Crucifix in the St Crucifix Chapel, Cordes-sur-Ciel, France (sculptor unknown)
This morning – Trinity 3 for us Anglicans, 11th of Ordinary Time for modern RCs – the second reading was from 2 Corinthians 5:
“For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands. We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing. For we will put on heavenly bodies; we will not be spirits without bodies.While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it’s not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life. God himself has prepared us for this, and as a guarantee he has given us his Holy Spirit.
So we are always confident, even
though we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with
the Lord. For we live by believing and not by
seeing. Yes, we are fully confident, and we would
rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the
Lord. Yet whether we are here in this body or
away from this body, our goal is to please him. For we must all stand before Christ to be
judged. We will each receive whatever we deserve for the good or evil we have
done in this earthly body.”
When I saw this I wondered what our little Algerian priest
would say about it; and I couldn’t help wondering also about its relation to
Luther and sola fide. However, what
he said was surprising and, I thought, rather marvellous. “Don’t think, he
said, “that ‘standing before Christ to be judged’ is like the courtroom of the
Assizes.” And he pointed to the huge and fascinating 17C crucifix after which
the chapel we were in was named (see above). “When you stand before him,” he said, “you stand before Love Himself. And it is not he who
will judge you. It is your own heart that will judge you, in the face and in
the presence of that love.”
I found this a powerful and extraordinary thought. It was,
of course, neither his nor new: in the Orthodox faith it is common, and it was
uttered in a slightly different way by both St John Chrysostom and St Basil the
Great. In one sense, it is a comforting thought: as Sergei Komarov puts it, “no
one is going to be dragged anywhere like a caught thief.” And Gregory
Narekatsi, the Armenian poet, wrote “Isn’t God’s judgement still a meeting with
God?/ Where will the Judgement be? I’m going there!” Yet the thought of our
standing – you, I, us chickens just as we are – before the Son of God himself,
with his eyes of absolute love upon us, is both pure joy and real terror. Even
the most faithful and loving among us know that they are going to need a great
deal of mercy at that moment.
The greatest thoughts I have read about the Last Judgement
are those of C.S. Lewis, scattered about his writings. “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God,
‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will
be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could
be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss
it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.” Moreover, he says
somewhere else, Hell is not fire and brimstone: it is cold and dark. Why?
Because Heaven is the continual presence of God in light and warmth. But some
there are to whom that would be unbearable. For them God has, in his mercy,
left a place where they can live Eternity far away from him. It is cold, dark and
dreary, but that is all they have made themselves capable of.
This is entirely
compatible with the idea of our own heart’s judging us in Christ’s presence. And
it should give us furiously to think.
