“Vitam venturi saeculi”.
These are the final words of the Confiteor, the confession of faith recited by Christians in Latin for the better part of two millennia. They are the closing phrase of the Nicene Creed now expressed in the local vernacular at every Sunday Mass around the world. In English, of course, the translation refers to the expectation of ‘the life in the world to come’.
Belief in ‘the hereafter’ is not unique to, and did not begin with, Christianity. However, for much of the span of what has been called western civilization it has been a bedrock principle of significant consequence. Whether with anticipation or resignation, hope or fear, we Christians have acknowledged – confessed – our belief in eternal life. Nevertheless, one might wonder if now, twenty centuries after the gates of Paradise were opened for us, we have the same respect our ancestors had for the fate that awaits us all.
Certainly, life on earth is more pleasant, or at least more bearable, than that experienced by the millions preceding us in history. Today ‘heaven on earth’ is more than a song lyric. It is for many a real, if not ill-conceived, aspiration. The existence of today’s allurements and distractions, coupled with the relatively less laborious demands of survival, understandably diminish the attention we might otherwise pay the afterlife and cajole us into believing we can create Paradise here and now.
When reference is made to life after death more often than not it is in sentimental, even saccharine, terms. The days of fire and brimstone evangelizing are long gone, but shouldn’t there be a sober catechesis on the Four Last Things? These traditional beliefs in Christian eschatology seem as relevant today as Greek mythology. Where is judgment at death? Where the cleansing of Purgatory, the eternal fulfillment heaven, the alienation of hell?
There’s irony here. This cavalier regard for our final destiny suggests that we are satisfied with incompletion, with something less than the ‘telos”, the end, for which we are created. As St. Paul puts it, we’re content now seeing through a glass dimly what later we are intended fully to apprehend. But are we content? Perhaps this is the question.
An interesting thesis would be the degree to which, if any, mankind’s concern for the ‘vitam venturi saeculi’ has affected – and effected – the edifying forces of morality, peace and justice. Put elsewise, has our disregard in this matter contributed to the pervading malaise which drives so many of us into deeper, addictive distractions? An interesting question.
The beginning of wisdom is fear of the Lord.
Dana P. Robinson is board of trustees chairman for the National Catholic Community Foundation.
