John 3:19

"Then I saw that wisdom excelleth folly, as much as light excelleth darkness."

He does not say this in the way of comparison. For things which are contrary to each other, and mutually destructive, cannot be compared. But his decision was, that the one is to be chosen, and the other avoided. To like effect is the saying, "Men loved darkness rather than light." For the term "rather" in that passage expresses the choice of the person loving, and not the comparison of the objects themselves.

Those who love darkness instead of the light have no excuse. They did not fail to believe Christ because of their ignorance but because they wanted to do what is evil, which Christ's teaching would not permit. Then, whenever we hear "they could not believe," let us understand this as not referring to the ability of their nature or to their subjugation to someone else but to their own free reason, which enslaved them to dishonorable passions, not wanting to let them revolt from their very base habits. For these know "the light," but do not come to it, in case they might be convicted for their hypocrisy for saying that they know God while denying him by their actions.

What He saith, is of this kind: "they are punished, because they would not leave the darkness, and hasten to the light." And hence He goes on to deprive them of all excuse for the future: "Had I come," saith He, "to punish and to exact account of their deeds, they might have been able to say, 'this is why we started away from thee,' but now I am come to free them from darkness, and to bring them to the light; who then could pity one who will not come from darkness unto light? When they have no charge to bring against us, but have received ten thousand benefits, they start away from us." And this charge He hath brought in another place, where He saith, "They hated Me without a cause": and again, "If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin." For he who in the absence of light sitteth in darkness, may perchance receive pardon; but one who after it is come abides by the darkness, produces against himself a certain proof of a perverse and contentious disposition. Next, because His assertion would seem incredible to most, (for none would prefer "darkness to light,") He adds the cause of such a feeling in them.

And observe how in another way He deprives them of all excuse, when He saith that, "the light came into the world." "Did they seek it themselves," He saith, "did they toil, did they labor to find it? The light itself came to them, and not even so would they hasten to it."

"And this is the judgment, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil." My brethren, whose works does the Lord find to be good? The works of none: He finds the works of all evil. How is it, then, that some have done the truth, and are come to the light? Whose works, in fact, are good? Hast Thou not come to justify the ungodly? "But they loved," saith He, "darkness rather than light." There He laid the emphasis: for many loved their sins; many confessed their sins; and he who confesses his sins, and accuses them, doth now work with God. God accuses thy sins: and if thou also accusest, thou art united to God. There are, as it were, two things, man and sinner. That thou art called man, is God's doing; that thou art called sinner, is man's own doing. Blot out what thou hast done, that God may save what He has done. It behoves thee to hate thine own work in thee, and to love the work of God in thee. And when thy own deeds will begin to displease thee, from that time thy good works begin, as thou findest fault with thy evil works. The confession of evil works is the beginning of good works.

But if God hath discovered all men's works to be evil, how is it that any have done the truth, and come to the light, i. e. to Christ? Now what He saith is, that they loved darkness rather than light; He lays the stress upon that. Many have loved their sins, many have confessed them. God accuseth thy sins; if thou accuse them too, thou art joined to God. Thou must hate thine own work, and love the work of God in thee. The beginning of good works, is the confession of evil works, and then thou doest the truth: not soothing, not flattering thyself. And thou art come to the light, because this very sin in thee, which displeaseth thee, would not displease thee, did not God shine upon thee, and His truth show it unto thee. And let those even who have sinned only by word or thought, or who have only exceeded in things allowable, do the truth, by making confession, and come to the light by performing good works. For little sins, if suffered to accumulate, become mortal. Little drops swell the river: little grains of sand become an heap, which presses and weighs down. The sea coming in by little and little, unless it be pumped out, sinks the vessel. And what is to pump out, but by good works, mourning, fasting, giving and forgiving, to provide against our sins overwhelming us?

He lets not the condemnation of the unbelievers remain without consideration, but recounts its causes, and shows clearly that, according to the words of the Proverbs, Not unjustly is the net spread for the birds. For they, saith He, who when it was in their power to be illuminated preferred to remain in darkness, how will not they fairly be determiners of punishment against themselves, and self-invited to suffering which it was in their power to escape, if they had been right provers of things, choosing rather to be enlightened than not, and studying to make the baser things second to the better? But He preserved the mind of man free from the bonds of necessity, and tending by its own impulses to both sides, that it might justly receive praise for good things, and punishment for the contrary. As indeed He showeth in another place, saying, If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall, eat the good of the land; but if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword.

Jesus says that unbelievers had the opportunity to be illuminated but preferred to remain in darkness. Such people, in fact, by failing to choose enlightenment, determine their own punishment against themselves and provoke their own suffering, which was in their power to escape. God preserved human freedom so that people might justly receive praise for good things and punishment for the contrary. As indeed he shows in another place, saying, "If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land. But if you refuse and rebel, you shall be devoured by the sword."

(in loc. c. 1) He calls Himself the light, whereof the Evangelist speaks, That was the true light; whereas sin He calls darkness.

Here is the reason why men believed not, and why they are justly condemned; This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world.

Here he shows the unbelievers to be deprived of every excuse. "The judgment," he says, "consists in this: that the light came to them, yet they did not hasten toward it." They sinned not only in that they themselves did not seek the light, but, what is worst of all, in that it came to them, and they nevertheless did not accept it. For this reason they are condemned. If the light had not come, people could have appealed to ignorance of the good. But when God the Word came and delivered His teaching in order to enlighten them, and they did not accept it, then they were deprived of every excuse.
Lest anyone should say that no one would prefer darkness to light, he sets forth the reason why men turned to the darkness: "Because," he says, "their deeds were evil." Since Christianity requires not only a right way of thinking but also an honest life, and they desired to wallow in the filth of sin, therefore those who do evil deeds did not wish to come to the light of Christianity and submit to My laws.

Here the Lord explains his statement that unbelievers have an evident cause for their condemnation. First, he sets forth the sign which shows this. Secondly, the fittingness of this sign (v 20).

In the sign he sets forth he does three things. First, he mentions the gift of God. Secondly, the perversity of mind in unbelievers. Thirdly, the cause of this perversity.

So he says: It is abundantly clear that whoever does not believe is already judged, because the light came into the world. For men were in the darkness of ignorance, and God destroyed this darkness by sending a light into the world so that men might know the truth: "I am the light of the world. He who follows me does not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (below 8:12); "To enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death" (Lk 1:78). Now the light came into the world because men could not come to it: for "He dwells in inaccessible light, whom no man has seen or is able to see" (1 Tim 6:16).

It is also clear from the perversity of mind in unbelievers who loved darkness more than the light, i.e., they preferred to remain in the darkness of ignorance rather than be instructed by Christ: "They have rebelled against the light" (Jb 24:13); "Woe to you who substitute darkness for light, and light for darkness" (Is 5:20).

And the cause of this perversity is that their deeds were evil: and such deeds do not conform to the light but seek the darkness: "Let us cast off the works of darkness" (Rom 13:12), i.e., sins, which seek the darkness; "Those who sleep, sleep at night" (1 Thes 5:7); "The eye of the adulterer watches for the darkness," as we read in Job (24:15). Now it is by withdrawing from the light, which is unpleasant to him, that one does not believe the light.

But do all unbelievers produce evil works? It seems not: for many Gentiles have acted with virtue; for example, Cato, and many others. I answer, with Chrysostom, that it is one thing to work by reason of virtue, and another by reason of a natural aptitude or disposition. For some act well because of their natural disposition, because their temperament is not inclined in a contrary way. And even unbelievers can act well in this way. For example, one may live chastely because he is not assailed by concupiscence; and the same for the other virtues. But those who act well by reason of virtue do not depart from virtue, in spite of inclinations to the contrary vice, because of the rightness of their reason and the goodness of their will; and this is proper to believers.

Or, one might answer that although unbelievers may have done good things, they do not do them for love of virtue but out of vainglory. Further, they did not do all things well; for they failed to render to God the worship due him.

Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, "Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good—" At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.

I will approve the thing as well as admire it if he will write another tale just as powerful about two children and Santa Claus. If he will not, or cannot, then the conclusion is clear; we can deal strongly with gloomy mystery, but not with happy mystery; we are not rationalists, but diabolists.

I have thought vaguely of all this staring at a great red fire that stands up in the room like a great red angel. But, perhaps, you have never heard of a red angel. But you have heard of a blue devil. That is exactly what I mean.

Our Lord often speaks of Hell as a sentence inflicted by a tribunal, He also says elsewhere that the judgement consists in the very fact that men prefer darkness to light, and that not He, but His "word", judges men. We are therefore at liberty--since the two conceptions, in the long run, mean the same thing--to think of this bad man's perdition not as a sentence imposed on him but as the mere fact of being what he is. The characteristic of lost souls is "their rejection of everything that is not simply themselves". Our imaginary egoist has tried to turn everything he meets into a province or appendage of the self. The taste for the other, that is, the very capacity for enjoying good, is quenched in him except in so far as his body still draws him into some rudimentary contact with an outer world. Death removes this last contact. He has his wish--to live wholly in the self and to make the best of what he finds there. And what he finds there is Hell.

People often misunderstand what psychology teaches about "repressions". It teaches us that "repressed" sex is dangerous. But "repressed" is here a technical term: it does not mean "suppressed" in the sense of "denied" or "resisted". A repressed desire or thought is one which has been thrust into the subconscious (usually at a very early age) and can now come before the mind only in a disguised and unrecognisable form. Repressed sexuality does not appear to the patient to be sexuality at all. When an adolescent or an adult is engaged in resisting a conscious desire, he is not dealing with a repression nor is he in the least danger of creating a repression. On the contrary, those who are seriously attempting chastity are more conscious, and soon know a great deal more about their own sexuality than anyone else. They come to know their desires as Wellington knew Napoleon, or as Sherlock Holmes knew Moriarty; as a rat-catcher knows rats or a plumber knows about leaky pipes. Virtue—even attempted virtue—brings light; indulgence brings fog.