The Soul in Grace or in Sin | Saint Teresa of Avila

Sin of Despair

 

Denial of sins and Judas Iscariot

Judas Iscariot betrayal of Jesus

Stuck in Denial

Excerpt from the Book 

Lent and Easter Reflections - 

Catholic Daily Reflections Series 

by John Paul Thomas

(Wednesday of Holy Week)

“The Son of Man indeed goes, as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed.  It would be better for that man if he had never been born.” Then Judas, His betrayer, said in reply, “Surely it is not I, Rabbi?”  He answered, “You have said so.”  Matthew 26:25

Was Judas in denial? Did he truly think that he was not the one who was to betray Jesus?  We do not know for certain what was going on in Judas’ mind, but one thing is clear. . . he did betray Jesus.  And it appears from his words that he didn’t see his act as a betrayal and, therefore, he was in deep denial.

Denial, if written out as an acronym, has been said to mean that I “don’t know I am lying.” Perhaps Judas was so steeped in his own sin that he couldn’t even admit to himself, let alone to others, that he was lying and preparing to betray Jesus for money.  This is a scary thought.

It’s scary because it reveals one of the effects of persistent sin. 

Persistent sin makes sin easier.  

And eventually, when one persists in the same sin, 

that sin is easily rationalized, 

justified and denied as sin altogether.  

When one gets stuck in this downward spiral 

of persistent sin it’s hard to get out.  

And often the only way to survive the psychological tension is to remain in denial.

Judas the Betrayer

This is an important lesson for us this Holy Week.  Sin is never fun to look at and takes great courage to do so.  But imagine if Judas would have actually confessed to what he was about to do.  Imagine if he would have broken down in front of Jesus and the other Apostles and told them the whole truth.  Perhaps that act of honesty would have saved his life and eternal soul.  It would have been painful and humiliating for him to do so, but it would have been the right thing to do.

The same is true with you.  Perhaps you are not to a point where your sin is leading you to outright betrayal of Jesus, but everyone can find some pattern of sin in their lives this Holy Week. You must seek to discover, with God’s help, some pattern or habit you have formed.  What a great discovery this would be if you could then face this sin with honesty and courage.  This would enable you to shed any bit of denial regarding your sin and enable you to conquer that sin so as to discover the freedom God wants you to experience!

Reflect today, upon Judas saying to Jesus, “Surely it is not I, Rabbi?”  This sad statement from Judas must have deeply wounded our Lord’s Heart as He witnessed the denial of Judas.  Reflect, also, upon the many times that you deny your sin, failing to sincerely repent.  Make this Holy Week a time for honesty and integrity.  The Lord mercy is so deep and pure that, if you would understand it, you would have no need to remain in any form of denial of your sins.

Lord, help me this Holy Week to have the courage I need to face my sin and weakness.  I am a sinner, dear Lord, but it can be very hard for me to admit it.  May I entrust my sin to You so that I may be set free and receive, in its place, Your abundant mercy.  Jesus I trust in You.

Excerpt from the Book 

Lent and Easter Reflections - 

Catholic Daily Reflections Series 

by John Paul Thomas

I highly recommend this book you can order it on Amazon..books and Kindle edition.

Sins are Numbered - Tremble and Sin No More

St. Alphonsus Liguori

From the Book, 

"Preparation for Death: Considerations on Eternal Truths" 

by St. Alphonsus Liguori

Consideration XVIII: The Number of Sins

“Because sentence is not speedily pronounced against evil, 

the children of men commit evil without fear.” – Eccles. 8:11

FIRST POINT

The Measure is Determined for Each One

IF God instantly chastises the man who insults him, we certainly should not see him so much outrages as we do at present.  But because the Lord does not instantly punish sinners, but waits for them, they are encouraged to offend him the more.  It is necessary to understand that, though God waits and bears, he does not wait and bear forever.  

It is the opinion of many holy Fathers – of St. Basil, St. Jerome, St. Ambrose, St. Cyril of Alexandria, St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and others – that as God, according to the words of Scripture, 

Wis. 11:21, 

Thou hast ordered all things in measure, 

and number and weight has fixed for each 

the number of his days, the degrees of health and talent 

which he will give to him, 

so he has also determined the number of sins 

that he will pardon; 

and when this number is completed, 

he will pardon no more.  

Eusebius of Caesarea says the same thing: “God waits up to a certain number, and afterwards abandons;” and so speak also the above-mentioned Fathers.

And these Fathers  have not spoken at random, but according to the sacred Scriptures.  In one place the Lord says that he restrained his vengeance against the Amorrithes, because the number of their sins was not as yet filled up:  For as yet the iniquities of the Amorrithes (Amorites*) are not at the full (Gen 15:16).  In another place he says: I will not add any more to have mercy on the house of Israel (Os. I,6).  Again he says: All the men who have tempted Me ten times shall not see the land (Num. 15:22).  Thou hast, says Job, sealed up my offences as it were in a bag (Job 14:16).  

Sinners keep no account of their sins; but God keeps an account of them, that when the harvest is ripe, that is, when the number of sins is completed, he may take vengeance on them.  Put ye in the sickles; for the harvest is ripe (Joel 3:13).  

handwriting on the wall—Mene, Thecel, Phares

In another place he says: Be not without fear about sin forgiven, and add not sin to sin (Sirach 5:5**).  As if he said: O sinner! You must tremble even on account of the sins which I have forgiven you; for it you add another, if may happen that this new sin, along with those which have been pardoned, may complete the number, then there will be no more mercy for you.  The Lord waiteth patiently, that when the day of judgment shall come, he may punish them in the fullness of their sins (2 Mac. 6:14).  God waits till the measure of iniquities is filled up, and then he chastises the sinner.

Of such chastisements there are many examples in the Scriptures.  Saul disobeyed God a second time, and was abandoned.  When he entreated Samuel to intercede for him, saying: Bear, I beseech thee, my sin, and return with me that I may adore the Lord, Samuel answered:  I will not return with thee, because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, and the Lord hath rejected thee (1 Kings15:25).  

We have also the example of Balthasar, who, after having profaned the vessels of the temple at table, saw a handwriting on the wall—Mene, Thecel, Phares. Daniel came, and in explaining the words, among other things, said: Thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting (Dan. 5:27).  By these words he gave the king to understand that in the balance of divine justice the weight of his sins had made the scale descend.  The same night Balthasar, the Chaldean king, was killed.  

Oh ! how many miserable sinners meet with a similar fate!  

They live many years, multiplying sins; 

but when the number is filled up, 

they are struck dead, and cast into hell! 

 They spend their days in wealth, and in a moment they go down to hell (Job 21:13).  

There are some who spend their time in investigating the number of the stars, the number of the angels, or the number of years which each one will live.  

But who can discover the number of sins 

which God will pardon each individual?  

We should, therefore, tremble.  

My brother, it may be that God will pardon you no more after the first criminal pleasure which you indulge, after the first thought to which you consent, or after the first sin which you commit.

Contrite Heart

Affections

and Prayers

Behold me, O my God!  at Thy feet.  I am that disgusting dog that has so often eaten the forbidden apples, which I before detested.  I do not deserve mercy: but, O My Redeemer!  The Blood which Thou shed for me encourages me and obliges me to hope for it.  

How often have I offended Thee and Thou hast pardoned me!  I promised never more to offend Thee, and I have afterward returned to the vomit: (Prov 26:11) and Thou has again pardoned me! What do I wait for?  Is it that Thou mayest send me to hell, or that Thou mayest abandon me into the hand of my sins, which would be a greater punishment than hell?  

No, my God!  I wish to amend: and in order to be faithful to Thee, I will put all my confidence in Thee, I will, whenever tempted, always and instantly have recourse to Thee.  

Hitherto I have trusted in my promises and resolutions, and have neglected to recommend myself to Thee in my temptations: this has been the cause of my ruin.  Henceforth Thou shalt be my hope and my strength, and thus I shall be able to do all things.

I can do all things in Him that strengthened me. (Phil 4:13).  Give me grace then, O my Jesus, through Thy merits, to recommend myself to Thee, and to ask Thy aid in my wants.  I love Thee, O Sovereign Good, amiable above every good.  I wish to love Thee alone; but it is from Thee I must receive aid to love Thee.  

O Mary, my Mother! Do thou also assist me by thy intercession; keep me under thy protection, and make me always invoke thee when I am tempted.  Thy name shall be my defence.

*Amorites (Amorrithes)

The Amorites

. . . the isolated remnants of the Amorites, who in pre-Philistine and pre-Israelitish times had occupied a large part of the country west of the Jordan.

Amorites.(From the pylon of the Ramesseum.)

In Tosef., Shab. (vii. [viii.] 23), and generally in post-Biblical literature, the Canaanites are usually spoken of as the Amorites (compare Assumptio Mosis, xi. 16; B. M. 25b); and they were characterized by R. Jose, the chronicler, as the most intractable of all nations. To the apocryphal writers of the first and second pre-Christian century they are the main representatives of heathen superstition, loathed as idolaters, in whose ordinances Israelites may not walk (Lev. xviii. 3).

A special section of the Talmud (Tosef., Shab. vi.-vii. [vii.-viii.]; Bab. Shab. 67a et seq.) is devoted to the various superstitions called "The Ways of the Amorites." 

According to the Book of Jubilees (xxix. [9] 11), "the former terrible giants, the Rephaim, gave way to the Amorites, an evil and sinful people whose wickedness surpasses that of any other, and whose life will be cut short on earth." In the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch (lx.) they are symbolized by "black water" on account of "their black art, their witchcraft and impure mysteries, by which they contaminated Israel in the time of the Judges."

http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/1422-amorites

**Sirach 5:5-7 Sirach 5:5-7Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition (DRA)

5 Be not without fear about sin forgiven, and add not sin upon sin:

6 And say not: The mercy of the Lord is great, he will have mercy on the multitude of my sins.

7 For mercy and wrath quickly come from him, and his wrath looketh upon sinners.

Prayer of Contrition

Christ Teaching - Sermon on the Mount

Jesus, Forgive me!

O Eternal Word!  

You have spent three-and-thirty years in labors and fatigues; 

You have given Your life and Your blood for man’s salvation; 

in short, You have spared nothing to make men love you; 

and how is it possible that there should be those who know this, and yet do not love You?

O God, amongst these ungrateful ones I also may be numbered!  

I see the wrong I have done You; 

O my Jesus, have pity upon me!  

I offer You this ungrateful heart ungrateful it is true, but penitent.

Yes, I repent of every evil, 

O my dear Redeemer, for having despised You!  

I repent, and I am sorry with my whole heart.  

O my soul, love a God Who is bound like a criminal for you; 

a God scourged like a slave for you; 

a God made a mocking for you;  

a God, in short, dead upon a cross, as the vilest outcast for you!

Yes, My Saviour, let me remember, I beseech You, all that You have suffered for me that I may never more forget to love You!

O cords that bound my Jesus, 

bind me to Jesus; 

thorns that crowned my Jesus, 

pierce me with the love of Jesus;

nails that transfixed my Jesus, 

nail me to the Cross of Jesus  

O blood of Jesus, 

inebriate me with His Holy Love!  

O death of Jesus, 

make me die to every earthly affection!  

Pierced feet of my Lord, 

I embrace you; 

deliver me from hell, which I have deserved; 

my Jesus, in hell I could no more love You, 

and yet I desire to love You always.  

Save me, my dearest Saviour; 

bind me to Yourself, that I may never again lose You.

O Mary, refuge of Sinners, and Mother of my Saviour!  

Help a sinner who wishes to love God, and who recommends himself to you; help me for the love you bear for Jesus Christ.

Wisdom of Augustine: A Sacrifice to God is a Contrite Spirit

From a sermon by Saint Augustine, Bishop

I acknowledge my transgressions, says David.  

If I admit my fault, then you will pardon it.  

Let us never assume 

that if we live good lives 

we will be without sin; 

our lives should be praised only 

when we continue to beg for pardon.  

But men are hopeless creatures, and the less they concentrate on their own sins the more interested they become in the sins of others.  They seek to criticize, not to correct.  Unable to excuse themselves, they are ready to accuse others.  

This was not the way that David showed us how to pray and make amends to God, when he said: I acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever before me. 

He did not concentrate 

on others’ sins;

he turned his thoughts upon himself.  

He did not merely stroke the surface, but he plunged inside and went deep down within himself, and therefore was not impudent in asking to be spared.

Do you want God to be appeased?  

Learn what you are to do that 

God may be pleased with you.  

Consider the psalm again: If you wanted sacrifice, I would indeed have given it; in burnt offerings you will take no delight.  Are you to offer nothing?  Will you please God without offering?  

King David

Consider what you read in the same psalm: If you wanted sacrifice, I would indeed have given it, in burnt offerings you will take no delight.  But continue to listen, and say with David: A sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit; God does not despise a contrite and humble spirit.  

Cast aside your former offerings, for now you have found out what you are to offer.  In the days of your fathers you would have made offerings of cattle—these were the sacrifices.  If you wanted sacrifice, I would indeed have given it.  These then, Lord, you do not want, and yet you do want sacrifice.

You will take no delight in burnt offerings, David says.  If you will not take delight in burnt offerings, will you remain without sacrifice?  Not at all.  

A sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit; 

God does not despise a contrite 

and humble heart.

You now have the offering you are to make.  No need to examine the herd, no need to outfit ships and travel to the most remote provinces in search of incense.  

Search within your heart 

for what is pleasing to God.  

Your heart must be crushed.  

Are you afraid that it might perish so?  You have to reply: Create a clean heart in me, O God.  

For a clean heart to be created, 

the unclean one must be crushed.

We should be displeased with ourselves when we commit sin, for sin is displeasing to God.  

Sinful though we are, 

let us at least be like God in this, 

that we are displeased at what displeases Him. 

In some measure than you will be  in harmony with God’s Will, because you find displeasing in yourself what is abhorrent to your Creator.

Beg His Mercy and He will come and lift you up.

REPENTANCE ALL OF US NEED IT -- Prayer by St. Alphonsus Liguori

St. Alphonsus of Liguori Spoke of Repentance

"God has said that when a sinner repents their sins are so good as forgotten.  Says Ezekiel: None of the crimes he committed shall be remembered against him.

Whenever you fall into a fault immediately raise your eyes to God, make an act of love and confessing your fault you may rest assured pardon.”

A Prayer for Repentance by St. Alphonsus

Say to God –

“Master, the one you love is ill, 

the heart which you love is sick, covered with sores.

Lord, have Mercy on me –

Forgive me, I’ve sinned against you.

You, God, go out in search for sinners, 

here is one at your feet, who has come in search of you.

The evil has been done – what should I do now?

You do not want me to lose confidence in You.  

Even now, after my sin, you wish me only good and 

I love you as well – as my God.

I love you with all my heart and I regret the displeasure 

I have given you.  I resolve never to do so again.

Forgive me – You, Who are God – 

Kind and forgiving, 

most loving to those who call on You.

Let me hear those words 

you said to Mary Magdalene, 

“Your sins are forgiven.”

Give me the strength to be faithful to You in the future.

Amen.

Not a Popularity Contest YOU MUST SPEAK THE TRUTH

Are you on the way to Hell??

This world has turned from God so much 

that the souls in it are racing down 

the road to hell and eternal damnation!!!  

ARE WE AMONG THEM?

Our duty as Catholics is to stand up even against all odds -- even unto our own death to tell souls the TRUTH of Christ's Teachings.  

HOMOSEXUALITY IS WRONG!!

ABORTION IS WRONG!!

CONTRACEPTION IS WRONG!!

GAY MARRIAGE IS WRONG!!

Watch this video by Micheal Voris titled "Not a Popularity Contest".  Not a Popularity Contest  

http://www.churchmilitant.com/news/article/not-a-popularity-contest

He speaks clearly about our duties as Catholics.  

To remain SILENT is a sin.  

Christ said we would be hated 

as He was hated.  

To be His True Follower 

we must accept this Martyrdom even to death!!!!

HELP SPREAD THE TRUTH 

FOR WE ARE ACCOUNTABLE TO GOD

AS TO WHAT WE DID TO SAVE OTHERS...

WHAT WILL GOD SAY TO YOU?

Not a Popularity Contest  

http://www.churchmilitant.com/news/article/not-a-popularity-contest

Zachary King - Former Satanic High Priest

God's Mercy for Sinners

Remember to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet at least on Good Friday through to 2nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) 
as Christ requested.

Divine Mercy article separate. But here is the link to the Chaplet that I spoke of

http://thedivinemercy.org/message/devotions/praythechaplet.php

The Mercy of God to the Penitent

From a letter by Saint Maximus the Confessor, abbot

Christ forgives sinner

God’s will is to save us, and nothing pleases him more than our coming back to him with true repentance.  The heralds of truth and the ministers of divine grace have told us this form the beginning, repeating it in every age. Indeed, God’s desire for our salvation is the primary and preeminent sign of his infinite goodness.  It was precisely in order to show that there is nothing closer to God’s heart that the divine Word of God the Father, with untold condescension lived among us in the flesh, and did, suffered, and said all that was necessary to reconcile us to God the Father, when we were at enmity with him, and to restore us to the life of blessedness from which we had been exiled.  He healed our physical infirmities by miracles; he freed us from our sins, many and grievous as they were, by suffering and dying, taking them upon himself as if he were answerable for them, sinless though he was.  He also taught using many different ways that we should wish to imitate him by our own kindness and genuine love for one another.

So is was that Christ proclaimed that he had come to call sinners to repentance, not the righteous, and that it was not the healthy who required a doctor, but he sick.  He declared that he had come to loof for the sheep that was lost, and that is was to the lost sheep of the house of Israel that he had been sent.  Speaking more obscurely in the parable of the silver coin, he tells us that the purpose of his coming was to reclaim the royal image, which had been coated with the filth of sin.  You can be sure there is joy in heaven, he said, over one sinner who repents.

To give the same lesson he revived the man who, having fallen into the hands of the brigands, had been left stripped and half-dead from his wound; he poured wine and oil on the wounds, bandaged them, placed the many on his own mule and brought him to an inn, where he left sufficient money to have him cared for, and promised to repay any further expense on his return.

Again, he told of how the Father, who is goodness itself, was moved with pity for his profligate son who returned and made amends by repentance; how he embraced him, dressed him once more in the fine garments that befitted his own dignity, and did not reproach him for any of his sins.

So too, when he found wandering in the mountains and hills the one sheep that had strayed from God’s flock of a hundred, he brought it back to the fold, but he did not exhaust it by driving it ahead of him.  Instead, he placed it on his own shoulders and so, compassionately, he restored it safely to the flock.

So also he cried out: Come to me, all you that toil and are heavy of heat.  Accept my yoke, he said, by which he meant his commands, or rather, the whole way of life that he taught us in the Gospel.  He then speaks of a burden, but that is only because repentance seems difficult.  In fact, however, my yoke is easy, he assures us, and my burden is light.

Then again he instructs us in divine justice and goodness, telling us to be like our heavenly Father, hold, perfect and merciful.  

Forgive, he says, and you will be forgiven.  

Behave toward other people 

as you would wish them 

to behave toward you.

taken from the Liturgy of the Hours Wednesday, 3rd Week of Lent

Letter from Hell

I read this letter on the 

America Needs Fatima webpage. (link below)

It's a letter written from the depths of hell to a friend 

who had tried without success to help the soul 

who refused the

Mercies of God in life. 

I pray that you will read it, not skim through it.  

Truly read it,

and remember what it says. 

Pray for those you love, 

your family and friends, 

and ALL sinners.  

That they will be converted 

and not receive this

same fate.

Divine Mercy

Eternal Father, 

I offer you 

the Body and Blood,

Soul and Divinity 

of Our Lord Jesus Christ,

in atonement for our sins

and those of the whole world!

For the sake of His Sorrowful Passion,

have Mercy on us 

and on the whole world!

Introduction to the Letter from Beyond:

Souls in Damnation

This letter recounts the tragic story of the eternal damnation of a young woman named Ani. Both the narrative and the letter transcribed below were found among the papers of a deceased nun, who in the world was known as Claire and worked with the condemned woman. This letter was revealed to Claire in a dream shortly after Ani was killed in a car accident.

The narrative received an Imprimatur from the diocese of Treves, Germany in 1953, authorizing its publication as highly instructive. While an Imprimatur is not an affirmation of authenticity, it guarantees that the text is free from doctrinal error. The letter first appeared in a book of revelations and prophecies. Fr. Bernhardin Krempel, Doctor of Theology, published it separately and lent it more authority with his footnotes showing the letter’s absolute concordance with Catholic Doctrine.

I had a friend. That is, we shared a mutual closeness as friends and neighbors while we worked in the same office.

Later, when Ani got married, I never saw her again. From the moment we met, we had between us more amiability than real friendship. So when she moved to the elegant neighborhood of villas far from my home after her marriage, I didn’t miss her very much.

In mid-September of 1937, while I was vacationing at Lake Garda, my mother wrote to me: “Imagine, Ani N. died. She lost her life in an automobile accident. She was buried yesterday in the cemetery of Woodstock.”

The news shocked me. I knew that Ani had never been truly religious. Was she prepared when God suddenly called her? The next morning I attended Holy Mass, which was said for her, in the chapel of the nun’s boarding house where I stayed. I prayed fervently for her eternal repose and also offered my Holy Communion for that intention.

I felt increasingly ill at ease throughout the day, and that night I slept restlessly. I awoke suddenly, hearing something like the door of my room being shaken. As I turned the light on, the clock on my nightstand showed ten minutes after midnight. I could see nothing. The house was silent. The waves of Lake Garda could be heard breaking monotonously on the wall of the boarding house garden. I did not hear the wind at all.

Still, on waking, I had had the impression of having heard something else besides the door shaking. It was a sound similar to when my former boss ill-naturedly tossed a letter on my desk–swish, thump…

awake

I considered for a moment whether or not I should get up. Ah! It was nothing but a figment of my imagination brought on by the news of her death, I assured myself. Rolling over, I prayed a few Our Fathers for the souls in Purgatory, and again fell asleep.

I then dreamed that I rose at six o’clock to go to the chapel. On opening the door to my room, I stepped on a parcel containing the pages of a letter. 

Picking it up and recognizing Ani’s handwriting, I screamed.

Trembling as I held the pages in my hands, I was, I must confess, so shaken that I could not even utter an Our Father. I was almost suffocating. There was nothing better to do than flee that spot and go into the open air. I hastily arranged my hair, put the letter in my purse, and rushed from the house.

Claire's letter

Outside, I followed a winding path up through the hills, passing olive and laurel trees and the neighboring farms, and going beyond the renowned “Gardesana” highway.

The morning broke radiantly. On other days, I would stop every hundred paces, enchanted by the magnificent view of the lake and Garda Island. The soft blue of the water refreshed me and, like a child admiringly gazing at her grandfather, I would gaze upon ashen-colored Mount Baldo rising 7200 feet above the opposite shore of the lake. That day, however, I did not have eyes for any of that. After walking a quarter of an hour, I mechanically let myself sink to the bank and leaned against two cypress trees where the day before I had taken such pleasure in reading “The Damsel Teresa.” For the first time I regarded the cypress trees as symbols of death, something I had taken no notice of in the south, where these trees are common.

I took up the letter. It lacked a signature, but it was, beyond a doubt, in Ani’s handwriting. There was no mistaking the large S nor the French T that used to irritate Mr. G. at the office.

The style was not hers, at least not her usual style of speaking. She conversed and laughed so amiably, with her blue eyes and her graceful nose. Only when we discussed religious topics did she become sarcastic and fall into a rude tone like that in the letter, whose agitated cadence I now entered.

Here, word for word, is the “Letter from Beyond” of Ani V. as I read it in the dream.

Reading the Letter --

Claire!

Do not pray for me. I am damned. 

Soul in Hell

    

As I tell you this and relate to you certain circumstances and details about my condemnation, do not think that I do so out of friendship. Here we no longer love anyone. I do it as “a part of that power that always desires evil but always produces good.”

     

In truth, I would like to see you here where I will remain forever.1

     

Do not be surprised at my intent. Here we all think the same way. Our will is petrified in evil—in what you call “evil.” Even when we do something “good,” as I do now in opening your eyes about Hell, we don’t do it with good intentions.2

     

Remember that we knew each other for four years in M. You were 23 and had already worked in the office for six months when I arrived. You kept me out of trouble many times, and frequently gave me good advice while I worked as your trainee. But, what is that which is referred to as “good”? At the time I praised your “charity.” Ridiculous! Your help arose from pure vainglory, as I had already suspected.

     

Here we don’t acknowledge good in anyone!

     

You knew me in my youth, but I will fill in certain details.

     

According to my parents’ plans, I should never have existed. In their carelessness, I was conceived in disgrace. When I came into the light, my two sisters were already 14 and 15 years of age.

     

I wish that I had never been born! I wish I could annihilate myself at this moment and escape these torments! There could be no pleasure comparable to being able to end my existence, like a piece of clothing reduced to ashes.3 But I must exist; I must be as I have made myself, with the entire blame of my end upon my own shoulders.

     

When my parents, still unmarried, moved from the countryside to the city, they drifted away from the Church, and they kept company with people who had fallen away from religion. Having met each other at a dance, they were “obliged” to get married six months later. During the wedding ceremony a few drops of holy water fell upon them, just sufficient to draw my mother to Sunday Mass a few times a year. She never taught me to pray correctly. She wore herself out in daily concerns, even when our situation was not difficult.

Catholic Church

It is only with deep repugnance and unspeakable disgust that I write words such as pray, Mass, holy water, and church. I profoundly detest those who go to church, as well as everyone and everything in general.

     

For us, everything is a torment. Everything we come to understand at death, every recollection of life and of what we know, becomes a burning flame.4

     

And all of these memories serve to show us the horrible aspect of the graces we rejected. How this torments us! We do not eat, we do not sleep, nor do we walk with our legs. Being spiritually enchained, we reprobates gaze in terror at our misspent lives, howling and gnashing our teeth, tormented and filled with hatred.

     Are you listening? 

Here we drink hatred as if it were water. 

We all hate one another.5

More than anything else, we hate God. 

I will try to make you understand how this is.

     

Stairway to Heaven

The blessed in Heaven must necessarily love God, for they constantly behold Him in His awe-inspiring beauty. That makes them ineffably happy. We know this, and the knowledge infuriates us.6

On earth, men know God through Creation and Revelation and are able to love Him, but they are not forced to do so.

     

The believer—I say this seething—who contemplates and meditates upon Christ stretched upon the Cross will love Him.

But the soul whom God approaches and surrounds, and rejects as Avenger and Judge, that soul hates God as we hate Him.7 This soul hates Him with all the strength of its perverse will. It hates Him eternally, in virtue of the deliberate resolution to reject God in which it ended its earthly life. This perverse act of the will can never be rescinded, nor would we ever want to do so.

Do you now understand why 

Hell must be eternal?

It is because our obstinacy 

never diminishes and never ends.

Being compelled to do so, I add that God is still merciful towards you. I say “compelled” because even though I write this letter, I cannot lie as I would like to do. I put on the paper much that goes against my will. I also have to choke down the torrent of insults I would like to spew forth.

God showed mercy towards us in that He did not allow us to do all the evil we wanted to do while on earth. Had He permitted us to do so, we would have greatly added to our guilt and chastisement. He allowed us to die prematurely—as is my case—or permitted attenuating circumstances.

     

Even now He is merciful towards us, for He does not oblige us to draw near to Him. He allows us to remain in this distant place of Hell, thus diminishing our torment.8 Every step closer to God would torment me more than every step you might take toward a fire.

You were astonished one day when I told you in passing what my father had told me some days prior to my First Communion: “Take care, little Ani, that you get a beautiful dress; the rest is nothing but a sham.” I was almost ashamed for having shocked you so, but now I laugh about it. The best part of this sham was that Communion was only allowed at twelve years of age. By then, I had already amply sampled the world’s pleasures and had easily left everything religious aside, so I didn’t take Communion seriously.

The new custom of allowing children to receive Holy Communion at seven years of age infuriates us. We strive in every possible way to frustrate this, making people believe that in order to receive Communion there must be comprehension, that it is necessary for children to have committed mortal sins before receiving. The “white God” [that is, the Sacred Host] will then be less prejudicial than if He were received with faith, hope, and love, the fruits of Baptism—I spit upon all this!—which are still alive in a child’s heart. Do you recall that I already had this same point of view on earth?

I return now to my father. He fought a lot with my mother. I rarely told you this because I was ashamed of it. Ah! What is shame? Something ridiculous! We are indifferent to everything. My parents no longer slept in the same room. I slept in my mother’s room, and my father slept in the adjoining room, to which he would retire at any hour of the night. He drank heavily and exhausted all our wealth. My sisters were employed and needed the money they made, so Mother began to work. In the last year of her bitter life, Father often beat her when she refused to give him money.

He was always very kind to me. I told you about this one day and you were scandalized with my capriciousness—but what was there about me that didn’t scandalize you?—such as when I twice returned new pairs of shoes one day because the style of the heel wasn’t modern enough for me.

On the night in which a mortal stroke took my father, something happened that I never told you, because I feared a disagreeable interpretation on your part. Today, however, you ought to know it. The fact is memorable, for it is the first time that my true spirit, like that of a cruel executioner, revealed itself.

In bed I was asleep in my mother’s bedroom. She was sleeping deeply, as her regular breathing indicated. Suddenly, I heard someone utter my name. An unfamiliar voice murmured, “What would happen if your father were to die?”

I no longer loved my father, since he had begun to mistreat my mother. Properly speaking, I no longer loved anyone; I only clung to certain people who were still kind to me. Love without a natural motive scarcely exists except in souls that live in the state of grace, which I did not.

I responded to that mysterious questioner, “Surely he is not dying.”

After a brief interval, I heard the same well-understood question, without troubling myself as to where it came from.

“Whatever! He’s not dying,” was the sullen reply that escaped me.

For the third time I was questioned: “What would happen were your father to die?”

In a flash it passed through my mind how Father often came home somewhat drunk, scolding and fighting with Mother, and how often he embarrassed us in front of our neighbors and acquaintances!

I then cried out stubbornly: “All right, then, it’s what he deserves. Let him die!”

Afterwards, everything became still.

     

lord-byron-on-his-deathbed-c-1826

The following morning, when mother went upstairs to tidy up Father’s room, she found the door locked. Around noon they forced it open. Father was lying half-dressed on his bed—dead, a corpse. He probably caught a cold while looking for a beer in the cellar. He had been sick for a long time.

[Could it be that God had depended upon the will of a child, to whom this man had shown some goodness, to grant him more time and an opportunity to convert?]

You and Marta made me enroll in the association of young ladies. I never told you that I found the instructions of the two directors to be quite conniving. I found the games amusing enough. As you know, I quickly came to hold a preponderant role in them, which flattered me. I also found the outings pleasant, sometimes even allowing myself to be taken to Confession and receive Holy Communion. I really had nothing to confess, for I never took account of my thoughts and sentiments. I was still not ready for worse things.

One day you admonished me: “Ani, you will be lost if you don’t pray more.” In truth I prayed very little, and always reluctantly and with annoyance.

You were undoubtedly right. All those who burn in Hell either did not pray, or did not pray enough. Prayer is the first step toward God. 

It is always decisive, especially prayer to her who is the Mother of God, whose name we are not permitted to say. Devotion to her draws innumerable souls away from the devil, souls whose sins would otherwise have cast them into his hands.

I continue, furious at being obliged to do so…

Praying is the easiest thing on earth, and justly so, for God linked salvation to this simplest of actions.

To those who pray assiduously, God grants, bit by bit, so much light and strength that even a drowning sinner is able to raise himself up definitively through prayer, even though he be immersed in mud up to his chest.

In fact, in my last years of life I no longer prayed, and thus deprived myself of the graces without which no one can be saved.

     

Here we no longer receive any grace at all. Even if we did receive a grace, we would reject it with disdain. All the vacillations of earthly life end in the beyond.

     

In earthly life, man can pass from a state of sin to a state of grace. From grace he can fall into sin. I often fell out of weakness, rarely out of malice. With death, this inconstant “yes” and “no,” this rising and falling, comes to an end. Through death, every individual enters into his final state, fixed and unalterable.

     

As one advances in age, these rises and falls become smaller. True, until one dies one can either convert or turn one’s back upon God. In death, however, one decides mechanically, with the last tremors of his will, in the same way he did throughout his life.

   

A good or bad habit becomes second nature, and this is what moves a person one way or another in his final moments. So it was with me. For years I had lived apart from God. Consequently, when I received that final call of grace, I decided against Him. It was fatal not because I had sinned so many times, but rather because I had so often refused to repent and amend my life.

  

You repeatedly admonished me to hear sermons and to read pious books, but I regularly excused myself, citing a lack of time. Could I have done anything more to increase my inner uncertainty?

     

By the time I reached this critical point, shortly before I left the association of young ladies, it would have been difficult for me to follow any other path. I felt unhappy and insecure. I had erected a huge wall against my conversion, which you must not have perceived. You must have thought my conversion easy when once you said to me: “Ani, make a good confession and everything will be all right.”

     

I suspected that what you said was true, but the world, the flesh, and the devil already had me securely in their clutches, such as I was then. I never believed in the action of the devil, but now I attest that the devil powerfully influences people such as I was then.9  Only many prayers on the part of others and my own prayers, together with sacrifices and sufferings, would have managed to wrench me away from him. And this only slowly.

     

There are very few people who are physically possessed, but many who are possessed interiorly. The devil cannot suppress the free will of those who give themselves over to his influence, yet, as a chastisement for the person’s almost total apostasy, God permits the person to be dominated by “evil.”

     

Although I hate the devil, I like him because he and his helpers, the angels that fell with him at the beginning of time, strive to cause the loss of the people on earth. There are myriad demons. Uncountable numbers of them wander through the world, like a swarm of flies, without their presence even being suspected.

     

It does not fall to us who have been condemned to tempt you; this is left to the fallen spirits.10 Our torments increase every time they bring another soul to Hell, but hatred is capable of anything!11

     

Even though I trod tortuous byways, God sought me out. I prepared the way for grace by means of works of natural charity I often did by the natural inclination of my character. At times, too, God beckoned me to a church. When, despite work at the office during the day, I took care of my sick mother, no small sacrifice for me, I strongly felt these attractions of God.

     

Once, in the hospital chapel where you used to take me during our free time at mid-day, I was so moved that I found myself but one step away from conversion. And I cried.

    

The pleasures of the world, however, flowed over this grace like a torrent.

 The thorns choked out the wheat. 

Rationalizing that religion is sentimentalism, according to the manner it was discussed in the office, I cast this grace to the ground, like so many others.

     

Once you reprimanded me because in church, rather than genuflecting, I made only a hasty nod of my head. You thought it was laziness, not suspecting that I already no longer believed in the presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. I now believe it, though only naturally, in the manner that one believes in a storm, the signs and effects of which one perceives.

     

In the interim, I had arranged a religion for myself. The general opinion in the office, that after death souls would return to this world in other beings and would pass through yet other beings in an endless succession, pleased me. With this, I banished the distressing problem of the hereafter to the point that it no longer troubled me.

     

Why did you not remind me of the parable of the rich man and poor Lazarus, in which the narrator, Christ, immediately after their deaths, sent one to Hell and the other to Paradise? But, what would this reminder have accomplished? Nothing more than your pious advice.

     

Bit by bit I found a god, one privileged enough to be called a god, and distant enough that I didn’t have to deal with him. I was even confused enough to make of myself, at will and without changing my religion, a pantheistic god or even a proud deity.

     

This “god” had neither a heaven to console me nor a hell to frighten me. I left him in peace. This is what my adoration of him consisted of.

     

One easily believes in what one loves. With the passing of years, I became sufficiently convinced of my religion. I lived well with it, without its causing me any inconvenience.

     

Only one thing would have been able to bring me to my senses: a profound and prolonged suffering. But this suffering never came. Do you now understand that “Whom God loves, God chastises”?

     

The association of young ladies organized an outing one July day. Yes, I liked those outings, but not the sweetly pious women who went on them.

Recently, an image far different from that one of Our Lady of Graces had been placed upon the altar of my heart. Beside that of Our Lady there stood the gentlemanly figure of Max N., who worked in the warehouse. A short time prior to this we had conversed several times. On this occasion, he asked me out on the very Sunday of the ladies’ outing. Another woman whom he had been dating was in the hospital.

     

He noticed, of course, that I had my eyes on him, but I had never thought of marrying him. He was well-to-do, but too friendly toward any and every young lady. Up to that time I had wanted a man who belonged to me alone, and I alone to him. Thus, I had always kept a certain distance.

[This is true. There was something noble about Ani, notwithstanding all her religious indifference. It astonishes me that “honest” people are also capable of falling into Hell if they are dishonest enough to flee from encountering God.]

    

Max heaped every kindness upon me on the day of that outing. Our conversation, of course, was certainly not that of your pious women.

     

On the following day in the office, you reprimanded me for not having gone with you. I then told you of my Su Your first question was: “Did you go to Mass?” Crazy! How could I have gone to Mass when we had agreed to leave at six in the morning? Do you still remember that I added excitedly, “The good God is not so mean as your little priests!” Now it falls to me to confess to you that, His infinite goodness notwithstanding, God takes everything much more seriously than any priest.

     

After this first outing with Max, I attended just one more meeting of the young ladies’ association. Certain things attracted me at Christmastime, but I had already dissociated myself from you interiorly.

     

Movies, dances, and outings followed. At times Max and I argued, but I knew how to keep him interested in me.

     

My rival, upon being released from the hospital, was furious, and I found her very disagreeable. Her anger worked in my favor, though, for my discreet calm made a great impression upon Max and, ultimately, led him to choose me over her.

     

I knew just how to denigrate her. I would speak calmly, seeming to be entirely objective, but spewing venom from within. Sentiments and insinuations such as these rapidly lead one to Hell. They are diabolical, in the true sense of the word.

     

Why am I telling you this? To show you how I came to separate myself entirely from God.

     

To be so distant from God, it was not necessary to be entirely familiar with Max. I knew that if I lowered myself to that before the time, he would look down on me, so I restrained myself and refused. In truth, I was ready to do anything I thought useful. Determined to win Max, I would stop at nothing.

     

Little by little we fell in love, for both of us possessed estimable qualities that we could mutually appreciate. I was talented and made of myself an able conversationalist, and so I eventually had Max in my hands, assured that I alone possessed him, at least in those last months before our wedding.

     

This is what constituted my apostasy from God: I made a mere creature into my god. In no other way is this more fully realized than in the relationship between two creatures of the opposite sex; love is stifled in matter. This becomes the allure, the sting, and the venom of the object that is loved.  The "adoration" I rendered Max became an ardent religion.

     

At this stage of my life I would hypocritically run off to church during the office lunch hour, to the good-for-nothing priests, the mumbling of the Rosary, and other foolishness.

     

You strove to encourage this, with some intelligence but apparently without suspecting that, in final analysis, I no longer had anything to do with these things. I sought only to set my conscience at ease—I still needed that—in order to justify my apostasy.

In the depth of my soul I lived in revolt against God. You did not perceive that. You always thought I was still Catholic. I wanted to be seen as such, even going so far as giving a donation to the church, thinking that a little bit of “insurance” couldn’t hurt.

     

As certain as you were about your answers, they always went in one ear and out the other. I was sure that you could not be right. Taking into consideration our strained relationship, when my marriage put some distance between us, the pain of our separation was slight.

I went to Confession and Holy Communion one more time before my wedding, but it was a mere formality. My husband felt the same way. But why not? We fulfilled those formalities just like any others.

You would call that “unworthy.” But after that unworthy Communion I had greater peace of mind. It was the last of my life.

     

Our married life was generally harmonious. We had the same opinion on just about everything. That included our shared opinion regarding children: We didn’t want the burden. Deep down, my husband wanted one, naturally, but no more. Ultimately, I was able to banish the idea. I preferred fine clothing and furniture, tea with the ladies, rides in our car, and like amusements.

There passed a year of earthly pleasure from our wedding day until my sudden death.

Every Sunday we went for a drive or visited my husband’s relatives—I was ashamed of mine. My husband’s relatives, like us, swam well on the surface of life.

Inside, however, I never felt truly happy. Something always gnawed at my soul. I hoped that death, certainly far in the future, would end everything.

When still a child, I once heard in a sermon that God rewards the good one does. If He cannot do this in the next life, He will do it on earth. Thus, without my expecting it, I received an inheritance from my Aunt, and my husband had the good fortune of seeing his salary raised considerably. With this, we were able to decorate our new house very well.

My religion was in its last agony, like daylight’s last glimmer in the distant sky. The clubs and cafes of the city and the restaurants where we ate when traveling did not draw us any closer to God. Everyone who frequented them lived as we did, concerned about externals, not essences or things of the soul.

While on vacation we visited a famous cathedral, seeking only to savor the artistic value of the masterpieces it contained. I counteracted the religious air it radiated, chiefly that of the Middle Ages, seizing every opportunity for ridicule. Thus, I criticized a lay brother who served as our guide for being a bit unkempt and awkward; I criticized the trade of the pious monks who made and sold liqueur; I disparaged the eternal pealing of the bells calling people to churches that care only for money. I was thereby able to reject every grace that came knocking at my door.

In particular, I let my ill humor flow profusely over every old depiction of Hell in books, cemeteries, and elsewhere, showing devils roasting souls in red or yellow fire while their long-tailed associates continually bring more victims.

Claire, while Hell might be poorly drawn, it can never be exaggerated.

Above all, I always scoffed at the fire of Hell. Do you recall our conversation on the fire of Hell when I jokingly put a lit match under your nose and asked, “Does it smell like this?”

You quickly blew out the match, but here the fire is never extinguished. Moreover, the fire of which the Bible speaks is not the torment of conscience. Fire means fire. One must understand Our Lord’s declaration in its literal sense: “Depart from Me, ye accursed, into everlasting fire.” 

One might ask how it is that the spirit can be affected by material fire.

How then, on earth, does the soul suffer when one’s finger is held in a fire? The soul itself does not burn, but what pain the whole person endures!

In like manner, here we are imprisoned by the fire in our beings and faculties. Our souls are deprived of their natural movements; we can neither think nor want what we want.12

Do not try to comprehend the mystery that, contrary to the laws of material nature, the fire of Hell burns without consuming.

Our greatest torment consists in knowing with certainty that we will never see God.

Oh, everything which we purposely ignored on earth tortures us here!—When the knife but lies on the table, it gives one only a cold feeling. One can see its keen edge, but not feel it. But the moment it enters one’s flesh, he screams with pain.

     Before, we only saw the loss of God; now we feel it.13

All souls do not suffer equally. The more frivolous, malicious, and determined someone was in sin, the more the loss of God weighs upon him, and the more torture he feels due to the creation he has abused.

Catholics who are damned suffer more than those of other beliefs because, in general, they received more lights and graces without taking advantage of them.

He who knows more suffers more than those who had lesser knowledge.

He who sinned out of malice suffers more than those who fell from weakness.

No one, however, suffers more than he deserves. Would that this were not true, so that I might have some reason to hate!

You once told me that no one falls into Hell without knowing that that is his destination, as was revealed to a saint. Though I laughed at that, I yet entrenched myself behind the thought that there was still time for me to convert—that is how I thought in my heart.

What you said is true. Certainly, before my sudden end, I did not know Hell as it truly is. No human being does. But of this I had no doubt: were I to die, I would enter into eternity in a state of revolt against God, and I would suffer the consequences.

As I already declared, I didn’t turn back but persevered along the same path, impelled by habit, whereby people act with greater deliberation and regularity as they grow older.

    

My death occurred in the following way:

Car Accident A week ago—I speak to you in terms of the way in which you measure time; judging by the pain I have endured, I should already have been burning in Hell for ten years—on a Sunday, my husband and I went for a drive, my last one.

The day broke radiantly. I felt well, as I rarely did, but a sinister feeling came over me.

On our way home my husband and I were unexpectedly blinded by the lights of a car rapidly approaching from the opposite direction. My husband lost control of our car.

“Jesus!” I shouted, not as a prayer, but as a scream. I felt a crushing pain—a trifle in comparison with my present pain. I then lost consciousness.

Strange! On that very morning, the idea that I could, after all, go to Mass again came to me unexpectedly. It sounded to me like a supplication. Clear and determined, my “No!” nipped the thought in the bud. I must finish with this once and for all, and 

I assumed all the consequences.

     And now I endure them.

You know what happened after my death. The fate of my husband, my mother, of my body and burial, all of this you know down to the last details, as do I through a natural intuition we have here. We have only a confused knowledge of what transpires in the world, but we know what closely concerned us.

At the moment of my death I awoke from darkness. I found myself suddenly enveloped by a blinding light. It was at the same place where my body lay. It seemed almost like a theater, where the lights suddenly go out, the curtain noisily opens, and a tragically illuminated scene appears: the scene of my life.

Christ's Judgement

I saw my soul as if in a mirror. I saw the graces I had trampled underfoot from the time I was young until that final “No!” to God. I felt like an assassin brought to trial with my inanimate victim before me.—Repent? Never!14  Was I ashamed of myself? Not at all!

Notwithstanding, it was impossible for me to remain in the presence of the God I had denied and rejected. Only one thing remained for me: the fire.

Thus, as Cain fled from the body of Abel, so did my soul flee far away from this overwhelming sight.

That was my private judgment.

The invisible Judge spoke: “Depart from Me!” and my soul swiftly fell, like a sulfurous shadow, into the place of eternal torment!15

Closing information from Claire:

Thus ended the letter from Ani about Hell. The last words were so twisted as to be almost illegible. When I finished reading the last word, the entire letter turned to ashes. 

What is that I hear? Amidst the harsh tones of the lines I imagined reading there resounded the sweet sound of a bell. I awoke suddenly to find myself still in bed in my room. The morning light of daybreak found its way in. From the parish church came the sound of the bells ringing the Angelus.

Had it all been but a dream?

I had never felt such consolation in the Angelic Salutation as I did after this dream. Pausing, I prayed three Ave Marias. It then became clear, most clear to me: 

One must always cling to Our Lord’s blessed Mother, venerate Mary as her own child, if one does not want to suffer the same fate told you—albeit in a dream—by a soul that will never see God.

Still frightened and shaking due to that night-time revelation, I got up, dressed myself hastily, and rushed to the chapel of the house.

My heart beat violently. The guests kneeling closest to me looked at me with concern. Perhaps they thought that I was so excited and flushed because I had run down the stairway.

That afternoon in the garden I encountered a kindly, nearsighted lady from Budapest, frail as a child, suffering greatly, yet of lofty spirit and fervent in the service of God. She said to me, “Miss, Our Lord does not want to be served in haste.” But she then perceived that something else had upset and preoccupied me. She added kindly: “Let nothing distress you—you know the advice of Saint Teresa—let nothing alarm you. Everything passes. He who possesses God lacks nothing. God alone suffices.”

While she humbly whispered these words to me she seemed to be reading my soul.

“God alone suffices.” Yes, He has to be enough for me, in this life and in the next. I want to possess Him there one day, as numerous as may be the sacrifices I have to make here in order to triumph. I do not want to fall into Hell.

Pray for Sinners!!!!

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Notes:

1. Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Supplement (New York: Benziger Brothers, Inc., 1948), Q. 98, art. 4—”Therefore, they [the damned] will wish all the good were damned.” [back to text]

2. Ibid., art. 1—The determined will“is in them always evil; and this because they are completely turned away from the last end of a right will…. Hence even though they will some good,they do not will it well so that one e able to call their will good on that account.”[back to text]

3. Ibid., art. 3, ad. 3—”Although not to be is very evil in so far as it removes being, it is very good in so far as it removes unhappiness, which is the greatest if evils, and thus it is preferred not to be.”[back to text]

4.Ibid., art. 7—”In the damned there will be actual consideration of the things they knew heretofore as matters of sorrow, but not as a cause of pleasure. For they will consider both the evil they have done, and for which they were damned, and the delightful goods they have lost, and on both counts they will suffertorments.”[back to text]

5. Ibid., art. 4—”Even as in the blessed in heaven there will be most perfect charity, so in the damned there will be the most perfect hate.”[back to text]

6. Ibid., art. 9—”The damned, before the judgment day, will see the blessed in glory, in such a way as to know, not what that glory is like, but only that they are in a state of glory that surpasses all thought.”[back to text]

7. Ibid., art. 8—”The damned do not hate God except because He punishes and forbids what is agreeable to their evil will: and consequently they will think of Him only as punishing and forbidding.”[back to text]

8. Summa, I, Q. 21, art. 4, ad. 1—”Even in the damnation of the reprobate mercy is seen, which, though it does not totally remit, yet somewhat alleviates, in punishing short of what is deserved.”[back to text]

9. “Be sober and watch, because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, goes about seeking whom he may devour”(I Peter 5:8).“Put you on the armor of God, that you may be able to stand againstthe deceits of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places” (Ephes. 6:11-12).[back to text]

10. Summa, Suppl., Q. 98, art. 6, ad. 2— “Men who are damned are not occupied in drawing other to damnation, as the demons are.”[back to text]

11. Ibid., art. 4, ad. 3—”Although an increase in the number of the damned results in an increase of each one’s punishment, so much the more will their hatred and envy increase that they will prefer to be more tormented with many rather than less tormented alone.”[back to text]

12. Summa, Suppl., Q.70, art. 3—”The fire of its nature is able to have an incorporeal spirit united to it as a thing placed is united to a place; that as the instrument of Divine justice it is enabled to detain it enchained as it were, and in this respect this fire is really hurtful to the spirit, and thus the soul seeing the fire as something hurtful to it is tormented by the fire.”[back to text]

13.“The separation from God is a torment as great as God.” Phrase attributed to Saint Augustine.[back to text]

14.Q. 98, art. 2—”The wicked will not repent of their sins directly [that is, out of hatred of sin], because consent in the malice of sin will remain in them; but they will repent indirectly [that is, because of the consequent suffering].[back to text]

15. That the punishment of Hell is eternal is a dogma, certainly the most terrible of all, rooted in Sacred Scripture. “Then he shall say to them also that shall be on his left hand: Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matt. 25:41). See also Judith 16:21; Matt. 25:46; II Thess. 1:9; Jude 1:13; Apoc. 14:11 and 20:10; and others. That the word eternal is not to be understood or interpreted as long is clear by such expressions as “unquenchable fire” (Matt. 3:12; Mark 9:43) and “…the fire is not extinguished” (Mark 9:45). If illustration of this dogma were not appropriate, then Our Lord would not have told the parable of poor Lazarus and the rich man. [back to text]

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