My Dearest Foe in Heaven
14 September 2003

Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day.
Hamlet, Act One, Scene 2.
I cruise about and read other Catholic blogs for the fun of it, and it seems most of them are more interesting than mine. Certainly some people have much more edifying things to say than I do.

I saw a thread that was picked up in couple of places that I interpret as being a complaint about people finding fault with various aspects of the Catholic Church in the US and calling for renewal. The general tenor appears to be, “Take out the beam that is in your own eye,” always a legitimate consideration. I don’t know if any of the writers were thinking of me; actually I doubt that anyone ever thinks of me—why should they? At any rate, I might be considered part of the class being criticized. And the most important point, that renewal of the Church must begin with my own renewal in Christ is clearly true. Nor can anyone who is not praying for the Church and her pastors presume to criticize. Ultimately, it is the grace of God that is going to renew the Church. I don’t think, however, that this precludes speaking the truth about propositions, but I would prefer to shy away from attacks on individuals.

By the same token, I don’t think I’ll participate in a game I’ve seen going around Catholic blog-land called “Create Your Own Hell.” I think this may be the sequel to a test I took a couple of months ago trying to match the user with Purgatory or one of the circles of Hell. Both seem to have the same general design and both are based on the Inferno of Dante. Not that I don’t agree with the sentiments of many of my colleagues that the behavior and ideas of the people they are proposing for the various circles are indeed of the kind that could lead to eternal damnation, but if I were to try to let my fancy run in that direction, I would have a lot of trouble deciding who deserves the deepest damnation.

But seriously, I don’t really want to see anyone condemned to Hell. My brother-in-law is fond of condemning people to Hell, like Hitler, Stalin, Mao Zedong, Pol Pot, for example, as dictators who killed millions of their own subjects. He has a point. I find it hard to imagine meeting these characters in Heaven, or the hijackers who destroyed the World Trade Center, for that matter. But it would be a good spiritual exercise to try to do so. Not, that is, to forgive them, since I am neither God nor one personally injured by them, but to pray for the grace to rejoice at the thought that one of these seemingly entirely evil people might have repented and been saved. Moreover, to realize that the same seed of evil that led to the crimes these men committed lies in my heart too, and if I expect God to forgive me, He could also forgive one of them, if they sought forgiveness. It is easier to rejoice at their presumed damnation than to rejoice at their possible salvation, but that incorporates more of the fleshly desire for revenge than the charity which brought Jesus Christ to the Cross.

I thought of this during the past week because I found myself doing it a little closer to home. Someone at work mentioned a certain former vice-president of the company, who is cordially disliked by most of the people who work in my office. Almost all of those who were with the company when he was around reported to him at one time or another, except for me. But in my case, he did something that as far as I can tell involved listening to some kind of (I believe) false accusation of sexual harassment against me, whereby he threatened to have me fired if the accusation was ever repeated. Since I was never told what I was supposed to have done or to whom, I was never able to mount any kind of defense. The charges were apparently withdrawn, but ever since that day I have not gone to work without a twinge of fear. When he was with the company, my fear was constant; I trembled at the sound of his voice. Anyway, at the mention of his name, I found myself putting him in a category with the dictators mentioned above, and stating, “The only reason he’s not burning in Hell is that he appears to be still alive.” I had not realized until then how much I hated him, I, who prefer to think that I don’t hate anybody. And he’s not some historical figure I never met or even a living politician I’m not ever likely to meet. He is a person who—I have reason to believe—actually wronged me. To see the darkness of hatred and unforgiveness in my own soul frightened me. I do not believe that I have yet forgiven him. May God grant me the grace to do so soon.