Journal

In their book “The Lonely American: Drifting Apart in the Twenty-First Century,” authors Jacqueline Olds and Richard Schwartz, a husband and wife psychiatrist team, offer a thought provoking commentary on the increasing state of isolation experienced by a rapidly growing number of persons in this country.  Studies from evolutionary biology, social and neuro psychology are piling up and serving up the same story: we are far more social creatures than we realize; it is built into our brain’s circuitry (not to mention our reproductive biology).  The more one reads about and meditates on these realities of our nature the more one can conclude that the ultimate bliss for us as human persons is a state of profound, permanent communion with one another. We seek this level of communion regardless of our beliefs. For those adhering to a religion it is found in the liturgical celebration.  Others find it in the ecstasy of a U2 concert when everyone is singing in unison “We are One..not the same, but One.”  One.

If ultimate bliss is profound, permanent communion then hell is permanent exclusion.  Again in “The Lonely American,” the authors explore the childhood terror that every human person has experienced at some level: being left out by the group. But what we’re finding is that the fear of exclusion never really goes away, in fact it is behind and informs much of the extraordinary complexity of social interactions, especially in small groups.  A great deal of our brain’s neocortex is dedicated to the exceptionally complicated task of deciphering the myriad ways in which another person’s face is reacting to ours as we speak. (This critical function, incidentally, is thwarted when face to face interactions are supplanted by other means of communication) “Do you get me? Am I accepted by you? Are we understanding each other?”  Humans made it off the African plains because of our ability to unite together in small, tightly knit bands, so the reward for growing in social intelligence is survival and acceptance by the group while the cost of refusing to do so is, ultimately, death alone. The mere thought is deeply troubling.

There is a Gospel passage which talks about heaven as permanent communion and hell as permanent exclusion. It is Luke 13.22-35. “The door will be shut.”  The finality of those words bring either comfort, uncertainty or disbelief, depending on the person.  It is passages like this which seal the deal for many.  “I don’t believe in a God that would do that to others,” as though it is God’s choice instead of theirs. God’s choice is to let us know ahead of time.  Our choice is to accept, ignore, or construct a kinder, gentler version of God in our minds – one who will let us pursue whatever life we want on earth and then reward us for it at the end.  That would be quite a sweet deal if it weren’t pure fantasy.  I’m sure children would like that kind of deal from their parents.  (Isn’t it interesting that the deal we’d like from God is not one we view as healthy for our children?)  Or perhaps the over-used image of souls baking in the flames while being stuck with forks has become so comical as to suggest there isn’t even the possibility of something other than heaven. But if the promise of bliss through union is so sweetly compelling there has to exist an alternative, in fact our free will demands it.  Permanent communion or eternal dissolution.