Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been wrestling with what “universalism” really means and what I think about it. Here are some thoughts.
“Universalism” is the belief that everyone will be saved.
Though I wish that this were true, I do not believe it for at least four reasons:
(1) it is not what scripture seems to teach. Yes, I am aware of the tension in scripture between universal and particularist passages. But whereas the universal passages can be understood within the context of particularism, in my judgment the converse is not also true.
(2) it seems to contradict the broad Christian tradition. The Fifth Ecumenical Council’s anathemas against Origen seem to preclude universalism generally. Yes, I am aware that some particularly in the Eastern Orthodox tradition understand these anathemas as relating primarily to Origen’s particular metaphysics. Yes, I am aware that Gregory of Nyssa, arguably a universalist with a non-Origenist metaphysic, was called the “Father of the Fathers” by the Seventh Ecumenical Council. But in addition to this specific Council there are many writings by other Fathers and Doctors of the Church that emphasize a dual outcome eschatology. A dual outcome eschatology is the basic historic teaching of the Church.
(3) it seems to contradict reason. A “necessary” universalism would require the limitation of Divine and/or human freedom. Divine and human freedom are required for reason to be, in fact, “reasonable.” A “contingent” universalism would require the belief that all human beings will, in fact, eventually choose salvation. Such a belief contradicts substantial available empirical evidence, as discussed in point (4) below, and such a major contradiction is unreasonable.
(4) it seems to contradict experience. There is substantial empirical evidence that some (many) people are not “saved” and do not choose “salvation.” “Salvation,” of course, refers not just to the afterlife, but to the manner and quality of life here and now. It is not at all difficult to find multitudes of examples of people who clearly and stubbornly choose death over salvation. For example, in one of my classes last year, a local prosecutor did a guest lecture on the problem of child pornography. The people that perpetrate these horrific crimes are choosing death. They have hardened themselves against the good to such a degree that they choose to film themselves committing multiple acts of rape and sodomy upon small children and even babies. History suggests some of these monsters will remain monsters to the grave.
It seems clear to me, then, that the four sources of theological authority — scripture (as primary), tradition, reason, and experience — all seem to speak against what I have defined as universalism.
But what about the “hope” that everyone will be saved? I appreciate the hopefulness expressed in some contemporary theologians such as von Balthasar and Alfayev, as well as in Barth and his evangelical interpreters such as Bloesch, Braaten, Bauckham and Hart. These theologians suggest that we cannot teach dogmatically that everyone will in fact be saved, but that we can hope and pray that this might be so.
Presently I think this sort of “hopeful universalism” — a label that in my view ends up confusing things — is at the same time persmissible, required, and incorrect.
I think the hope that everyone will be saved is incorrect because scripture, tradition, reason and experience teach us that not everyone in fact is or will be saved. The reality of human nature and of God’s love and justice are that some (many) have persisted and will persist in their howling rejection of the good. It is futile to “hope” for that which cannot be. Therefore I cannot hope that everyone will be saved in the sense of concluding that the salvation of each last individual person will in fact become actualized.
Yet the hope that everyone can be saved is permissible and required with respect to any individual person or groups of people with whom we might have influence. We never give up in prayer. We never give up in proclaiming the good news of freedom in Christ. We never give up in participating in God’s mission to rebuild shalom. We never give in to the despairing thought that anyone, anywhere, ever, is outside the scope of God’s love and grace. We never presume to judge who God saves.
This blend of realism — in the end, not everyone will in fact be saved — and hope — I hope that every last person would be saved and I will not presume against God’s grace and love towards anyone — in my judgment is the proper “evangelical” posture. It can become an uncomfortable posture, particularly if, like me, ambiguity makes you uncomfortable. It can also become an uncomfortable posture if, like me, you are painfully aware that you have not participated fully and sacrificially in God’s mission of redemption.
Two basic things are required as a result of this discomfort: greater trust in God and greater commitment to God.
Trust: If I must sadly acknowledge that not everyone will be saved but I am not able to make the judgement about who falls into either category, that means I must leave that judgment to God and trust Him to do what is perfectly and precisely good, loving, just and right. This means leaving to Him all the hard cases, such as my own disabled son, and not presuming to judge exactly who is “in” or “out.” It means giving up the illusion that I, or my church, or my theology, controls God’s judgment. It means that God, and only God, is God.
Commitment: If I must recognize that an essential and fundamental aspect of God’s redemptive action in this world involves the holistic missional work of the Church, and I am blessed to be part of the Church, then I must rededicate myself to that mission, including the sending and preaching of the Gospel into the uttermost parts of the earth. Is this mission what my life really is all about? Or am I really interested in a theology that makes things much easier for me?
This is where I stand — I can do no other.