Is Hell Voluntary?
There are some who say that the gates of Hell are locked from the inside, not from the outside, because those who suffer in the pit of Hell are the ones who flung themselves there of their own free will to begin with.
If you ask me, I will answer like an elf, and say both yes and no. It is true in one sense and not in another that Hell is voluntary.
The problem with all such discussions is that we beings who live in time are trying to picture what existence in eternity might be like.
In the physical world, the difference between a voluntary act, like entering a boxing ring and getting struck in the face by a prizefighter, and a punishment, like offending a lady and being struck in the face by a gentleman, is fairly clear.
But in the spiritual order, when a man gives in to an almost irresistible temptation, it is harder to untangle what is voluntary on his part and what is involuntary.
Likewise, when we are speaking of Earthly judges and magistrates, we know when punishments are being inflicted by the deliberate will of the punisher.
We make a distinction between punishments inflicted by an authority, and the natural consequences of actions, which one brings on oneself.
In the physical world, for example, if a man indulges in strong drink and he habituates himself to alcohol and so becomes a drunk, or if a nation seeks and easy money policy and inflates the currency as a result, if we are speaking literally, we usually would speak of the inevitable bad effects flowing from these unwise decisions as “consequences” not “punishments” in the sense that nature, not a magistrate, inflicts the bad results on the transgressor.
In that sense, gravity is not literally “punishing” a man who flings himself from a brink, but nature does carry out the consequences of his act once he has lost the power to change his mind.
Now, clearly, in some sense of the word, what a magistrate does in a consequence, and gravity is punishing the suicidal stupidity of a jumper, but in both cases, this is metaphorical speech, not literally. We are metaphorically taking the magistrate to be a force of nature, or gravity to be a magistrate.
Such is the distinction that holds in the physical order. But in the spiritual order, if God Almighty so establishes the laws of morality and the laws of nature such that the consequence of rejecting God is exile into the outer darkness where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth, no such distinction is possible.
It is both true that He will it (as he wills all things) AND that it is the logical and inevitable consequence of the action. A man who prays to Jesus for salvation will be saved, even from Hell, but he will never utter that prayer, since the grace one needs to feel the impulse to pray has long been lost, or else one would not be in Hell in the first place.
It is a sad truth that sin darkens the intellect and corrupts the will, so that long or deep indulgence in sin will rob a man of any ability, without divine aid, to free himself of the chains he locks on himself. He loses the ability to imagine any other options.
This is why it is said that the darkness cannot comprehend the light. Selfish people cannot even imagine an unselfish act: when they see one before them, selfish people merely ascribe a hidden selfish motive, and regard the appearance of unselfishness as a calculates hypocrisy or play-acting.
While on Earth, however, even the most unrepentant sinner has the opportunity to repent, since the grace of heaven will implant in his soul the willingness to change his ways if he humbles himself, show contrition, does his penance, and asks for that grace. In hell, that option is closed. Those there blaspheme the Holy Spirit, and do not feel the impulse to pray: pride prevents it. Without God, what can prevent pride from growing as large as the Fenrir wolf, whose jaws encompass heaven and earth?
It sounds odd indeed to speak of men who enslave themselves to sin, because it sounds as if a man can voluntarily make himself into an involuntary creature: he freely can surrender his free will and lose it.
But it is no more nor less a paradox than the questions raised about what the Omnipotent cannot do. In the material order, we make a sharp distinction (those who follow grammar rules) between “can” and “may” — asking if you “can” take a cookie is asking a question of fact as to whether or not you have the present ability to carry out the act. Asking if you may is asking permission. In the spiritual order, that distinction does not apply: God cannot do anything that is ungodlike. Asking if He cannot because he may not is meaningless.
God can limit the operation of his omnipotent power out of love, for He does this all the time, whenever He gives man the freedom to accept or reject heavenly love. But it is pointless to ask whether He can remove that free will, since He will not.
Likewise, there is no point in asking whether the damned angels can repent and sue for forgiveness. They will not.
In any theological speculation surrounding these deep matters, please consider that we are as children in the womb wondering about the outside world. We are like Mr A Sqaure of Flatland contemplating the cube and the hypercube.
It is better to regard all such discussions of conditions in eternity as being somewhat or entirely metaphorical, a parable that helps us picture in our imagination a condition that is literally unimaginable.
This is why the faith of a child is needed to enter the Kingdom of Heaven: children are not confounded by doubts about terminology, or nuances in a theological debate. A child’s image of God as a stern patriarch with a beard is no less accurate than the philosopher’s image of God as the Prime Mover and Necessary Supreme Being.
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
March 15, 2019 @ 11:58 am
