We read in Ecclesiasticus 15:11-15:
Do not say, "The Lord is to blame for my failure"; it is for you to avoid doing what he hates. Do not say, "It is he who has led me astray"; he has no use for sinful men. The Lord hates every kind of vice; you cannot do it and still fear him. When he made man in the beginning, he left him to take his own decision; if you choose, you can keep the commandments; whether or not you keep faith is yours to decide.
He goes on, in the manner of Deuteronomy 30:15-20, to remind us that God has set before us fire and water, and it is we who have to choose; before man lie life and death, and whatever he prefers is his. But above this free choice God sees everything and watches over those who fear him. In the letter of St James which is, to a certain extent, a New Testament follow-up of Ecclesiasticus, we are reminded once more that God does not tempt us, for he is untouched by evil and does not himself tempt anyone. He goes on to observe that temptation comes when a man is enticed and lured away by his own lust; the lust conceives, and give birth to sin; and sin full-grown breeds death (1:13-15). Certainly it may be true that God does not directly tempt us, but he does seem to allow the dark forces to attack us, perhaps to test and build up our spiritual capacity - the story of Satan's attack on Job's welfare is a classical development of this theme.
So the Bible certainly affirms our God-given free will, but also points to the tragic weakness in character we all, to a greater or lesser extent, seem to inherit. Contemporary schools of social and psycho-dynamic thought tend to dismiss any idea of effective free will, so enslaved, so they would have us believe, is the human to vast, impersonal economic forces on the one hand and to psychological conditioning, both personal and communal, on the other. That the human has an inborn capacity to sin is inferred in Psalm 51:5, "In iniquity I was brought to birth and my mother conceived me in sin". St Paul develops this theme of "original sin" in Romans 5:12-21, demonstrating how the primal sin of Adam, inherited by all subsequent generations, has been annulled by the sacrificial death of Jesus, which has initiated a new dispensation. Nevertheless, we are bound to acknowledge, in all due realism, that the full manifestation of this new dispensation is still far away: in the words of Paul already quoted, "We have been saved, though only in hope" (Romans 8:24). The great act of salvation may have already taken place on a cosmic plane, as Paul indicates in the letters to the Colossians and Ephesians - if indeed the latter is a completely Pauline work - but it may also be that this act will be made manifest in our world only with the Second Coming. All the great religions eagerly await this, even if they each use a different name for the universal saviour whom the Christian sees in Jesus.
It is interesting to follow up this speculation with Paul's views in the ninth chapter of his letter to the Romans. It broaches the vexing question of personal responsibility for sin in the face of divine omnipotence, but can only go so far as to assert God's power of free choice in deciding whom he accepts and whom he rejects - the election of Jacob over his older twin Esau is a case in point, as is also the story of Cain and Abel. But why was Esau intellectually and spiritually inferior to Jacob, and why was Cain of violent temperament as compared with the poignant innocence of his brother Abel? St Paul can offer no rational answer to this dilemma of apparently arbitrary predestination; he simply says we are not entitled to interrogate God, in the same way as the pot cannot hold the potter to account if it is misshapen. One cannot deny the disappointment one feels at this summary closure of the debate just when the argument was becoming really interesting, even if Paul does soften matters by stressing the divine patience and mercy: God tolerates the vessels which are objects of retribution due for destruction in order to make known the full wealth of his splendour upon vessels which were objects of mercy, and which from the first had been prepared for this splendour (vv. 23-24). When he translates this analogy to the young Christian community, the vessels due for divine splendour are the congregation of Jewish and Gentile converts, whereas the majority of Jews who refuse to accept Jesus as Christ are rejected and relegated to a back position until the event of their conversion, which, as he writes later with great sadness tinged with delicate hope, is unlikely to take place for a long time. "But if their offence means the enrichment of the world, and if their falling-off means the enrichment of the Gentiles, how much more their coming to full strength!" (Romans 11:12). One might add with the touch of irony born of twenty centuries of Christian witness, that most practising Christians through the ages were quite as far from the spirit of their Saviour as were the Jews who continued to deny his sovereignty. Fortunately this sad travesty of true Christianity has been constantly redeemed by the witness of the few saints present in every generation of Christians - and of Jews also, for Christ far transcends parties and denominations.
And so we have the paradox of God's gift of free will dispersed among a population who are largely incapable of using it effectively. Like the hundred and twenty thousand of Jonah's Nineveh, they cannot tell their right hand from their left. Like the crowds at the Crucifixion event, they look on in malicious curiosity, while Jesus calls on his Father to forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. They are so unformed as individuals that they can be led astray by any vociferous demagogue who plays on their baser emotions or any event that does not fulfil their expectations. One does indeed wonder whether free will is an illusion until one remembers the many quiet, decent members of society who go about their business with honesty and charity, despite the temptation to take a devious shortcut to prosperity. Their crown is the glorious company of saints already referred to, but in its wider context the word should include the members of a worshipping community, all going about their own business for the greater good of the whole. This should extend ultimately to mankind in general as well as the person's local group. There is, in other words, a wide spectrum of humanity, ranging from the many who seem barely to have graduated from their animal ancestry to a progressively smaller number who have explored the spiritual world and are the pioneers of a new style of life, one that is no longer carnally orientated but has learnt to discipline the flesh for the benefit of the wider community. When we consider the starving millions who inhabit many of the undeveloped countries of the world, it seems evident that a vast human population has no effective hope at all of any mental, let alone spiritual, growth in this life. But even in this mass of degraded humanity there is not infrequently a dignified spirituality that may indeed be nearer the truth than the worldly-wise agnosticism of many of the prosperous members of the affluent western nations. We judge by appearances, but God looks into the heart, as Samuel was told in the matter of the anointing of the shepherd David. In the work of counselling and the ministry of healing one never ceases to be amazed at the courage and faith of people who have come from the most terrible backgrounds and have won through by sheer faith and hard work. On the other hand, not a few of the opulent members of the developed countries are slaves to drugs, drink, sex or the occult scene, that effectively preclude any intellectual or spiritual development to full personality. Only when they have asserted their free will, clouded but never defunct, to resist the temptation to this terrible thraldom, can there be genuine spiritual growth.
But can an addicted or indoctrinated person muster the inner strength to make this final break with old ways of thought, to renounce evil and start the movement back to sanity, health and God? There can be glib affirmations about the power of Christ, but this power cannot act until the person is prepared to play his part. The contest between Augustine and Pelagius - concerning the relative efficacy of divine grace and the human will to change - may have been decided officially in favour of St Augustine's insistence on the powerlessness of man and his absolute dependence on God's grace, but in fact there has also to be an initial receptivity of the person to God's grace. This is the essence of human free will. In other words, we can either accept the love of God or else reject it, whether through indifference, pride or malice. And until we repent of our hard heartedness we stay as we are. God himself, whose nature is love, cannot force himself on us without abrogating the kind of relationship he has ordained, one that has been in action since the time of creation. God is courteous, as Julian of Norwich was shown in her Revelations of Divine Love: he respects the privacy of the beloved and does not force himself on any of his rational creatures, whom he has endowed with freedom of choice. This is the full measure of love: to grant freedom to the beloved to go his own way, even when it is obvious that only disaster lies ahead of him, but to remember him constantly in prayer and to be ready to receive him back home again without recrimination when he comes to himself and repents of his folly. And then the beloved, typified by the Prodigal Son in the famous parable, is amazed at the warmth that enfolds him. Such love is divine in power, and it initiates a new relationship between the person and God and also between him and his fellow creatures. Love knows no judgement; this it leaves to the beloved when he returns to his right frame of mind. In the end even the most terrible human condemnation falls away in the face of human love, which, in turn, is but a pale reflection of divine love. We love because God loved us first (1 John 4:19).
It is evident that only the few are fully responsive to God's love; they are humble and open to the unceasing wonder of life, which is taken for granted by most of us in bored ingratitude. "How blest are those whose hearts are pure; they shall see God" (Matthew 5:8). On the whole, children are more open to the divine presence because their minds are innocent, free of preconceptions and therefore unclouded in perception. Theirs is a world of simplicity, for their wants are elementary and easily satisfied by those who care for them. True simplicity has a purity that is absolutely necessary for the vision of God. But nevertheless it is our common lot to enter the shuddering maelstrom of adult working life before that purity can be convincingly tested. It is one thing to be a delightful child around whom one's little world revolves, but quite another to retain that simplicity of life style and purity of heart in the daily struggle of competitive existence. It is hard not to fall into sin, which is seen most practically as the tendency to exalt one's own needs and desires above those of other people, to their ultimate detriment. The end of this tendency is a progressive depreciation of all those outside the sinner's intimate circle - which finally narrows down to one person only, and he is left with neither human friend nor divine intimacy. The wage of sin is indeed death (Romans 6:23), for it progressively shuts one off from the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit. And so one slides imperceptibly into a darkness peopled by regrets rather than human company. But death itself can be the harbinger of a new life, as the Prodigal Son was to discover; by comparison, his formally correct brother was as far from that life at his return as when the young man had left home and wasted all his resources in the irresponsible behaviour that was to end in the death of his old self. From this example we can begin to see the way of growth from the bored unawareness of the man in the street to the intimate relationship with God which I believe we are all meant to share. And so darkness can bring us closer to the divine light than the glitter of material success coveted by the unaware multitudes.
But let us beware of sneering at material success - this is done most effectively by people who have failed to attain it, whether professionally or financially! To do well in life is preferable to the reproach of never having made a go of anything. The ultimate spiritual value of material success is, paradoxically, the experience of renunciation that is entailed as the person retires from work and gradually fades into darkening oblivion; his body becomes decrepit, as does apparently his reputation also, for new lights appear in the worldly firmament that seem to outshine anything he may have achieved in his own day. By contrast, the life of one who has continually failed to achieve anything proceeds, and is snuffed out, not so much with a bang as a whimper, as T. S. Eliot expresses it so movingly at the end of The Hollow Men. But there is hope also for the unsuccessful person, provided he does his best in the face of discouragement, refuses to lapse into bitterness, blaming other people or circumstances for his failures, and counts his many blessings in the face of the tragedies of the world around him, which in our era of mass communication includes the wretched of the whole earth. The same approach applies to those who are so physically or mentally ill that there seems to be no future for them in the world of affairs. Whereas chronic disease of the body evokes immediate sympathetic concern, mental trouble usually tends to repel most bystanders, since the victim often does not communicate in an acceptable way and arouses irritation rather than compassion. But to have come through a mental illness is a great achievement, for now one can communicate with a large range of people in a way that the normal, unafflicted individual could not even begin to fathom. This is in fact merely a variation of the theme of the enlightened Prodigal Son who has learnt to receive, and therefore to give, love, while the inexperienced brother remains cold and aloof.
We are left with the conundrum of human beings endued with free will and almost certain to take the wrong turning. The Prodigal Son did come to himself in destitution; but many more never seem to arrive. The sacred history of the Jews as recorded in the Old Testament is a heartrending illustration of this theme. From the time of the exodus from Egypt to the Babylonian exile about six hundred and fifty years later, there is the recurrent event of, apostasy, defeat, suffering, prayer to God for forgiveness, the appearance of a new champion (whether judge, king or prophet), victory, relaxation and further apostasy. The prophets exhort the people to righteousness, but they respond too little and too late. The ministry of Jeremiah is the outstanding illustration of this trend. He started his work during the closing years of Josiah, one of the three beneficial kings of Judah (David and Hezekiah were the other two), and continued during the reign of disastrously wicked rulers who led the people increasingly astray. The first part of Jeremiad's prophecy is one of threats of national disaster if the people do not repent; however, there comes the watershed after which national destruction by the Babylonians is inevitable, and the prophet urges the rulers to capitulate before the Holy City and its temple are razed to the ground. Of course, such a prophecy immediately tars Jeremiah with the brush of a traitor, and he suffers accordingly. In the end his prophecy is fulfilled almost to the letter. In the account we see the relative balance of free will and predestination. Since the will of the people and the later kings was paralysed, ruin was inevitable. However, had Jeremiah's prophecy been heeded early on, events might have taken a different course. The story of Jonah and the conversion of the people of Nineveh indicates the possibility of a change in events even at a late hour, provided there is genuine repentance and a firm will to amend the national life style. Alas, the Book of Jonah is merely inspired fiction, whereas that of Jeremiah is historical! Admittedly the prophet Micah, who lived a century before Jeremiah, had shocked the inhabitants of Jerusalem with a similar type of prophecy, and they were saved from the destructive Assyrian army, but their will to change was, as usual, short-lived, and they soon lapsed into idolatry again.
And so we read the despairing rhetorical question of Jeremiah 13:23, "Can the Nubian change his skin or the leopard his spots?" The passage goes on to ask whether the people of Israel can do good, they who are schooled in evil. This fearful passage ends with terrible threats of punishment for the adulterous people, some of which had already taken place. It is a perennial problem of human nature, whether we can change ourselves to any significant extent. In the question posed above, the answer is clearly in the negative. Christ himself teaches that the most anxious thought cannot add a foot to one's height (Matthew 6:27). It is evident that our basic temperament is innate, and we have to make the most of it. But our character, seen in terms of moral strength and spiritual aspiration, is something that we develop with the passage of years. The artistic temperament, for instance, may be associated with gross moral irresponsibility or it may be the basis of inspiration to the whole world. Our personality is integrated as we learn to recognize, accept and use the various gifts, defects and accomplishments with which we have been endowed, and at the end of our mortal life we, like the crucified Christ, may say. "It is accomplished", and "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit". It is important to see even our defects in this creative light: once again the returned Prodigal Son is our paradigm.
But all this pertains to essentially healthy people. What are we to say about those who are born so mentally defective that a normal working life is denied them? On the other side of the coin there is the tragic deterioration in mental function that attends progressive brain disease, especially in the elderly. To see a formerly esteemed member of the community, with a vivid appreciation of life, gradually sinking into a vegetable state of torpor, scarcely able to react to any outside stimulus, and certainly unresponsive to the love of those closest to him, is a tragedy beyond description. What has happened to the personality? Indeed, who is the person sitting inertly before us? Are we, after all, merely bodily machines controlled by a master organ, the brain, and driven passively by any circumstance that impinges upon our basic needs of survival, procreation and comfort? It is certain that various authorities have their own views about the mind-brain relationship and the possible survival of the personality beyond bodily death, but no statement is more than an individual opinion, and in the end we lesser mortals have to fashion our own system of belief based on our personal experiences and modified by the findings of contemporary science. The freedom to acknowledge this agnosticism is an enormous relief, for now we are able to make our own journeys and be open to what life is telling us as we proceed a day at a time. The various religious systems have come into being as the result of spiritual geniuses formulating their insights into a coherent philosophy that can guide their fellows into a more satisfactory way of life and help them to develop into more fully actualized individuals. But none has the complete truth; this pertains to God alone, in whom only can our questions find an answer. In this life the answer can be only tentative because so much of the background of personal experience remains hidden.
The experience of a higher power comes unheralded, often when we least expect it and frequently when we are at a particularly low ebb. Suddenly a light appears in our mental horizon and we can, in a flash, see what was previously incomprehensible. It fills us with hope sufficient to continue the long trail, and as we proceed, more is revealed so that life itself takes on a new radiance. But is this experience an illusion, a mere will-o'-the-wisp that peters out as it leads us astray? We can never be certain, but one thing is clear: it has altered the tenor of our life so that relationships with others become easier and our own creativeness is enhanced. The ultimate criterion is that of Jesus, "You will recognize them by the fruits they bear" (Matthew 7:16). It is in the spirit of this guidance that faith is monitored by common sense, and the will to proceed forwards drives us relentlessly on the path of life. The harvest of the divine spirit in human life is specified in Galatians 5:22: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fidelity, gentleness and self-control. Even a slight movement in their direction must be the right one. This is the basis of a living faith in the face of the darkness that so often encompasses us in the cut and thrust of mortal existence.
And so perhaps we may come to some slight resolution of the problem of human free will and divine predestination. If God is love and he cherishes everything he has made, it seems not unreasonable to believe that the destiny he wills for all his creatures is development, transfiguration and eternal life in his glory. The apparent hopelessness of the present situation, the evil that surrounds us, and the pain we all have to bear during this transient life on earth, are part of a much greater vision of reality. But we, as the rational creatures of our little world, are given the immense privilege of, working with God to the fulfilment of his will. If we fall into sin, we regress to the process of decay that typifies the creation in its naked form; if we live a life of love made manifest in service to others, we begin to move beyond the destruction in store for all living things, and play our part in redeeming these also from the prison of death. The theme of the eighth chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans amplifies this, as we have already noted. Therefore the more animal-like our style of living, the more we follow the animals to the dust of the earth, which is our common mortal destiny. But as we move to a truly human aspiration, so we begin to play our part in the healing of the world, and our own end comes to show something of the glory of the crucified Christ. To be sure, our mortal bodies, unlike that of Jesus, are destined for the common grave of the earth's soil, in company with all our animal brethren, but something of our presence continues in a life beyond common death, where perhaps we may continue our work of loving service to the glory of God, the end being the resurrection of the whole world. But this far-off event to which the whole creation moves is beyond our simple comprehension, and the wise person keeps his counsel in awe and reverence.
The older one gets, the more evident does it become how the general pattern of one's life has been pre-ordained. Indeed, we are all so much parts of the body of mankind that we seem to have been specially endowed with a unique personality with which to serve the whole. But what really matters in the final reckoning is whether we have played our part well, or have, like the stupid servant in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30), wasted our time by burying our gift in a life of selfish indulgence on the one hand or simple apathy and inaction born of unawareness on the other. As we grow into authentic people, so we can, by our enlightened will, make our contribution to the world's destiny. And then our will can work in harmony with the will of God for the redemption of the world from the law of death to the vision of eternal life. This is the glorious destiny in store for us, the vision of eternity. But it is not accomplished by elevating thoughts and good will alone, important as these are in sustaining us in our travail day by day. What is required is the courage to travel the path that leads to God, and to bring the world's darkness with us. The prize is a will free from all concerns other than the service of God. In this service alone is the darkness lightened and purpose revealed, as much as we can grasp in our present state of development.
The less developed the person, the more is he the plaything of impersonal forces, and so he is the prisoner of predestination. The more he grows through experience in mind and spirit, the more can he cope with predestined factors as his free will starts a fresh chapter in the world's progress and evolution to spiritual reality. But, exalting as this prospect of spiritual growth may be, we are left with the problem of the many who remain undeveloped. Is their mental and psychological impotence predestined by a capricious God who has decreed their destruction, or are they too worthy of salvation? If the latter is the case - as I devoutly hope it to be - we are bound to posit an existence of the essential personality in the unknown realms beyond physical death, where the present sinful life may be amended by future adventures in the constant light of God's love. But, as we have already seen, the impetus must arise from the creature, in whatever form he may assume in the life beyond death.