(This article originally appeared in The Wanderer and is reprinted with permission. To subscribe call (651) 224-5733.)
What is the issue between them? In January of this year, in his column in the New Oxford Review, Vree accused Neuhaus of embracing the notion of “universalism,” the belief that all men and woman, regardless of their earthly behavior, will ultimately be saved, because, in Neuhaus’ words, “nobody is beyond the reach of God’s love and mercy.”
Vree argued that taking this position ignores Jesus’ repeated and specific warnings about a place of eternal punishment for those who die without repenting for their serious sins; and also implies a moral relativism at odds with Catholic teaching. Neuhaus countered by charging Vree with misreading him and leaping to uncharitable conclusions about his intentions, insisting that his point is only that there are grounds for hoping for universal salvation because “God’s plan is not to rescue a religious elite from an otherwise botched creation but to restore all things in Christ… The theme is the cosmic Christ and the cosmic promise of salvation.”
I must admit that I have enjoyed the debate up until now. Both men are informed and lively writers, whose work I have profited from over the years. It has been interesting to see them bat around the theological dimensions to this question. But I am now having second thoughts. There is the hint of an unfortunate personal animosity in their recent exchanges. But Vree and Neuhaus are big boys. I don’t think they will need any mediators to smooth things over.
Who is right? I think I’ll pass. I am not a theologian or Scripture scholar. But I will say this: Vree has demonstrated convincingly that – at the very least – Jesus wanted us to live our lives with the fear of going to Hell. I don’t see how anyone can deny that. The biblical passages Vree quotes – Jesus’ warnings about “furnaces of fire” where there will be much “wailing and the gnashing of teeth,” for example — are too numerous to ignore. That said, I think Neuhaus offers insights we should ponder. I found an unattractive dimension to many of the letters-to-the-editor of the New Oxford Review critical of Neuhaus. You got the impression that some of these folks would not forgive God if He forgave anyone they deemed unworthy of absolution.
Such surliness does our side no good. Defending traditional beliefs against the relativists does not require that we become cranks. While we should be uncompromising about which behaviors are sinful, grievous matters — we have Jesus’ teachings and the Magisterium to guide us in making these judgments — we are out of bounds when we make assumptions about who is going to Hell. This is not ours to know. We cannot judge whether those who have committed a grievous act have also gone through the sufficient reflection and granted the full consent of the will required for a mortal sin.
I suspect that all of us can come up with experiences in our own lives to underscore this point. It was when I was a young man and working as a bartender that I first learned the lesson. A few times each month, the club where I worked would rent its facilities to a group that sponsored dances — “mixers” — for Catholic singles. It was not unusual to have a crowd of over a thousand people between the age of 25 and 40 at these functions. I discovered early on that my first impressions about who was upright and who was a sinner could be misleading; that many of the young men and women heading home alone after an innocent night of dancing were disappointed that things had turned out that way.
How do I know that? Well, with some of the men it was obvious. At the end of the night, the cologne-soaked lotharios in the sharkskin suits would stop for one for the road and some sympathy because they had “struck out” that night. And the women? Well you would be surprised at how much a bartender can glean from bar stool conversations while mixing the whiskey sours.
But let me give you a specific example of what I am talking about. One night as I passed the hatcheck room, the women who worked there were laughing uproariously. They waved me over. They had accidentally dropped a woman’s coat and — how can I put this delicately? — the necessary “equipment” for an anticipated sexual encounter fell to the floor. I am talking about birth control devices and the like. This woman was clearly hoping to go home with a man with some lusty intentions. The laughter intensified as the hat check girls wondered aloud if the man she picked up would realize what he was getting himself into that weekend.
It turned out that there was no such “lucky” guy. This woman went home alone, from all outward appearances a straight-laced All-American girl heading home early to get a good night’s sleep before an early Mass. She too had “struck out.” Only God — and the hat check girls — knew her intentions. Those who judged her by her behavior would be wrong. She was looking for a chance to engage in some grievous matter. She did not sleep around that weekend, but she wanted to.
The same point could be made about the women who were thought to be “swingers.” Anyone judging their character by the number of times they were taken home by young men on the make, would conclude that they were not women of virtue. Several women who were regulars at these mixers fell into this category. I am not exaggerating: as soon as they stepped into the room, attentive and eager males swooped down upon them like wolves after a wounded doe. These gals had the kind of brassy good looks that went over well in the atmosphere of the barroom.
Were they promiscuous? I don’t know. But the point is that even if they were, these women faced far more and stronger temptations to sin than many of the women who went home alone. What if these women fought off the advances of most of the men who took them home most of the time, but slipped and engaged in illicit sexual conduct on rare occasions? Would they be greater sinners than the woman with the pocketful of birth control devices who may never have achieved the opportunity to sin that she was hoping for?
I am glad that these are not decisions I have to make. Which is the point. I don’t have to make them. God will handle the moral calculus. He knows our consciences. Human observers do not; they are beyond their pay grade when they make judgements about who is going to Hell.
