Some years ago when I was doing a course in London, I got involved in a small way in the work of the Simon Community. We would meet in the night shelter around eleven o'clock to prepare soup and sandwiches. On the stroke of twelve, we would take these and go in search of poor unfortunates who, for one reason or another, did not want to come to the shelter. They spent their nights mostly in derelict buildings.

The most important aid we took with us was a torch. Without this we would be lost, for there was no light in the haunts and hovels of the winos and meths-drinkers. When you opened a door you never knew what to expect. Perhaps the room was empty, perhaps not. But there were two main reactions to the light when you honed it into a room where some of these people were gathered.

Some knew at once that we are from Simon, and they welcomed us as friends. To them the light meant hot soup, food, and friendly chat. It meant goodbye, at least for a while, to darkness and loneliness. Some of them would cling to us so that it was often difficult to get away from them.

But others did not want to know us. As soon as the light shone into the room where they were, they shouted at us to switch it off. Light was the last thing they wanted. They were fearful and suspicious, as they were on the run from the police. Generally, they refused our offer of soup and food, and told us to clear off in no uncertain terms.

There were those then who welcomed us and our offer of help, and those who refused to have anything to do with us. You could tell at once which group you were dealing with by their reaction to the light. Thought the last thing we intended was to judge them, yet in a sense the light did judge them. Confronted with the light they gave themselves away. The light revealed where they stood.

That's what St. John in his Gospel said about the coming of Christ. Christ came into the world as an envoy of the Father's love and mercy. He did not come to judge people but to save them- "to seek out and to save the lost," as he put it himself. He came bearing a light-the light of truth, goodness, love. . . Love comes more naturally with two basic reactions to his light.

There were those who longed for his light and who welcomed it with generosity and enthusiasm. These were the people who believed in him and who came to him. The Gospel is full of examples. Surprisingly, it was people who were living in darkness who welcomed him most warmly. Think of the tax collectors and sinners with whom he shared himself.

But others rejected him. His light was a threat to them. It was not only really evil people who didn't want to know him, but people who considered themselves holy, such as the Pharisees. His light proved a threat to these. It showed up the darkness of their pretence, self-righteousness and pride.

As for us: in a real way light and darkness (good and evil) are fighting for possession of our souls. We are divided within ourselves. There is darkness in each of us-the darkness of pride, selfishness, lust, anger . . . Evil exercises a hold over us. It has a certain fascination for us. We must not be afraid to confront the darkness within us. We must let the light of Christ shine into it and scatter it.

But there is goodness in us, too. We are also attracted to the light-the light of truth, goodness, love . . .Love comes more naturally to us than hate. We should trust this goodness and try to follow it. The light of Christ will help us to do so.

But perhaps the greatest danger facing us is that we might settle for some in-between state-a kind of twilight existence. Twilight has a certain attractiveness about it. It is a world of blurred edges. It guarantees us anonymity, while at the same time, providing us with enough light to see.

In practice this means that we would try to have the best of both worlds. We would have a foot in either camp. We never decisively declare for the light. We never totally opt for the dark, but we do dabble in it. What are we left with? A mediocre person. Neither a great saint nor a great sinner. A person incapable of either great cowardice or great courage. Those who are in darkness may one day see the light and welcome it. But the twilighters? We can teach them the glory of the light?

At some stage in our following of Christ we must opt to follow his light fully and generously. If we do, we will find that our lives will be lit up by his grace, peace, love, and freedom. As a friend of mine who made such an option said: "The darkness lifted from my life."

The Church's teaching on hell is twofold: it exists and we cannot say for certain if there's anyone in hell. During his public ministry, Jesus was very clear about the existence of hell (see Mark 9:43-48, Matthew 25:31-46). Jesus spoke about hell to warn people about the terrible consequences of rejecting him and his message. Hell is eternal life without God, which Jesus says is like living in an "unquenchable fire" (Mark 9:43).

Hell is not so much God punishing unbelievers and bad people, hell is the consequence of choosing to knowingly and deliberately live one's life without any reference to God. It is the deliberate choice to reject Jesus and his message, even though we know Jesus comes from God. In today's Gospel, we heard these words:

The great international statesman and Christian, Dag Hammarskjold, once said:

In our second reading today, Paul tells us that we are God's work of art. In other words, we are not a mistake. We are created in God's image and likeness. Before there was Original Sin, there was Original Goodness. As the Marriage Encounter people say, "God doesn't make junk." The challenge for all of us is to believe in our hearts that we are as good as Paul tells us. How do we do this? I do not have any clear cut technique. Perhaps when negative voices rise up within us we can counteract them with the wonderful affirmation given to us by Paul: We are God's Work of Art.