Once Loved Always Loved: Chapter Four

How do divine justice and divine love relate to each other? This question comes to the fore in discussions of the traditional doctrine of eternal damnation. The model explicitly invokes the attribute of justice as the principal rationale for God’s condemnation of the wicked to everlasting torment. Impenitent sinners deserve to be punished for the evil they have inflicted upon their fellow creatures and for their defiance of God’s holiness and majesty. Adherents of the punitive model appeal to a portrait of divinity which they believe is clearly presented in the Old Testament and reaffirmed in the New: in his wrath God punishes the wicked; in his mercy he forgives those who repent.

The love–justice polarity is eschatologically expressed in the doctrines of heaven and hell. Heaven represents the glorious and incomparable communication of the divine love. God graciously offers humanity eternal bliss within his Trinitarian life. Hell, on the other hand, represents the severest expression of the divine wrath. In his holy and final judgment upon unrepented sin, God withdraws the offer of heaven and eternally excludes the damned from the beatific vision.

Love and justice—the two divine attributes stand in a coordinated relationship with each other, each coming into play at the last judgment. The theological tradition is loathe to pit the two against each other, yet the impression of incompatibility and conflict is difficult to ignore. God, so it at least appears, is sometimes merciful and sometimes punitive. In his influential book The Problem of Hell, Jonathan Kvanvig identifies the theological problem:

A great divide lies between the type of presentation one finds of the strong view of hell and many of the simple alternatives to it. The standard heresies concerning hell usually focus on God’s loving nature and claim that, when describing the ultimate character of hell, more attention must be paid to the loving character of God. More traditional conceptions of hell standardly appeal to divergent aspects of God’s character in explaining heaven and hell. Heaven is usually explained by God’s love, but hell is explained by God’s justice. Where the heresies find unity and stability in God’s motivational structure, orthodoxy has often given accounts that offer a picture of variability and inconstancy.

I want to draw a moral from the distinction between these two approaches, but first we need to understand clearly what is at stake between them. Explaining some of God’s actions by appealing to one of his characteristics and different divine actions by appealing to other characteristics is not in itself a mistake. Of course, the present case is not simply an example of two different actions by God. Instead, in the present case, we have two different actions that are mutually exclusive and jointly exhaustive of the logically possible actions that might be performed. That is, the disposition of our case by God must be, according to Christianity, either to consign one to hell or welcome one into heaven.¹

Is reconciliation between mercy and justice possible? Not if the latter is understood in retributive terms. Forgiveness, precisely to be forgiveness, must be an unmerited remission of the penalty due to the sinner. Likewise, retributive justice cannot be understood as communication of love, for it is only concerned with the payment of just desserts:

Traditional Christian accounts of hell begin by characterizing God’s fundamental desire in relation to humanity as a desire for union with human beings, but in the discussion of hell, this portrayal is abandoned. No longer does love seem to be part of the picture at all; instead, God’s dominant motive is portrayed in terms of justice (at best) or vindictiveness (at worst).²

The way forward, Kvanvig believes, is to provide an explanation that obviates the shift from one perspective to the other, from love to justice, justice to love. This solution must issue from the one undivided nature of God, thus integrating heaven and hell and eliminating even the appearance of divorce between the two, resulting in what Kvanvig calls an “issuant conception of hell.”

But sola Scriptura proponents of the retributive model of hell have little interest in reconciling the divine attributes. A plain reading of Holy Scripture, they argue, reveals a personal God whose wrath is a determining feature of salvation history.

The Lord is a jealous God and avenging, the Lord is avenging and wrathful; the Lord takes vengeance on his adversaries and keeps wrath for his enemies. The Lord is slow to anger and of great might, and the Lord will by no means clear the guilty. His way is in whirlwind and storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet. (Nahum 1:2-3)

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is not a kindly grandfather who indulges his children. He is the holy and righteous Creator who directs history through his providential rule. The respected evangelical scholar D. A. Carson may be cited as representative:

Although many have tried to contrast the “gentle Jesus, meek and mild” with the God of the Old Testament, the naked reality is that no one in the Bible is reported to talk as much about hell as Jesus. Yes, he weeps over Jerusalem, but his compassion does not prevent him from uttering the woes of Matthew 23. Peter’s sermon on the day of Pentecost is an invitation to flee the corruption of the day (Acts 2:40): the “fleeing” is appropriate terminology precisely because, in line with the inherited theology of the Old Testament prophets, that corruption will surely bring judgment. Paul can describe the gospel he preaches as that which saves men and women from the coming wrath (1 Thess. 1:10). No New Testament writer has provided a more profound, terrifying, and yet strangely compassionate account of the wrath of God than Paul in Romans 1:18-3:20. And the last book of the Bible not only depicts, in apocalyptic imagery, horrific sequences of judgments, but speaks of “the wine of God’s fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath”; those who worship the beast “will be tormented with burning sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment rises for ever and ever” (Rev. 14:10-11).

The point that cannot be escaped is that God’s wrath is not some minor and easily dismissed peripheral element to the Bible’s plot-line. Theologically, God’s wrath is not inseparable from what it means to be God. Rather, his wrath is a function of his holiness as he confronts sin. But insofar as holiness is an attribute of God, and sin is the endemic condition of this world, this side of the Fall divine wrath cannot be ignored or evaded. It is not going too far to say that the Bible would not have a plot-line at all if there were no wrath.³

The above construal of the divine wrath may be supported by numerous biblical passages, especially from the Old Testament yet not exclusively so. As Carson notes, the wrath of God is explicitly asserted in several places in the New Testament. Hronich quotes Romans 1:18-25 as an important example:

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. . . .

I was curious to see how our author would tackle this topic given the challenges posed both by his evangelical commitments and the aim and structure of Once Loved Always Loved. As a rule, evangelicals will always seek to firmly ground their theological positions in the plain reading of the biblical testimony, supported by biblical scholarship when possible. Therein lies the difficulty and challenge. Just about every biblical passage is open to different, and conflicting, interpretations, and this is true even if the reader stays within the ambit of what we might call “objective” historical interpretation. How then do we go about choosing between the interpretive possibilities? A genuine scholar will read as much of the scholarship as he can, consider the exegetical alternatives, carefully weigh the evidence and arguments, and then commit himself to a specific position, assuming an indecisive, confident, or magisterial tone. The rest of us will just fake it. The “Trust me, I know what I am talking about” strategy often works in apologetic discussions and debates, but eventually somebody pulls back the curtain and we stand revealed as imposters. To my embarrassment and humiliation, this has happened to me more times than I can count. I now try to cover my ass by disclaimers like “I’m a blogger, dammit, not a biblical scholar.”

Hronich is not a biblical scholar, nor does he pretend to be one. But he does have strong opinions informed by his extensive reading of the relevant scholarship (confirmed by his very impressive bibliography). Consider, for example, how he addresses the question of divine wrath in St. Paul and specifically Romans 1:18-25. He first describes the popular retributive view and then pits against it his opinion, in this case represented by scholar Christopher Marshall. Marshall/Hronich argue that Paul understood the intent of divine punishment as converting and restorative:

In light of human sinfulness, then, Paul understands historical adversity in terms of divine wrath working itself out against sin and evil. Such wrath is not, strictly speaking, retributive in character in the sense of the external infliction of equivalent penalties for the deeds done. Rather, it is an intrinsic punishment in which people experience the ruinous consequences of their own choices. And the purpose of such wrath is not purely punitive but, ultimately, redemptive or restorative. The point is not to torment human beings but to enable them to see their moral frailty and their consequent need for God’s healing assistance. . . . It is God’s prerogative to exercise wrath, and God does so in service of his saving justice.⁴

Hronich then proceeds to interpret Romans 1:18-25 in light of Marshall’s reflections on divine wrath. If divine justice intends restoration, then the passage reads differently than we might otherwise expect. Instead of externally punishing us, as a ruler or judge might do, God “hands us over” to the consequences of our sinful actions and impurities, in the hope that resultant suffering will bring about repentance. These consequences are intrinsic to the order of God’s good creation.

Hronich does not share with us scholarly critiques of the nonretributive construal of divine wrath. He invites us, rather, to trust his approval of Marshall’s interpretation of Paul. I deem this an acceptable and reasonable method. It is certainly superior to the pretensions to infallibility that one typically finds among online apologists and pundits. Readers of Eclectic Orthodoxy will recognize Hronich’s method as similar to my own. I read stuff, consider the arguments as best I can, and then share my opinions. If I’m acquainted with a scholar who disagrees, I will sometimes cite him or her in a footnote. Wisdom lies in knowing which ditch you’re willing to die in.

Given my limited acquaintance with recent Pauline scholarship, I cannot swear that Marshall’s claim that the Apostle asserts a restorative construal of divine wrath is historically probable, but I find it a plausible thesis and am happy to let Hronich run with it. My guess, however, is that a decisive biblical case in favor of the restorative construal cannot be demonstrated on the grounds of Scripture alone, at least not if the Bible is read as conservative Protestants want to read it, namely, literally and plainly. All it takes is a few stories to raise doubts. Let’s begin with Noah and the flood (Gen 6-7), the tower of Babel (Gen 11), and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen 19). If they don’t convince, we’ll move on to the ten plagues of Egypt (Ex 8-12) and the Lord’s supernatural execution of Korah, Dothan, and Abiram, along with their families and followers, followed by his slaying of those Israelites (14,700 in number) who murmured against Moses and Aaron (Num 16). And to top it off, let’s talk about the Lord’s command to slaughter the inhabitants of the seven great cities of Canaan. Marcion did have a point. Some of the renderings of God in the Old Testament are indeed morally problematic if read literally. The problem posed by the retributive texts require a hermeneutic that sola Scriptura inerrantists cannot provide. In various places Hronich hints at an adequate hermeneutic, but so far he has not elaborated it. From my Orthodox perspective, this is a weakness.

Finally, let’s consider the following defense of the retributive model of hell advanced by William Lane Craig:

It seems to me that the doctrine of Hell really does provide a very compelling reason to think that God’s justice is retributive because at that point all possibility of redemption is past. There isn’t any sort of reformative purpose that could be served by divine punishment at that point; it is simply to give the wicked their just desert.⁵

I actually like Craig’s argument—if one is discussing hell with proponents of the free will model. It turns the table upon them. Given that the sufferings of the damned are irredeemable, what is the point of hell? Yes, the damned in some problematic sense have “chosen” hell, and therefore have “accepted” their sufferings; but really, what is the point of hell? It only gains a purpose, Craig argues, if the divine wrath demands retributive punishment. But of course, Craig’s argument presupposes the existence of an eternally populated hell. It therefore does not touch universalist proposals.

Kronich identifies the critical weakness of Craig’s argument: it distorts the divine love:

I believe it to be an uncontroversial statement that to love someone means to will their highest good insofar as one is able. If such is true, then inflicting punishments lacking the intention and possibility of reforming the punished is necessarily unloving. Perhaps Craig might suggest that God loves the damned insofar as He respects their dignity as decision-making moral agents who ought to reap what they sow. Even if such were true, this would hardly justify an eternal punishment, yet there is reason to believe it is not true because it fails to promote the damned’s highest good. The goodness of satisfying a heroin addict’s immediate desire is trumped since it promotes an addiction at obvious odds with the addict’s highest good. To love someone is thus not simply to value their good in some mitigated sense but their good in a final (or highest) sense.⁶

Exactly! Recall Kvanvig’s objection to the traditional doctrine of hell: heaven and hell appeal for their justification to different attributes in the divine nature. Why heaven? Because God desires the company and well-being of the blessed. Heaven issues from the unmerited love and grace of the Holy Trinity. Why hell? Because the divine justice demands the everlasting punishment of the reprobate. They deserve what’s coming to them. But if in his absolute love God wills the highest good of every rational creature, then this cleavage within the divine essence between love and justice becomes unintelligible.

Footnotes

[1] Jonathan Kvanvig, The Problem of Hell (1993), 109-110.

[2] Ibid., 110-111.

[3] D. A. Carson, The Gagging of God (2002), 233.

[4] Christopher Marshall, Beyond Retribution (2001), 175; quoted by Andrew Hronich, Once Loved Always Loved (2023), 134.

[5] Quoted by Hronich, 143.

[6] Ibid.