Hell (part 2)

I notice that on Nov. 8, 2010 I published an essay on ‘hell’ and titled it ‘Hell (part 1)’.  For whatever unintended reason or oversight I failed to publish my intended ‘part two.’ This is ‘part two,’ four years later. To make any sense of today’s offering it would be well to go to my archives and review part one before continuing on. 

 

In even addressing such a subject I know that my statistical ‘ratings’ will fall because in our sophisticated scientific ‘enlightened’ time the subject is summarily dismissed as being an absurdity. Yet millions upon millions of people on earth—including me—believe in the logical concept and construct as an extension of our familiarity with mortal life, the promises of God and Jesus Christ, and the hope for a heaven—a positive and joyful afterlife condition for the righteous—and hell (at least as a temporary abode) as a consequence for those who are or succumb to evil. 

Could there not be some kernel of truth to the continued longevity of this concept? There is.  Most of us take cognizance of the war between good and bad, the virtuous and the evil, because we experience it personally—internally.  We also see it played-out socially in current events and geo-politically between nations, cultures, and world-views. Evil is too often in us, and always ‘out there.’ 

The problem in this diabolical attribution is the absurd portrayal of the ‘devil’ and his instruments of torture for those who find themselves in God’s disfavor and of the place where evil is concentrated and combated (hell).  As in most things, there is ‘more to the story,’ or in this case the divine revelation of the story, as I believe it has been given, and not just a fiction writer’s imagination.  But before I go on, even some fiction can be very helpful in understanding the evil or counter-point to all that we try to do which is good. 

C. S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters, for example, is helpful to understanding Satan’s methods.  In classical literature Dante Alighieri’s allegory of hell, The Divine Comedy, both helps and hurts understanding.  If readers understand the symbols are not the reality (as portrayed in these works) then more light can shed on this dark subject.  The same can be said of John Bunyan’s classical work, The Pilgrim’s Progress.

Scripture, though, tells us that Satan, a.k.a. the devil, an unembodied spirit through his premortal rebellion, is a fallen angel. (We humans are embodied spirits.) Satan has a great arsenal of counter-spiritual ‘weapons’ or blandishments (we call them temptations) that influence man against that which is good or right or life-affirming.  People who fall to evil behavior and who do not repent (change) while in mortality will suffer the consequences of it, at least for a time--the time it takes in which "every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is the Christ," --in the afterlife.   

The suffering, though, is primarily deprivation or mental anguish at realizing ‘what could have been; and will consequently be eternally denied;’ it is not pitchforks, boiling oil or the like.  The suffering of those consigned to hell is that they have been ‘damned’ or stopped as a consequence of their own choices and dismissal of God's plan of salvation in their eternal progress.  Yet their mental sufferings eventually, and mercifully, come to an end. These individuals will then, at the final judgment, receive the degree of 'heaven,' but not the highest, that they have qualified for and in justice merit.

At least that is what my religion teaches, and it makes good sense to me. 

Montaigne

Many years ago I had the good fortune to find a copy of Michel de Montaigne’s book of essays at a garage sale or the dump’s recycling shop or some like location.  I have happily rediscovered it in one of those attic boxes full of stuff that we all say ‘I might need this one day.’  And it is true: I do need it to remind me of the delight that can be had by reading an inquisitive, far-reaching, utterly unpretentious yet self-appraising mind, a small piece of which, by the reading, must have rubbed off on me. 

   

His book of essays gives me a clue, or provides for me another piece to the puzzle of who I am, for I am always, like him, engaged in the occupations of observation outwardly and self-appraisal, but not self-preoccupation, inwardly (“Let a man examine himself…” 1 Corinthians 11:28). One—observation—influences the other—self-appraisal.

This essay, for example, was precipitated by my yesterday’s essay where I disparaged the notion of MY (me, myself, I) a preoccupation with the self that I find so distastefully proclaimed in public by others but in its refined form of ‘self-appraisal’ find so privately necessary for myself.  Unlike him, my treatment of anything—even the most serious of subjects—regretfully is not done with such good humor.  Like him, my essays are not confined by the titles I give them.  Again, like Montaigne, I think of myself as a browser because, by my (and his) experience, a couple of interesting thoughts or stories in one book or current event will always remind me of something or someone smarter, or more interesting in another book, and I open that.

Though he is something of a gadfly, he is also a visionary; he lands on and expresses some really profound and useful thoughts: “In a truly loving relationship—which I have experienced—rather than drawing the one I love to me I give myself to him,” he says.  “Not merely do I prefer to do him good than to have him do good to me, I would even prefer that he did good to himself rather than to me: it is when he does good to himself that he does most good to me.”

He is, of course, a moralist.  But reading him is like talking with a very old friend.  He is not pompous for he readily admits, as most men should, that inconsistency is an identifying psychological characteristic of human beings in general. “We are all a patchwork,” he says.  “We become so many different people in ourselves, at so many different times.”  “There is as much difference between us and ourselves as between us and others.”  He candidly despairs of making any sense of himself:  He writes, “All contradictions may be found in me. . . bashful, insolent; chaste, lascivious; talkative, taciturn; tough, delicate; clever, stupid; surly, affable; lying, truthful; learned, ignorant; liberal, miserly and prodigal.” 

He reminds me of another great man taken from his own scriptural confession: “My heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am!  Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.  I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.  And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.  My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness . . . he hath filled me with his love . . . he hath heard my cry. . .” (2 Nephi 4:17-23).

Montaigne (like Nephi) is without question one of my heroes, another giant in my pantheon of visionaries, yet a man, like all of us, who puts on his pants one leg at a time.  What an encouragement!

My Music

It is strange that I would give part of the title to this posting the pronoun ‘my,’ but I do it to illustrate that we all are being bombarded by invitations to come in to the place or the cyber-site of MY Toyota, or MY Bank of America, or MY Save-a Smile dentist, or MY space or whatever.  It is strange because people who profusely use the pronouns ‘my’ and ‘I’ in their conversations invariably put ‘me’ off.  The person who enters a room with “I’m here!” as contrasted with the person who says, in effect, “You’re here!” tells me more than I want to know about them.  

In any case, back to the point of music. . . .  I read (or heard) not long ago the observation made by an Islamist-watcher—or Muslim I had been talking with—I don’t remember which—who said that devout Muslims do not or are not allowed to listen to music.  I have been assiduously ploughing through the Qur’an (Koran) in the past few weeks to confirm this and other doctrines attributed to the Islamic religion, but have not yet found the music doctrine. (My English language copy of the Qur’an does not have an index.)  If this imputation is true, I find it to be astonishing.  Music, at least the genres I listen to, can be superbly pacific and inspiring and uplifting.  A life without music is to experience a great deprivation. If true, it may explain some things about the Islamic faith. 

I further explore this topic (rather shallowly, I admit) by relating to you a very interesting—and seemingly unrelated-- interview I heard on NPR last week (Feb. 3, 2015) about a songwriter named Rose Marie McCoy, who died last month at age 92.  Audie Cornish, the host of NPR’s All Things Considered, interviewed producer Joe Richman of Radio Diaries about Rose Marie McCoy on this program six years ago, and he brought us this remembrance.  Rose Marie was a black woman who wrote over 850 songs, many of which were popular in the 1950’s and ‘60’s.  Some were sung by well-known artists such as Elvis Presley, The Platters, The Four Tops, Ertha Kitt, Bette Midler, and numerous other less-well known singers.  Some were never sung at all.

A quotation from Rose Marie McCoy makes the point that I want to emphasize today.  She said, referring to the boxes and boxes of tapes of songs she had written—many apparently never produced and distributed—and kept in the living room of her little house, “I keep all of my tapes - country songs, gospel songs, pop songs, every kind of song. I'm just going to wait till love come back in style. That's a good title.”

“I’m just going to wait ‘Till love come[s] back in style.’”  Her songs, some of which I heard, dealt with love—finding it, losing it, needing it, valuing it.  That is indeed a good title.

This lyric haunts me every Christmas, (not written by Ms. McCoy): “For hate is strong, and mocks the song, of Peace on Earth, Good Will to men.”

The antidote?  “What the World Needs Now is Love, Sweet Love.” Music can set the tone of so many interactions.   

Old Schooler-Scholar: Observations, Opinions, Reflections

As promised, this is my first offering of Omnium-Gatherum- Millerum in a new look and with a new name.  It is still a miscellaneous ‘gathering’ of things of value to me, and to be true to my mission the content will be much the same as in the past: current event opinion pieces, ruminations on cultural trends, moral guidance, wisdom from great minds of the past (my ‘heros’), poetry—my own and others’, insights from my own life’s experiences, religious applications to principles of living through adversity, poverty, wealth, social change, and some occasional wholesome humor. 

 

My choice of material comes from my own personal reading in contemporary news sources and public opinion pages, insights from modern science and political and social science, modern fiction literature, and in listening to/viewing interviews, debates and analyses on N.P.R., TED talks, and in local forums.

  

I then filter all this input through the lens of classical literature, scripture—ancient and modern (yes, there is modern scripture), history and philosophy, my own formal education, and my religious convictions and life experience as a dedicated ‘observer’ and disciple of Jesus Christ.  I rely heavily on insights from the cultural and intellectual ‘giants’ of the past and the present, but I also greatly value and use the intelligence and experience, and spiritual companions and ‘Companion’ God has given me

.

Through this mix of inputs comes a ‘world view,’ or better said, a much larger ‘cosmic-spiritual view’ that drives my life in a positive way and that I share with you.  I hope you will find something here—if not today or tomorrow but some day soon if you keep reading—that will enrich your life. 

 

I also encourage you to look back through my archives (to the right) covering some 275+ postings over the past five years—I think you will find something there that will touch your mind or heart or resonate with you (or provoke you) to share your views with others’ who you care to influence for the good.

 

I submit to you, my friends, a continuing view from the ‘shoulders of giants.’

Comments from my readers are always welcome.