Theses on Hell

As a way of sorting through the stuff I've been thinking about with regards to universalism/inclusvism, I'm posting some points concerning the nature of Hell. Feel free to drop in with comments, criticisms, what not. As theses, I currently don't have arguments for these points, but I think they make intuitive sense.

1. Everyone in Hell must, given their characters at the time, necessarily be in Hell. It is not a contingent feature of the world that a person of X character is eternally saved or suffering.
2. For this reason, if someone is in Hell, they are in Hell due to some feature of God's character of of their own. It seems that these are the only two choices which would give grounds for the necessity of the 1st thesis.
3. Hell can be either retributive, redemptive, or unavoidable. The first is if we can say that sinners, due to some feature in their own character of of God's, must necessarily be punished. The second is if Hell would (at least possibly) lead to a better end for those punished. The third is if Hell is not a place of justice, but simply an unavoidable by-product of the way the world is, or of other decision which God has made concerning how the world would be set up.
4. Hell could only be retributive if God's nature demanded retribution. The person's own character cannot necessitate retribution without some source from outside herself mandating retribution, and if God only contingently wills retribution, then it would not be necessary and would not be truly just.
5. Given that God does forgive some, it is not absolutely necessary that God mete out retribution.
6. Given that there is no necessary link between explicit acceptance of Christ's death and God's forgiveness (though there is with the fact of Christ's death, incarnation, and resurrection), there is no relative necessity for why God must mete out retribution.
7. Retributive justice really doesn't make sense anyhow, and in theology it is largely an artifact of first feudal (with honor) and then capitalist (with debt) societies, rather than part of God's own character.
8. Hell, therefore, is either redemptive or unavoidable.
9. If Hell is unavoidable, then it is such due to the person's character and not God's nature (otherwise, we'd be talking about retribution).
10. Anyone who truly knows the good and realizes that apart from it, there is no good, would not necessarily hold out against it forever.
11. Hell is therefore either redemptive, or contingently unavoidable.
12. If exclusivism (that is, salvation through explicit acceptance of Jesus through that name or as translated and interpreted within a traditional Christian framework), then the gospel would be horrible news to most people; before, God could say, "What does the Lord require of you? To do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God," but now these very same activities not only could be non-salvific but anti-salvific, when they would cause someone to reject an often unjust, unmerciful, and prideful Christian witness.

Assorted Thoughts on Damnation

I've been finding that with the whole study concerning universalism, I've had to face issues from two different angles: the philosophical, and the existential, and that I've had to resolve them in almost opposite fashions. One the one hand, I just can't philosophically hold to any sort of exclusivism (except perhaps, reluctantly, to an annihilationist account), while existentially I've had to face the question of the possibility that I myself would be one of the damned.

Philosophically, I cannot see what the necessary connection would be between accepting Christ and salvation; I just can't conceive of salvation which doesn't involve fundamentally an change in being, and there seem to be other ways in which this could be mediated than through an explicit acceptance of Christ's work. Now, it may be that Christ's work has been actually necessary for the possibility of salvation (or at least the most fitting way in which God could have accomplished His goals); however, what is the link which leads from explicit acceptance to sanctification? The whole business commonly heard in Evangelical circles concerning this seems to be that "You need to accept what's been given to you for it to do any good; leaving an inheritance in the bank doesn't help you any." But why must an explicit acceptance of Christ be the only way to get this inheritance?

The only answer that I can see is that God has contingently willed it. This is possible, but I am having issues understanding how this could be a just method; I can't escape from the idea that this is a "secret password" soteriology, a kind of gnosis which leads to an enlightenment. Alternatively, perhaps God is just pulling all the strings, and using the explicit acceptance as a fitting marker for those He has elected; but I have yet to hear a coherent explanation of this which does not lead to double predestination, and any way in which a double predestination (other than Barth's) does not make God into a being worse than the devil, or to introduce amorality into the foundation of the universe.

So, why would we be commanded to preach to gospel if others could be saved apart from it? I can think of three reasons. First, the whole notion that "we must preach the gospel because otherwise no one will be saved" I find to be too utilitarian; isn't there a dimension to preaching which is simply rejoicing in what God has done, without having to worry about results? Couldn't simply glorification of God in God's grace and goodness be reason enough to preach?

Second, an analogy which I have heard before in this regard is that there is a building on fire, and we are the ones warning everyone to get out. It seems to me that this warning is still perfectly effective and needed, even if some people with different knowledge (perhaps they know about a fire in a different room, or an impending earthquake) also are warning people, and if some are sauntering out the doors, naturally exiting even if they do not know about the problem. Of course, there are places where this analogy breaks down (it doesn't really provide for sin, most importantly), but the point is this: preaching the gospel could still be important even if God has sovereignly provided other ways in which people could accept his grace through Christ.

Third, even if other people could ultimately be saved (that is, "saved" as in participating in the new creation from the non-smoking section) apart from hearing the gospel, they would not necessarily experience the fullness of salvation in this life otherwise (where salvation here would be the sancitification and healing of our human natures). There would be a reason to preach what Jesus has done and how He has lived, a living icon of our God, for this would teach others to walk likewise.

So, on the one hand, there are these philosophical issues, which I have trouble getting around. On the other hand, I've been wrestling with the following: I can only trust God as much as other people can; in effect, we are all isomorphic before God. If others can hope for God's mercy and be denied, so can I; if others can seek God with all their heart and be frustrated, so can I. No reason seems solid enough, no argument complete enough to make my faith certain, and I must admit that I have no idea what the "witness of the Spirit" is supposed to be. On a personal level, then, I've had to ask myself the question: what if God really were to damn me? All arguments aside, I've had (to start) to accept that whoever God damns, God damns in a perfectly good and just manner in a way that glorifies Him. I can hope that this would be nobody, but even if it weren't, anger at God for this is incoherent. So, I guess I have to trust that God will make things plain to me if this is His will, and if He does not and so damns me for this, it will be just, even if I can't see how.

Sanders's God Who Risks

Time for another article from Universal Salvation: The Current Debate, and this one hopefully won't be quite as polemic (side note: I do want to make it clear that it was merely a particular style of Calvinism which I found offensive; even if Strange was correct in his points, the blindness of the God-centeredness of other traditions is a poison in any view). In context, Talbott has argued that no one could knowingly choose Hell; it is an essentially irrational option, one which no one could choose with full knowledge, and it is not right to make people choose without full knowledge (or at least, God would not love them if He made them do such). Sanders' critique is not the only one; Walls also makes his case, and from the essays which I've read so far in the book, I think that Walls has the strongest. However, Sanders' concern lies in different areas.

Sanders considers that God has made risks in creation; although he does not bring it up in this essay, this is part of his open theism position. Before getting to the criticisms, one might ask what is it that would make Sanders take such a position? His reasoning seems to be largely pastoral: telling people who have suffered horribly that all will work out in the end just doesn't cut it, for him. He points to people who have lost faith due to tragedies, with nothing really coming out of it spiritually or otherwise; evil and suffering seem to truly be pointless sometimes, and he thinks that Talbott (as well as Calvinists) too lightly downplay this with some sort of "soul-making" theodicy.

So, instead of saying that God has planned out this world in every respect, Sanders' thinks that God has taken risks. Presumably, this is supposed to be a virtue, and so something which God should have. However, is there any non-anthropomorphic reason why we should consider risk-taking to be a virtue? It would seem to me that risk-taking is fundamentally bad, a necessary evil brought on by disadvantageous situations and finitude. As it is a necessity for us, we ought to develop fortitude in order to meet these challenges. Foolhardiness (which, as far as I can see it, is what unnecessary risk-taking is) is a vice, and even more so when the ones who ultimately pay are others. God may suffer pain from our sinning (although again, sometimes Sander's account seems to be blatant anthropomorphism, with nary an argument or exegeted Scripture passage to back it up), but God's pain cannot come close to the pain which the damned will feel through all eternity.

Another point which Talbott uses to defend his argument is this: how will we be able to rejoice in Heaven, while our loved ones are in Hell? Talbott assumes that God would have to perform a kind of lobotomy to get us to forget the people, and this does not seem fitting; therefore, they must be saved as well.

Sanders brings up two rejoinders. The first is that even in this life, sometimes we have to get over bad things happening concerning loved ones; perhaps a death, or perhaps the person in question has committed a serious crime. However, people live on anyhow. To this, I would respond that people do continue, but hardly in a blessed condition. What sort of Heaven would it be if we must all carry our emotional scars through all eternity, without any hope of healing except maybe growing forgetfulness of other people (assuming that our resurrection bodies are forgetful)?

His other rejoinder to Talbott, though, seems on the mark: just as God would have to perform a "lobotomy" on us in order to get us to forget our loved ones, so too God would have to fundamentally alter us in order to give us the full knowledge which we would need in order to make an informed decision. This would not be just a couple extra facts, though, but a complete change in our characters (side note: I really can't see any way around the philosophical necessity of some sort of Purgatory, though I can't find any theological justification for it). God would have to do violence to our beings, whereas it seems at least possible that we could naturally deal with the fact that loved ones would be in Hell.

Is Mercy Possible for All?

I'd like to actually argue for one of the points in the last posts, one which I've seen come up even more often than the others and which I myself have felt the force of at one time. This is the point that mercy, in order to be mercy, cannot be obligated, that the definition of mercy is something that one shouldn't get but does (and, by extension, to something that some don't get, but that one does). I've already posted my questions concerning the parallel notion of justice.

First, let us imagine a world in which God does actually forgive all sinners. We can say for the time being that this is not a necessary world, but either (if one likes counterfactuals of creaturely freedom) that God would create such a world, or that (otherwise) that is simply how an actual world will turn out. Now, let us imagine a world in which God forgives all but one sinner. Has the status of God's action hanged at all towards the rest? How can God's refusal of one sinner affect whether or not God had mercy on others?

Now, if this is true in the actual world, then why should that forgiveness of God towards beings in this actual world be affected by what God could have possibly done had God created a different world? Has God been merciful toward us based on the fact that God could have not been such? There seems to be no reason to think that modality has any influence on the mercifulness of an action (though, how would this tie in to discussions of libertarian free will? Would the same apply? Or is any action for the good, such as mercy, is fine whether or not it is determined, but any evil action can only carry moral responsibility if libertarianly free?).

I'm not sure about the analogy to possible worlds; coming from a classical theist standpoint, I think that there would also be other reasons to deny God's necessary obligation (though not God's actual obligations). This runs into the problem of how God's acts relate to God's nature, though. Perhaps one could say that any specific obligation can have come about or not come about, but that whatever one did obtain would be indicative of God's nature (so, there would be certain obligations that could not have come about, such as damning all those God has promised to save). Also, God is infinite and creation can only be finite, so creation must always only reveal a finite portion of God's nature, thus affecting what obligations may or may not come about. Or, perhaps we can say that what we really care about is God's identity rather than God's nature, and so it doesn't matter what God could have done; we just don't live in those possible worlds.

At any rate, the first argument (about this world) seems to be much more compelling, and is all the universalist would need to challenge some dominant notions, like that of Strange's; God can have mercy on all without this having any bearing on the quality of the mercy. I don't see why the notion of grace should fare any differently.

So, that takes care of necessitation (or at least universalization) aspect, unless I can hear some good reasons otherwise. The other notion is that mercy is undeserved. Is this to say that when I come across a starving, homeless person on the street that I happen to be in a perfect position to help, and decide to care for her, that either (a) my action is not merciful, or (b) that (barring other possible conflicting commitments) I have no obligation whatsoever to help her? Perhaps I could say that I have no obligation toward any one person, but I must help someone. As I don't have the way out of saying that it is because I must show my nature (and so therefore am ultimately only obligated to myself in whatever way I please), this action would be obligatory and yet merciful.

This also shows how mercy and justice are compatible, and really two expressions of the same attribute. Which fits much better with divine simplicity (God doesn't have to worry within Himself over how to reconcile the two!), and also seems to fit the Biblical model better (What does the Lord require of you? To do justly, to love mercy, and the walk humbly with your God), which does not seem to see any problem with the two.

Thought--Stream on Strange's "Calvinist Response"

I've been working through the book Universal Salvation? The Current Debate, and I have some thoughts on the articles that I've been reading; however, this present one is starting to get my blood boiling and, combined with the presence of a computer, I figure that I'll actually get a response out. I've found all of these in many other places, and they are by and large part of the reason why I will no longer touch most works written by Calvinists. Please excuse the polemic, but I'm awfully tired of the smug assurance that certain theologians have when it comes to offering their views, and the way in which these statements are taken to be so self-evident to so many in the church.

• I really don't like it when Calvinists (Augustinians?) co-opt divine sovereignty and the "Godness" of God; as if affirming those automatically meant that one had to agree with them!
• Tied to this, Strange posits that there one either has a God-centered theology or a man-centered one. Not only does this seem to me to plainly be a false dichotomy (what if God has eternally elected to be for us, to use Barth's phrase?), but "God-centered" theologies of any sort seem to me to be excuses for letting one's own preconceptions of God and God's word run wild with impunity, to resist letting one's theology be open to the Other and instead remaining in one's own little comfortable space, with answers to all of life's major questions.
• If, as Strange notes, all sin is ultimately against God, then why doesn't this count for the Arminian/Universalist case? If it is against God, then God could be free to forgive it. But all this is, of course, brushed away because Talbott does not "truly understand the sinfulness of sin." I still fail to see why God can't be big enough to overlook insults; it seems to me like this "God-centered" theology" is still reliant on human concerns. (Note: it could be that there would be other reasons for Hell and for eternal punishment, I just don't think that the whole honor thing or the "de-godding God" line work.) Considering that God does this for some, it doesn't seem like that big a step to say that He could (whether or not He does) do it for all. But, I guess I'm just not "counter-cultural" enough to appreciate God's nature.
• "My fear is that in rejecting the concept of retributive punishment, the cross loses much of its meaning and power, a fear shared by other Calvinist thinkers...." Granted, the problem of atonement is a sticky one, and Talbott (the main universalist in the collection of essays) may not really be able to provide for penal substitution (though this is not the only form of substitutionary atonement, and one must also wrestle with the extent to which the Biblical passages on the matter are literal descriptions of how are sins have been borne away, and the extent to which they are metaphors, analogies to help us to understand without nailing down a given system). However, is the cross the only part of Christ's life which is salvific? As one of my professors puts it, could Christ have come down at the beginning of Holy Week and simply gone through that in order to save us? Or does the Incarnation have a role to play as well, not to mention the Resurrection? Doesn't the cross gain much of its power from the larger narrative? If so, though, then there is no reason to assume that other emphases must take away from the message of the cross.
• Also, regarding the notion that "propitiation . . . is the most important concept because of its Godward reference.": Is this all it takes to be a "God-centered theology"? Wasn't the point of Christ's advent his becoming nothing? Isn't the nature of God shown in self-giving love as well, and so therefore in his being for humanity, despite having been sinned against? Peppering a theology with piety does not make it true, or even God-honoring.
• "What do we mean when we say that God is love? From the perspective of God's essential and necessary being, this must be referring to the intratrinitarian love the divine Persons share with each other." People can judge my likely state of mind from the previous comments. I would like to add that the Bible is not a book of metaphysics; and metaphysical entailments which it carries (aside from things like "God exists") generally must be pretty carefully exegeted. It would be perfectly fine to say that "God is love," in natural speech and to be affirming God's identity as He has willed Himself to be toward us, and not His essential being-in-Himself. To claim that God's love for Himself must be the only thing suggested by this passage as following from "soli Deo Gloria" is just mistaken, though I do agree that God's self-love is not narcissism.
• Strange quotes approvingly from Helm and Jenson: "A justice that could be unilaterally waived would not be justice, and a mercy which could not be unilaterally waived would not be mercy." On the contrary: if one steps away from the legalistic, externalist approach to justice and mercy, as if they are attributes that can only depending on what else has or has not been done and are instead intrinsic qualities of agents/actions, then justice and mercy have nothing to do with being waived or not. Justice is righting wrongs, and mercy is simply reaching down to help someone worse off (I can have mercy on people who have never wronged me as well as those who have, and I would think that my position in front of God obligates me to be merciful to all).
• On a related note, Strange mentions that universalism and attendant claims upon God's love would obligate God toward creation. Perhaps; but wouldn't the necessity of God's damning sinners do the same? But that's part of God's nature, the response would be. But what's the difference? Why is it so bad that God would act with love and graciousness toward all due to His nature, but good that God would be forced to condemn sinners (who are sinners due to His own choosing, on the compatibilist scheme) due to His nature? It seems that the former is more consistent with His self-revelation in Christ.
• Strange mentions three types of God's love: (1) Intratrinitarian, (2) Universal, providential, and non-salvific, and (3) Particular, effective, and salvific. (1) and (3) are fine. (2), as rendered by Strange, is hardly a type of love at all. What sort of love would I have for my wife if I told her that I would do the chores at home, support her, and generally not give her that bad a life, even though I would divorce her in a year no matter what? Maybe we could improve this, so that I divorce her for unfaithfulness, which in turn stems from my having controlled her mind to become unfaithful in the first place (but according to her desires!); however, she would be safe if she would repeat back to me in a year a password which I may or may not tell her, and which is undiscoverable otherwise. True, the situation could be worse, but this is scarcely to be called love, and unworthy of being called the love of God for humanity as shown throughout Scripture and in Christ. When one roasts for all eternity, one less experienced cool Spring breeze is scarcely relevant.

I really wish that Evangelical (and Reformed, for that matter) Calvinists of this particular sort (there are better sorts, I realize) would pick up someone outside reading. I can't imagine that anyone without such a small theological bubble could even begin to state that all of this is the necessary result of soli Deo Gloria and God-centered theology.