In the novel Rabbit, Run, John Updike has one of his characters, a groovy and progressive 1960s priest, calling round to talk to his fellow minister, a hard German Lutheran, about the secret doubts he harbours about his faith. Is the doctrine really necessary? Is hell just, you know, a metaphor? He likes Jesus. But maybe he also likes sinful things, like sex and recklessly open attacking football.
The hard German Lutheran takes one look, curls his lip and tells the groovy progressive priest to get down on his knees in the kitchen and beg for forgiveness. Who is he to reason with divine suffering? Life is pain. Joy is pain. Pain is pain. Frankly, the groovy priest who likes flying full-backs and an open midfield disgusts him. He will burn in hell for his spineless debauchery. The groovy priest leaves in tears.
