http://theradicalcatholic.blogspot.it/2016/07/the-denial-of-hell.html
The Denial of Hell
Fourth in a Series on Hell
by
Fr. François Xavier Schouppe, S.J.
much as for is sanguinary
ferocity, was the chief
author of the massacres of
Lyons in 1793; he caused
the destruction of at least
1,600 individuals. Six
years after, in 1799, he
was banished to Cayenne,
and used to give vent
to his infernal rage by
blaspheming the holiest
things. The least act of
religion became the
subject of his jests. Having
seen a soldier make the
sign of the cross, "Imbecile!"
he said to him. "You still
believe in superstition! Do
you not know that God, the
Holy Virgin, Paradise, Hell,
are the inventions of the
accursed tribe of priests?"
Shortly after, he fell sick
and was seized by violent
pains. In an access of fever
he swallowed, at a single
draught, a bottle of liquor.
His disease increased; he
felt as if burned by a
fire that was devouring his
bowels. He uttered frightful
shrieks, called upon God,
the Holy Virgin, a priest,
to come to his relief. "Well,
indeed," said the soldier to
him, "you ask for a priest?
You fear hell then? You used
to curse the priests, make
fun of hell! Alas!" He then
answered: "My tongue was
lying to my heart." Pretty
soon, he expired, vomiting
blood and foam.
by
Fr. François Xavier Schouppe, S.J.
There are some miserable men
- let us rather say, fools
- who, in the delirium of their
iniquity, make bold to
declare that they laugh at hell.
They say so, but only
with their lips; their
consciences protest and give
them the lie.
- let us rather say, fools
- who, in the delirium of their
iniquity, make bold to
declare that they laugh at hell.
They say so, but only
with their lips; their
consciences protest and give
them the lie.
Jean-Marie Collot d'Herbois |
Jean-Marie Collot d'Herbois,
famous for his impiety asmuch as for is sanguinary
ferocity, was the chief
author of the massacres of
Lyons in 1793; he caused
the destruction of at least
1,600 individuals. Six
years after, in 1799, he
was banished to Cayenne,
and used to give vent
to his infernal rage by
blaspheming the holiest
things. The least act of
religion became the
subject of his jests. Having
seen a soldier make the
sign of the cross, "Imbecile!"
he said to him. "You still
believe in superstition! Do
you not know that God, the
Holy Virgin, Paradise, Hell,
are the inventions of the
accursed tribe of priests?"
Shortly after, he fell sick
and was seized by violent
pains. In an access of fever
he swallowed, at a single
draught, a bottle of liquor.
His disease increased; he
felt as if burned by a
fire that was devouring his
bowels. He uttered frightful
shrieks, called upon God,
the Holy Virgin, a priest,
to come to his relief. "Well,
indeed," said the soldier to
him, "you ask for a priest?
You fear hell then? You used
to curse the priests, make
fun of hell! Alas!" He then
answered: "My tongue was
lying to my heart." Pretty
soon, he expired, vomiting
blood and foam.
The following incident
happened in 1837. A young
under-lieutenant, being in
Paris, entered the Church
of the Assumption, near
the Toilers, and saw
a priest kneeling near
a confessional. As he made
religion the habitual subject
of his jokes, he wished
to go to confession to while
away the time, and
went into the confessional.
"Monsieur l'abbé," he said,
"would you be good
enough to hear my
confession?" "Willingly my
son; confess unrestrained."
"But I must first say that I
am a rather unique kind of
a sinner." "No matter; the
sacrament of penance
has been instituted for all
sinners." "But I am not
very much of a believer
in religious matters."
"You believe more than
you think." "Believe? I?
I am a regular scoffer."
The confessor saw with
whom he had to deal,
and that there was
some mystification. He
replied, smiling: "You
are a regular scoffer?
Are you then making
fun of me, too?" The
pretended penitent smiled
in like manner. "Listen,"
the priest went on, "what
you have just done here
is not serious. Let us leave
confession aside; and, if
you please, have a little
chat. I like military people
greatly; and, then, you
have the appearance of a
good, amiable youth. Tell
me, what is your rank?"
"Under-lieutenant." "Will
you remain an under-lieutenant
long?" "Two, three, perhaps
four years." "And after?"
"I shall hope to become
a lieutenant?" "And after?"
"I hope to become a captain."
"And after?" "Lieutenant-colonel?"
"How old will you be then?"
"Forty to forty-five years."
"And after that?" "I shall
become a brigadier general."
"And after?" "If I rise higher,
I shall be general of a
division." "And after?"
"After! there is nothing
more except the Marshal's
baton; but my pretensions
do not reach so high." "Well
and good. But do you intend
to get married?" "Yes,
when I shall be a superior
officer." "Well! There
you are married; a superior
officer, a general, perhaps
even a French marshal, who
knows? And after?" "After?
Upon my word, I do not know
what will be after."
happened in 1837. A young
under-lieutenant, being in
Paris, entered the Church
of the Assumption, near
the Toilers, and saw
a priest kneeling near
a confessional. As he made
religion the habitual subject
of his jokes, he wished
to go to confession to while
away the time, and
went into the confessional.
"Monsieur l'abbé," he said,
"would you be good
enough to hear my
confession?" "Willingly my
son; confess unrestrained."
"But I must first say that I
am a rather unique kind of
a sinner." "No matter; the
sacrament of penance
has been instituted for all
sinners." "But I am not
very much of a believer
in religious matters."
"You believe more than
you think." "Believe? I?
I am a regular scoffer."
The confessor saw with
whom he had to deal,
and that there was
some mystification. He
replied, smiling: "You
are a regular scoffer?
Are you then making
fun of me, too?" The
pretended penitent smiled
in like manner. "Listen,"
the priest went on, "what
you have just done here
is not serious. Let us leave
confession aside; and, if
you please, have a little
chat. I like military people
greatly; and, then, you
have the appearance of a
good, amiable youth. Tell
me, what is your rank?"
"Under-lieutenant." "Will
you remain an under-lieutenant
long?" "Two, three, perhaps
four years." "And after?"
"I shall hope to become
a lieutenant?" "And after?"
"I hope to become a captain."
"And after?" "Lieutenant-colonel?"
"How old will you be then?"
"Forty to forty-five years."
"And after that?" "I shall
become a brigadier general."
"And after?" "If I rise higher,
I shall be general of a
division." "And after?"
"After! there is nothing
more except the Marshal's
baton; but my pretensions
do not reach so high." "Well
and good. But do you intend
to get married?" "Yes,
when I shall be a superior
officer." "Well! There
you are married; a superior
officer, a general, perhaps
even a French marshal, who
knows? And after?" "After?
Upon my word, I do not know
what will be after."
"See, how strange it is!" said
the abbé. Then, in a tone
of voice that grew more sober:
"You know all that shall
happen up to that point,
and you do not know what
will be after. Well, I know,
and I am going to tell you.
After, you shall die, be judged,
and, if you continue to live
as you do, you shall be
damned, you shall go and
burn in hell; that is what
will be after."
the abbé. Then, in a tone
of voice that grew more sober:
"You know all that shall
happen up to that point,
and you do not know what
will be after. Well, I know,
and I am going to tell you.
After, you shall die, be judged,
and, if you continue to live
as you do, you shall be
damned, you shall go and
burn in hell; that is what
will be after."
As the under-lieutenant,
dispirited at this conclusion,
seemed anxious to steal away:
"One moment, sir," said the
abbé. "You are a man of honor.
So am I. Agree that you have
offended me, and owe me an
apology. It will be simple.
For eight days, before retiring
to rest, you will say: 'One day
I shall die; but I laugh at the
idea. After my death I shall
be judged; but I laugh at the
idea. After my judgment,
I shall be damned; but I laugh
at the idea. I shall burn
forever in hell; but I laugh
at the idea!' That is all. But
you are going to give me
your word of honor not to
neglect it, eh?" More and more
wearied, and wishing, at any
price, to extricate himself
from this false step, the
under-lieutenant made the
promise. In the evening, his
word being given, he began
to carry out his promise.
"I shall die," he says. "I shall
be judged." He had not the
courage to add: "I laugh at
the idea." The week had not
passed before he returned
to the Church of the Assumption,
made his confession seriously,
and came out of the confessional
his face bathed with tears,
and with joy in his heart.
dispirited at this conclusion,
seemed anxious to steal away:
"One moment, sir," said the
abbé. "You are a man of honor.
So am I. Agree that you have
offended me, and owe me an
apology. It will be simple.
For eight days, before retiring
to rest, you will say: 'One day
I shall die; but I laugh at the
idea. After my death I shall
be judged; but I laugh at the
idea. After my judgment,
I shall be damned; but I laugh
at the idea. I shall burn
forever in hell; but I laugh
at the idea!' That is all. But
you are going to give me
your word of honor not to
neglect it, eh?" More and more
wearied, and wishing, at any
price, to extricate himself
from this false step, the
under-lieutenant made the
promise. In the evening, his
word being given, he began
to carry out his promise.
"I shall die," he says. "I shall
be judged." He had not the
courage to add: "I laugh at
the idea." The week had not
passed before he returned
to the Church of the Assumption,
made his confession seriously,
and came out of the confessional
his face bathed with tears,
and with joy in his heart.
A young person who had
become an unbeliever
in consequence of her
dissipation, kept incessantly
shooting sarcasm at religion,
and making jests of its most
awful truths. "Juliette," some
one said to her one day, "this
will end badly. God will be
tired of your blasphemies, and
you shall be punished." "Bah,"
she answered insolently.
"It gives me very little trouble.
Who has returned from the
other world to relate what
passes there?" Less than eight
days after she was found in her
room, giving no sign of life, and
already cold. As there was no
doubt that she was dead, she
was put in a coffin and buried.
The following day, the
grave-digger, digging a new
grave beside that of the
unhappy Juliette, heard some
noise, it seemed to him that
there was a knocking in the
adjoining coffin. At once, he
puts his ear to the ground,
and in fact hears a smothered
voice, crying out: "Help! help!"
The authorities were summoned;
by their orders, the grave was
opened, the coffin taken up and
unnailed. The shroud is
removed; there is no further doubt,
Juliette was buried alive. Her
hair, her shroud were in disorder,
and her face was streaming with
blood. While they are releasing
her, and feeling her heart to be
assured that it still beats, she
heaves a sigh, like a person for a
long time deprived of air; then
she opens her eyes, makes an
effort to lift herself up, and
says: "My God, I thank thee."
Afterward, when she had got
her senses well back, and
by the aid of some food,
recovered her strength, she
added: "When I regained
consciousness in the grave
and recognized the frightful
reality of my burial, when
after having uttered shrieks,
I endeavored to break my
coffin, and struck my forehead
against the boards, I saw that
all was useless; death appeared
to me with all its horrors; it was
less the bodily than the eternal
death that frightened me.
I saw I was going to be damned.
My God, I had but too well
deserved it! Then I prayed,
I shouted for help, I lost
consciousness again, until
I awoke above ground. O,
goodness of my God!" she
said, again shedding tears,
"I had despised the truths
of faith; thou hast punished
me, but in thy mercy, I am
converted and repentant."
become an unbeliever
in consequence of her
dissipation, kept incessantly
shooting sarcasm at religion,
and making jests of its most
awful truths. "Juliette," some
one said to her one day, "this
will end badly. God will be
tired of your blasphemies, and
you shall be punished." "Bah,"
she answered insolently.
"It gives me very little trouble.
Who has returned from the
other world to relate what
passes there?" Less than eight
days after she was found in her
room, giving no sign of life, and
already cold. As there was no
doubt that she was dead, she
was put in a coffin and buried.
The following day, the
grave-digger, digging a new
grave beside that of the
unhappy Juliette, heard some
noise, it seemed to him that
there was a knocking in the
adjoining coffin. At once, he
puts his ear to the ground,
and in fact hears a smothered
voice, crying out: "Help! help!"
The authorities were summoned;
by their orders, the grave was
opened, the coffin taken up and
unnailed. The shroud is
removed; there is no further doubt,
Juliette was buried alive. Her
hair, her shroud were in disorder,
and her face was streaming with
blood. While they are releasing
her, and feeling her heart to be
assured that it still beats, she
heaves a sigh, like a person for a
long time deprived of air; then
she opens her eyes, makes an
effort to lift herself up, and
says: "My God, I thank thee."
Afterward, when she had got
her senses well back, and
by the aid of some food,
recovered her strength, she
added: "When I regained
consciousness in the grave
and recognized the frightful
reality of my burial, when
after having uttered shrieks,
I endeavored to break my
coffin, and struck my forehead
against the boards, I saw that
all was useless; death appeared
to me with all its horrors; it was
less the bodily than the eternal
death that frightened me.
I saw I was going to be damned.
My God, I had but too well
deserved it! Then I prayed,
I shouted for help, I lost
consciousness again, until
I awoke above ground. O,
goodness of my God!" she
said, again shedding tears,
"I had despised the truths
of faith; thou hast punished
me, but in thy mercy, I am
converted and repentant."
They who deny hell will be
forced to admit it soon; but
alas! it will be too late.
[The following video contains a Lenten retreat sermon
delivered by a traditional Catholic priest on the subject
of Heaven and Hell.]
http://theradicalcatholic.blogspot.it/2016/07/the-denial-of-hell.html
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