Consideration XXVI — The Pains of Hell

"Et ibunt hi in supplicium aeternum" (Matt. 25:46).

Point I

Two evils the sinner commits when he sins: he abandons God, the supreme Good, and turns to creatures. "Duo enim mala fecit populus meus, me dereliquerunt fontem aquae vivae, et foderunt sibi cisternas; cisternas dissipatas, quae continere non valent aquas" (Jer. 2:13). Because the sinner turns to creatures to the displeasure of God, he will justly be tormented in hell by those same creatures — by fire and by demons — and this is the pain of sense. But because his greater fault, in which sin consists, is the turning of his back on God, the principal pain that will exist in hell will be the pain of loss — the pain of having lost God.

Let us consider first the pain of sense. It is a matter of faith that hell exists. In the midst of the earth there is this prison reserved for the punishment of the rebels against God. What is this hell? It is the place of torments. "In hunc locum tormentorum" — so the condemned rich man called hell (Luke 16:28). A place of torments, where every sense and every faculty of the damned will have its own proper torment; and the more one has offended God through a particular sense, the more will he be tormented in that sense: "Per quae peccat quis, per haec et torquetur" (Wis. 11:17). "Quantum in deliciis fuit, tantum date illi tormentum" (Rev. 18:7). The sight will be tormented with darkness. "Terram tenebrarum, et opertam mortis caligine" (Job 10:21). What compassion it arouses to hear that some poor man is shut up in a dark pit for his entire life, for forty or fifty years! Hell is a pit closed on every side, into which no ray of sun or other light will ever enter. "Usque in aeternum non videbit lumen" (Ps. 48:20). Fire, which on earth gives light, in hell will be entirely dark. "Vox Domini intercidentis flammam ignis" (Ps. 28:7). St. Basil explains: The Lord will separate the light from the fire, so that fire will serve only to burn, but not to illuminate; and Albert the Great explains it more briefly: "Dividet a calore splendorem." The very smoke that issues from this fire will form that storm of darkness spoken of by St. James, which will blind the eyes of the damned: "Quibus procella tenebrarum servata est in aeternum" (Jude 13). St. Thomas says that the damned are granted only so much light as suffices to torment them further: "Quantum sufficit ad videndum illa, quae torquere possunt." They will see in that dim glimmer the hideousness of the other reprobate and of the demons, who will assume horrible forms to terrify them all the more.

The sense of smell will be tormented. What a pain it would be to find yourself shut up in a room with a rotting corpse! "De cadaveribus eorum ascendit foetor" (Is. 34:3). The damned person must dwell in the midst of many millions of other damned — alive to pain, but corpses in the stench they emit. St. Bonaventure says that if the body of one damned soul were cast out of hell, it would suffice to kill all mankind with its stench. And then some fools say: If I go to hell, I will not be alone. Wretches! The more there are in hell, the more they suffer. "Ibi," says St. Thomas, "miserorum societas miseriam non minuet, sed augebit." They suffer more, I say, from the stench, from the screams, and from the crowding; for in hell they will be piled one on top of another, like sheep huddled together in winter: "Sicut oves in inferno positi sunt" (Ps. 48:15). Indeed more — they will be like grapes squeezed under the winepress of the wrath of God: "Et ipse calcat torcular vini furoris irae Dei" (Rev. 19:15). From this will follow the pain of immobility. "Fiant immobiles quasi lapis" (Exod. 15:16). So the damned person, just as he falls into hell on the final day, will have to remain without ever changing position or being able to move so much as a foot or a hand, for as long as God is God.

The hearing will be tormented with the continual howls and weeping of those poor despairing souls. The demons will make incessant uproar. "Sonitus terroris semper in aure eius" (Job 15:21). What a pain it is when one wishes to sleep and hears a sick person continually moaning, a dog barking, or a child crying! Wretched damned, who must continually hear for all eternity those noises and the screams of those tormented souls! The taste will be tormented with hunger; the damned will suffer a ravenous hunger: "Famem patientur ut canes" (Ps. 58:15). But he will never have a crumb of bread. He will then suffer such a thirst that all the water of the sea would not suffice; but he will not have even a drop: a drop the rich man asked for, but he has not received it yet, and he never, never will.

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my Lord, here at Your feet is one who has made so little account of Your grace and of Your punishments. Woe to me if You, my Jesus, had not had pity on me; for how many years would I have been in that foul furnace, where so many like me are already burning! Ah, my Redeemer, how is it that, thinking of this, I do not burn with love for You? How could I for the future think of offending You again? Ah, let it never be, my Jesus Christ; let me die a thousand times first. Since You have begun, complete the work. You have drawn me from the filth of so many of my sins, and with such love You have called me to love You; now make it so that this time You give me, I spend it entirely for You. How the damned would desire one day, one hour of the time You grant me; and what shall I do? Shall I continue to spend it on things that displease You? No, my Jesus, do not allow it, through the merits of that blood which until now has freed me from hell. I love You, O supreme Good, and because I love You, I repent of having offended You; I wish to offend You no more, but always to love You.

My Queen and Mother Mary, pray to Jesus for me, and obtain for me the gift of perseverance and of His holy love.

Point II

The pain that most torments the senses of the damned is the fire of hell, which torments the touch. "Vindicta carnis impii ignis, et vermis" (Sirach 7:19). For this reason the Lord makes special mention of it in the judgment: "Discedite a me, maledicti, in ignem aeternum" (Matt. 25:41). Even on this earth, the punishment of fire is the greatest of all; but there is so great a difference between our fire and that of hell that St. Augustine says our fire seems but a painting in comparison: "In eius comparatione noster hic ignis depictus est." And St. Vincent Ferrer says that in comparison, our fire is cold. The reason is that our fire is created for our benefit, but the fire of hell is created by God expressly to torment. "Longe alius," says Tertullian, "est ignis, qui usui humano, alius qui Dei iustitiae deservit." The wrath of God kindles this avenging fire: "Ignis succensus est in furore meo" (Jer. 15:14). Hence Isaiah calls the fire of hell a spirit of burning: "Si abluerit Dominus sordes... in spiritu ardoris" (Is. 4). The damned person will be sent not to fire, but into fire: "Discedite a me, maledicti, in ignem aeternum." So the wretch will be surrounded by fire, like a log within a furnace. The damned will find himself with an abyss of fire below, an abyss above, and an abyss all around. If he touches, if he sees, if he breathes — he touches, sees, and breathes nothing but fire. He will be in fire as a fish is in water. But this fire will not only be around the damned; it will also enter within his very innards to torment him. His body will become entirely fire, so that his bowels will burn within his belly, his heart within his breast, his brain within his skull, his blood within his veins, even the marrow within his bones: each damned person will become in himself a furnace of fire. "Pone eos ut clibanum ignis" (Ps. 20:10). Some cannot bear to walk along a road beaten by the sun, or to stay in a closed room with a brazier, or to endure a spark that flies from a candle; and yet they do not fear that fire which devours, as Isaiah says: "Quis poterit habitare de vobis cum igne devorante?" (Is. 33:14). Just as a beast devours a kid, so the fire of hell devours the damned; it devours him, but without ever causing him to die. Go on, fool, says St. Peter Damian (speaking to the impure), go on gratifying your flesh, for a day will come when your impurities will become pitch within your innards, making the flame that burns you in hell greater and more tormenting: "Venit dies, imo nox, quando libido tua vertetur in picem, qua se nutriat perpetuus ignis in tuis visceribus." St. Jerome adds that this fire will carry with it all the torments and pains suffered on this earth — pains of the side, the head, the bowels, the nerves: "In uno igne omnia supplicia sentiunt in inferno peccatores." In this fire there will also be the pain of cold: "Ad nimium calorem transeat ab aquis nivium" (Job 24:19). But it must always be understood that all the pains of this earth are a shadow, as St. John Chrysostom says, compared to the pains of hell: "Pone ignem, pone ferrum, quid, nisi umbra ad illa tormenta?"

The faculties of the soul will also have their own proper torment. The damned will be tormented in the memory, by recalling the time he had in this life to save himself, which he spent damning himself; and the graces he received from God, which he refused to use. In the intellect, by thinking of the great good he has lost — paradise and God — and that for this loss there is no more remedy. In the will, by seeing that everything he asks for will always be denied. "Desiderium peccatorum peribit" (Ps. 111:10). The wretch will never have anything he desires, and will always have everything he abhors — which will be his eternal pains. He will wish to escape from his torments and find peace, but he will always be tormented and will never have peace.

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my Jesus, Your blood and Your death are my hope. You died to free me from eternal death. Ah, Lord, who has shared more in the merits of Your passion than I, wretch that I am, who so many times have deserved hell? Do not let me live any longer ungrateful for so many graces You have given me. You have freed me from the fire of hell because You do not wish me to burn in that fire of torment, but to burn with the sweet fire of Your love. Help me, then, that I may fulfill Your desire. If I were now in hell, I could no longer love You; but since I can love You, I wish to love You. I love You, infinite Goodness; I love You, my Redeemer, who have loved me so much. How could I have lived so long forgetful of You! I thank You that You have not forgotten me. If You had forgotten me, I would either now be in hell, or I would not feel sorrow for my sins. This sorrow that I feel in my heart for having offended You, this desire I experience to love You greatly — these are gifts of Your grace, which still assists me. I thank You, my Jesus. I hope for the future to give You the life that remains to me. I renounce everything. I wish to think only of serving You and giving You pleasure. Remind me always of the hell I have deserved and the graces You have given me; and do not allow me ever again to turn my back on You and condemn myself to that pit of torments.

O Mother of God, pray for me, a sinner. Your intercession has freed me from hell; with this same intercession free me, O my Mother, from sin, which alone can condemn me again to hell.

Point III

But all these pains are nothing compared to the pain of loss. It is not the darkness, the stench, the screams, or the fire that makes hell; the pain that makes hell is the pain of having lost God. St. Bruno says: "Addantur tormenta tormentis, ac Deo non priventur." Let torments be added to torments, provided they are not deprived of God. And St. John Chrysostom says: "Si mille dixeris gehennas, nihil par dices illius doloris." If you were to name a thousand hells, you would say nothing equal to that sorrow. And St. Augustine adds that if the damned could enjoy the sight of God, "nullam poenam sentirent, et infernus ipse verteretur in paradisum." They would feel no pain, and hell itself would be turned into paradise. To understand something of this pain, consider that if someone loses, for example, a gem worth a hundred ducats, he feels great pain; but if it were worth two hundred, he feels double the pain; if four hundred, still more. In sum, the greater the value of the thing lost, the greater the pain. What good has the damned person lost? An infinite good, which is God; hence St. Thomas says that he feels a pain in a certain sense infinite: "Poena damnati est infinita, quia est amissio boni infiniti."

This pain is now feared only by the saints. "Haec amantibus, non contemnentibus poena est," says St. Augustine. St. Ignatius of Loyola used to say: Lord, I can endure every pain, but not this — to be deprived of You. But this pain is in no way grasped by sinners, who are content to live months and years without God, because the wretches live in darkness. In death, however, they will come to know the great good they are losing. The soul, upon leaving this life, as St. Antoninus says, immediately understands that it was created for God: "Separata autem anima a corpore intelligit Deum summum bonum et ad illud esse creatam." Whereupon it immediately rushes to embrace its supreme Good; but being in sin, it will be driven away by God. If a dog sees a hare and someone holds it with a chain, what force the dog exerts to break the chain and go seize its prey! The soul, upon separating from the body, is naturally drawn to God, but sin divides it from God and sends it far away to hell. "Iniquitates vestrae diviserunt inter vos, et Deum vestrum" (Is. 59:2). All of hell, then, consists in that first word of the condemnation: "Discedite a me, maledicti." Go away, Jesus Christ will say; I no longer wish to see your face. "Si mille quis ponat gehennas, nihil tale dicturus est, quale est exosum esse Christo." If anyone should name a thousand hells, he would say nothing equal to being hateful to Christ. When David condemned Absalom to appear before him no more, so great was the pain to Absalom that he answered: Tell my father either to let me see his face or to give me death (2 Kings 14:24). Philip II, upon seeing a nobleman standing irreverently in church, said to him: Do not appear before me again. So great was the pain of that nobleman that upon reaching home he died of grief. What will it be when God at death says to the reprobate: Go away, I no longer wish to see you. "Abscondam faciem ab eo, et invenient eum omnia mala" (Deut. 31:17). You, Jesus will say to the damned on the final day, are no longer mine; I am no longer yours. "Voca nomen eius, non populus meus, quia vos non populus meus, et ego non ero vester" (Hosea 1:9).

What pain it is for a son whose father dies, or for a wife when her husband dies, to say: My father, my husband, I shall never see you again. Ah, if we could now hear a damned soul weeping, and we asked: Soul, why do you weep so bitterly? This alone it would answer: I weep because I have lost God, and I shall never see Him again. If only the wretch could at least love its God in hell and resign itself to His will. But no; if it could do that, hell would not be hell. The unhappy soul cannot resign itself to the will of God, because it is made an enemy of the divine will. Nor can it love its God any longer, but hates Him and will hate Him forever; and this will be its hell — to know that God is the supreme Good and yet to find itself compelled to hate Him, at the same time that it knows Him worthy of infinite love. "Ego sum ille nequam privatus amore Dei" — so a demon answered when asked by St. Catherine of Genoa who he was. The damned will hate and curse God, and cursing God, will also curse the benefits He bestowed — creation, redemption, the sacraments, especially that of baptism and of penance, and above all the Most Holy Sacrament of the altar. He will hate all the angels and saints, but especially his guardian angel and his patron saints, and most of all the divine Mother; but principally he will curse the three divine Persons, and among them especially the Son of God, who once died for his salvation, cursing His wounds, His blood, His sufferings, and His death.

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my God, You then are my supreme Good, infinite Good, and I have voluntarily lost You so many times. I already knew that by my sin I was greatly displeasing You and losing Your grace, and yet I did it. Ah, if I did not see You, O Son of God, nailed to the cross, dying for me, I would no longer have the courage to seek You or to hope for pardon from You. Eternal Father, look not at me; look at this beloved Son, who asks You for mercy on my behalf; hear Him, and pardon me. By now I should have been in hell for so many years, without hope of ever being able to love You or recover Your lost grace. My God, I repent above every evil for this injury I have done You — of renouncing Your friendship and despising Your love for the wretched pleasures of this earth. Oh, that I had died a thousand times first! How could I have been so blind and so foolish! I thank You, my Lord, for giving me time to remedy the evil I have done. Since by Your mercy I am outside of hell and can love You, my God, I wish to love You. I wish to delay no longer in turning myself wholly to You. I love You, infinite Goodness; I love You, my life, my treasure, my love, my all. Remind me always, O Lord, of the love You have shown me and the hell where I ought to be; so that this thought may always inflame me to make acts of love and to say to You always: I love You, I love You, I love You.

O Mary, my Queen, my hope, and my Mother, if I were in hell, I could not even love you any longer. I love you, my Mother, and to you I entrust the resolution never again to cease loving you and my God. Help me; pray to Jesus for me.