"I just haven't been punished enough!"

For the benefit of those who may be reading this entry without any previous exposure to my blog, I'd best establish that the title of this post in no way refers to myself! It came from a biography which I read of the Servant of God Fulton John Sheen. At 83, following times of physical illness and some painful outcomes to decisions he made as archbishop of Rochester NY, he would say, "I have had a great deal of suffering... but I never received the punishment I deserved. God has been easy with me. He has never laid on my burdens equal to my faith."

This hardly is original with our heavenly friend Fulton, of course. Overall, the idea of divine punishments (though I'll get to Augustine in a moment) is not integral to theology or worship, but it was all too embedded in devotion. As one who studied the Middle Ages in some depth, I noticed that, though Christians in general were not likely to consider themselves headed for hell (which, other than fallen angels, seemed to have a population consisting mainly of heretics, sorcerers, and infidels), the spectacle of a purgatory (on the lines of Dante's Inferno - again, not doctrine, but popular) turned God into a most devious jailer. Doctrinally, purgatory means only some purification after one dies - and I don't see this as a negative concept in the least, since God's creative power is eternal, and our constant growth in intimacy with the divine hardly would cease at death. But sermons and writings (possibly based on warning others about the seven deadly sins) indeed could present a vivid image of a God who let the punishment fit the crime in a most extreme fashion.

When I recall some of the teachings I heard in youth (not from family - my parents had a most healthy attitude towards God, and never would have believed they did anything worthy of punishment in any case), the image of creation was beyond dismal. If one combined various ideas, all popular in devotion at the time, it was easy to see why anyone would quickly run in another direction from this vindictive Judge. His anger at human disobedience was such that he not only turned an intended paradise into the painful, wicked world we know, but just unbolting the gates of heaven (without lessening any of the evils on earth) required that He push a button that caused the wicked to subject His Son to the worst of deaths. To become holy, one had to be sent increasingly horrid sufferings, all special delivery from the divine hand. (The wicked may end up in hell - but God's friends had major hell here. Not the pain that indeed can come from holy efforts or natural evils, but a carefully scripted series of agonies, apparently critical to developing goodness.) As well, if one did grow closer to God - and consequently have all the more suffering from His hand - one also had to deal with that Satan, seeking to destroy this good (and ideally get one to commit suicide and land in his own domain), had a free hand in sending all sorts of evils. Even in our own day, C. S. Lewis and Alvin Plantiga, who are far from mental midgets, speculated that such natural disasters as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions may be the work of fallen angels.

Considering the amount of time that Franciscans devote to meditation on the Passion (in fact, our Order's largest fault has been to make it often seem that Jesus, the poor man, basically had an Incarnation consisting only in being born and dying), I doubt anyone will think I'm denying the cruel sufferings of Jesus of Nazareth! However, as such modern, orthodox scholars as Tom Wright and Raymond Brown explore superbly, the horror of the crucifixion came about quite naturally. (It was not a divine trick.) It was a tragic outgrowth of Jesus' vocation to proclaim the kingdom. Meditation on the Passion is excellent and powerful, because it reminds us of how fully human Jesus was. (Before any of my more conservative readers begin to boil the oil in which to immerse me, may I remind them of the passage from the Eucharist, "By the mystery of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity." It is the deification which is key, not "if there are no Romans around with scourges, I'd best construct a few of my own.")

Augustine was a combination of brilliant and excessive (not to mention prolific) which probably had more impact on Western Christian thought than any other (with the possible exception of Thomas Aquinas.) His idea that punishment remedied wickedness makes my skin crawl at times. Yet Augustine, living in a time (and having experienced as a Manichean) where dualism, an idea of a second, wicked god who was author of creation, was underlying the good of creation and defending divine omnipotence. He never knew when to stop with the explanations, of course - few brilliant philosophers ever do! Yet the neatness of his explanation, acceptable in a philosophical argument which shows that a divine creator is not incompatible with there being evil in this world, can be a pastoral disaster.

Then again (and don't ask me why), even a search of Yahoo groups (related to any topic) can show that there are many people who want to be punished and abused. (No, I have not visited S&M forums - I am speaking of what is childish and pathetic.) I like to cook, and once visited a forum about recipes, never dreaming that the world of pop psychology and the like would have intruded on that space. Participants were not just interested in cooking, but in 'health issues,' nutritionists solving the ills of the world in ways Jesus of Nazareth could only envy from afar, and in cautioning other readers that such items as basil and vinegar are 'poison.' (Artificial sweeteners, I 'learnt,' cause 'brain death.') I did manage to resist the strong temptation to post a response beginning, "This is Elizabeth, talking to you from the grave...", because irony is too blessed a commodity to be wasted.

Some of those on the forum, indulging in symbolic self flagellation in response to the 'obesity epidemic,' posted details of 'grave sins' such as having exceeded ADA portion sizes or having a chocolate as if they had, perhaps, given the enemy the details of the D-day invasion. One irritating bitch on this forum, who jumped down anyone's throat on any provocation (saying she wanted to imitate some "Dr Phil," who must be a major bastard), whipped those who made such 'confessions.' The 'penance' she imposed involved everything down to analysing what inward self hatred would make someone have a bit of tuna salad that was not part of their 'food plan.' Later posts would show the 'gratitude' of those who liked (to quote one of them) that "Suellen gives us what we need - a good kick up the backside!"

Though my guess would be that those courting the favour of this Suellen are rather bent, it's not uncommon, in the religious realm but also in others, for people to want to be punished. I doubt they are thinking of Augustine at the time. They are being exceedingly childish, thinking that what they need to keep them in line is fear of retaliation from some real or imagined authority figure.

With my usual talent for loose associations, I'm thinking of how those such as Martin Luther struggled with angst over the 'perfection' of their contrition. Thomas Aquinas was setting forth concepts about love and response of the will - perfect contrition (that is, conversion based on perfect love) recognises God as the utmost good and source of our happiness. (Perfect happiness would be that which is eternal, perfect, and unchanging - therefore found only in God.) "Imperfect contrition" did not mean a failing grade and being pushed into hell. Since the 'imperfect' sort was that based on a fear of punishment, it does not grasp the perfection of God and desire for union with Him which would mean real love.

People can speak all they wish of Catholic guilt (though there is an odd variety based on Calvinist infiltration, where one feels guilty when one does no wrong but didn't do what was most perfect. I'll get to that on another occasion, probably when I've had a few Irish whiskeys.) Yet it is telling that Thomas Aquinas saw that which is based on punishment as imperfect - yet so much distorted spirituality was focussed on punishment as the means to holiness.