salvation. All's well that ends well. (p. 147) To set the stage for my response to this argument, I must first set out the general outlines of the Christian, or at least Kierkegaard's version of the Christian, scala paradisi. Central to this drama of salvation-history is the phenomenon of freedom. The place of freedom in the ascent to heaven is, roughly, as follows: the biblical m y t h of the fall depicts Adam as having been born into pure innocence, that is, into a world where sin has not yet been posited as a concrete actuality,

111 that is, as a sin. The m y t h parallels the positing o f sin through a sin with the positing o f freedom through a concrete free act. Prior to the concrete act, freedom exists only as a dreaming possibility of possibility. The parallels converge in the fail, for here freedom and sin are both posited through one free act which is, perhaps fortunately and perhaps unfortunately, a misuse o f freedom to choose evil instead o f the good. With the first free act, a sin, man enters into history and his eyes are opened to the radical contingency o f his being, his finitude and his mortality and guilt, as well as to his god-like transcendence over nature found in his newly discovered power o f agency. The fall of man is equivocal. Adam not only represents the entrance o f freedom and sin into the world, he also represents each subsequent individual's entrance into freedom and sin. After freedom has been negatively actualized in the world through sin, each new creature born into that world is subject to influences and pressures not present in Eden - a world wholly without sin. Therefore, even though each new individual is born into innocence, it is not a pure innocence. Now the dreaming possibility o f possibility is tilted by actuality towards a negative actualization, sin. But this inclination towards the negative actualization o f freedom in sin could not, without contradiction, be determined or predestined. The first act, through which sin and freedom are posited must be in some sense "free" and "sinful". With the negative positing o f freedom in sin, comes the indirect positing of its dialectical opposite, freedom's positive actualization. Freedom became actual through the choice of evil, a negative actualization that finally ends in despair. But, it became actual! As such, freedom awaits to be positively appropriated. Freedom in its negative actualization is the instrument o f sin, but freedom in its positive actualization is the instrument of salvation. Freedom's negative actualization thus sets the stage for its positive actualization. Freedom in its misuse yields self-centered pride in all of its various manifestations. In its positive actualization, freedom begins in acceptance. The negative actualization o f freedom leads to the sickness unto death, its positive actualization to spiritual health, the most significant sign o f which is the acceptance of it as gift. As gift, and not as possession, freedom no longer selfishly guards its rights, but gratefully takes up its responsibility towards the other, towards God and neighbor. In this positive graceful freedom, we begin to

112 recover from the wounds of sin. This recovery is finally completed in heaven. I believe that this scala paradisi can be properly understood only if myth is carefully and correctly distinguished from history. Let me now present, in the barest of outline, a way of distinguishing myth from history that I have found to be of profound heuristic value. It is not original, but is drawn from a piece by W.H. Poteat entitled: "Myths, Stories, History, Eschatology and Action: Some Polanyian Meditations." (Intellect and Hope, Duke Press, 1968, pp. 198-231). Here, Poteat suggests that myth in its eschatological, as opposed to its classical sense, is about radical beginnings and radical endings. Myths are not stories in the sense of being made-up works of art, yet they are not historical narratives either. Historical occurrences fall within the temporal horizons of an actual before and after; stories involve only a fictive before and after; myths employ the language of before and after to describe those radical beginnings and endings that lie at the edge of history but not within it, at its metaphysical limits we might say. Myths then are about reality, but a reality prior to, or after the historical actuality of before and after. Yet the language used to describe pre- and post-historical reality is the language of historical actuality and so cannot be taken in a straightforward way. The radical beginning of history has no before, as the radical end has no after, and yet these beginnings and endings are comprehensible only in the language of before and after. We may say then that the language of myth is logically odd vis-g-vis the language of history. Although all language is equivocal in some sense, it is never more equivocal than in myth. According to this distinction, the first act, or first sin, whether in the objective sense or in the subjective sense of "my first sin", through which freedom is actualized, must be described as "free", as "an act", as "a sin", even though these terms are used in their mythological, and hence highly equivocal senses, and not in their more straightforward historical senses. Subsequent acts occur within history. Pojman says in his paper, "every other sin has essentially the same logic" as the first sin. Having just made the distinction between myth and history, I must disagree. My view is that the first sin for me, by which sin is posited for me, is not on logical all fours with subsequent sins. If this is true, there is necessarily an asymmetry between the mtyhological "free choice" that brought freedom into its negative

113 actualization and the historical free choice that posits its positive actualization. The fall necessarily occurs in myth, salvation is intended to occur in history. What happens when it doesn't? What happens when freedom is not positively appropriated and persons die lost? Is God to blame for creating us so that the cards are so stacked that we will freely choose sin, in the mythological sense o f "choose" and yet not to blame with regard to whether we ever positively appropriate freedom, leaving it up to us in history to accept or reject his grace? Do we need another m y t h on the other side of history to get God o f f the hook here? Pojman thinks we do, the m y t h of purgatory. I agree, partially. I believe that the m y t h of the fall is an essential element in any complete account o f the nature and destiny of man. Man emerges into history from a prehistorical background. The account o f this emergence cannot then be simply a straightforward historical account. Yet the account must employ historical concepts like 'person', 'action', 'choice', 'responsibility', and 'sin'. Such a use is irreducibly equivocal. My history, or the history of the race is simply not complete without some reference to its radical beginning. This reference must of necessity be oblique, indirect, and equivocal, or to put it differently, it must be mythological. In the Biblical tradition, the m y t h o f the fall sets the stage for the historical journey towards salvation. The m y t h of the fall is then necessary and essential in salvation history. On this point, Pojman, Kierkegaard and I agree. God then seems justified in stacking the cards in favor of the fall. God, in his wisdom, choose to create in us just that fundamental ambiguity of inclination, ever so liable to sin, so as to create the condition for grace. Pojman is careful to say that the fall is not inevitable, only highly probable. This is true even though every human in fact sins. It is important that the possibility exists that one might not fall, even though in fact everyone does, for otherwise the fall would loose precisely that element o f freedom that the m y t h is concerned to posit. This all being so, w h y not, Pojman reasons, develop a m y t h on the other side o f history, a m y t h o f its radical ending, the m y t h of purgatory in which everyone will in fact "choose" faith? One advantage such a view would have, according to Pojman, is its symmetry and balance. At the beginning no one ever succeeds in avoiding sin, so why not think that the end no one can avoid choosing faith?

114 This seems to me to be very persuasive. After all Christianity posits salvation - history as comedy not tragedy - it is supposed to end well, not badly. "All is well that ends well!" And Pojman is right, there is a beautiful symmetry and balance here, not to mention the apparent advantage of getting God off o f the theodicy hook for letting evil and sin have an eternal and ultimate place, at least for some, in the salvation drama. The one thing that bothers me about the argument is that, if Pojman is right, the traditional m y t h o f hell must be eliminated from the scala paradisi and replaced by a m y t h o f purgatory. If indeed all will finally be worn down to "choose" faith, there is no need for a notion of an eternal punishment as the ultimate destiny of the unredeemed. It is not that I am worried that the tradition may have gotten it wrong, rather I believe that there might be an indispensible role for the m y t h o f hell to play in the scala paradisi. Before I try to say what the indispensible role o f the m y t h o f hell is, let me first say that I believe that the m y t h of purgatory is also indispensible. God, having stacked the cards so that all human beings would, and do in fact, fall, is under a consequent obligation to give every opportunity to choose right. He could only be a just God if he, after tilting his creatures towards the fall, gave every possible chance for his fallen creatures to be redeemed by accepting his grace. One central, if not the central function o f the m y t h of purgatory, is precisely to express God's unconditional love and persistent pursuit of our well being. Even beyond the grave, and despite all we have done, God is still mythologically represented as inviting us to a life o f faith and fellowship with him. There is also present in the m y t h of purgatory the expression of amelioration in the salvation drama. The salvation process is not simply a black/white, heaven/hell matter. The purgatory m y t h expresses the redemptive dimension of punishment and the reality that most of us are neither wholly and purely saved or lost. This role, along with the role of God's persistent love, makes any scala paradisi without a m y t h of purgatory essentially incomplete. While a m y t h of purgatory does seem essential for a scala paradisi, it does not follow, as Pojman, and I suppose any consistent Christian universalist, thinks, that it can replace the m y t h of hell. I say this because I do believe that the m y t h o f hell expresses an essential dimension within the salvation process. That function is centered on freedom.

115 Let me explain. We can grant that God was justified in stacking the cards so that man's first act would be, in fact, but not of necessity, to "choose" sin and not faith. This set the stage for the invitation to ultimately choose faith and begins, as such, the journey (the exodus) from the bondage of sin to the liberation o f faith. At this point, however, we meet with a major asymmetry. Although the cards seem to be stacked in favor o f sin in the m y t h o f the fall, in history where we are invited to a positive actualization o f freedom in being invited to choose faith, God seems not to have stacked the cards so as to make our "choice" of faith, as a matter of fact, unavoidable. Or to put this differently, our choice in history seems to be radically our own! This does not mean that we initiate the salvation process. Christianity understands the initiative to lie with God. Yet it is we who must freely accept or not that universally extended invitation. If God really wants us to choose faith, that is, if the cards aren't stacked so as to insure that we will, that is, if we are radically free, we must be able to say " n o " to faith. Purgatory as a replacement for hell, seems to guarantee that all will be worn down to "accept" God's grace. Here the God of grace is transformed into a "god-Father" who makes us an offer we can't, or at least, won't refuse; here God says, " y o u are free to choose, but finally y o u will "choose faith". Hell, it seems to me, leaves open the possibility that some may say " n o " to faith. Hell could serve this normatively required eschatological function, even if no one, in fact, ever said to God a final "no". The important point to recognize in this claim that hell might finally be empty is that even if everyone finally, in purgatory, chose faith, that choice would still be radically free. Once freedom has been actualized, even though not positively appropriated, it cannot be erased. After the fall, choice is irreversally posited in history. Choice in the fall and choice after, the fall are radically asymmetrical. Even post-historical myths cannot legitimately undo this human condition of radical freedom. Hell is the m y t h which upholds radical freedom by upholding the radical possibility o f finally rejecting faith. This function is indispensible for Christian eschatology. N o w if it is really and radically possible that someone might reject faith, that is, if hell is not ultimately empty, then isn't God hooked on the problem of evil? Does God ultimately triumph if there is an eternal hell? It is clear to me that the real motive behind all Christian

116 universalist eschatologies is to get God o f f the hook o f an eternal ethical dualism. The good has to finally win. If hell exists as the eternal destiny of even one unredeemed soul, then evil continues to have a foothold in the drama of salvation history. The premiss o f this worry is that hell is a mythological place of eternal torture without hope o f redemption. (Of course, if there was hope o f redemption, then it is not hell, but purgatory). If this is what hell is, the universalist inclination to replace it with purgatory seems to me to be justified. Consider another conception o f hell, namely, one in which hell is not a place or state of eternal punishing, but a state or place (mythologically conceived, o f course) of eternal punishment. What would such punishment be? From the perspective o f fellowship and communion with God, there is nothing worse than separation from God. If God is life, then the ultimate separation - hell - is absolute separation, which is non-being. If hell is non-being, then no duality of good and evil continues to be, and in one important sense, hell will be empty. In another sense, hell may well be the final destiny o f the unredeemed and moreover there may well be some who actually are never redeemed. Perhaps God gives us every possible chance to choose faith, even b e y o n d death in purgatory, but perhaps some will say "no". If the choice is truly free, this must be possible, even if never actual. God finally then will not make us accept. If some refuse, then God has no choice but to say to them: "Not m y will, but yours be done - r e t u r n to the non-being from which I first called y o u . "