Throughout Paradiso, theology is always personal. Dante often wants to know, for instance, why a certain person, or group of people, has been given a particular fate. As Dante’s understanding develops, he comes to believe that such circumstances reflect God’s will, and in turn, God’s will must be expressive of God’s character. In other words, although events on earth and in Heaven are often difficult for humans to grasp, these events are ultimately reflective of God’s will, and so people must consequently trust that such events are reflective of God’s goodness. In the poem, Dante considers events that are confusing or inscrutable for humans but nevertheless convey God’s good character (the key example being the atoning death of Christ). Through these examples, Dante suggests that people must first understand God’s deep love for humanity in order to then discern and accept his will.
Through conversations with souls, Dante learns that peace consists of accepting God’s loving will, even when a person’s fate might look less than ideal from a limited earthly standpoint. A soul named Piccarda, who is assigned to one of the lower heavenly spheres, explains to Dante that she and her fellow souls “in will are brought to rest / by power of [love] that makes us will / no more than what we have, nor thirst for more. / Were our desire to be more highly placed, / all our desires would then be out of tune / with His.” Now that they’re in Heaven, the souls are in harmony with God’s will and can desire nothing other than what God gives them. It would make no sense for a soul like Piccarda to desire a higher spot in Heaven, because that would go against God’s will for her.
Later, Dante meets a soul named Folco, a poet who dwells in the sphere of Venus because in life he displayed excessive romantic ardor that dulled his love for God. Folco explains to Dante how God’s will comes to transform even this sinful tendency: “Yet here we don’t repent such things. […] / In wonder, we here prize the art to which / His power brings beauty, and discern the good / through which the world above turns all below.” Folco means that blessed souls don’t waste time regretting the sins that affected their heavenly placement. Rather, they focus on how God transformed their earthly sins in such a way that they now enjoy heavenly bliss in ways that individually suit and elevate their particular human natures.
Aspects of God’s will—especially regarding damnation—remain hidden to human understanding but must be considered against the backdrop of God’s fundamental justice, which is an aspect of his goodness. In Heaven, the souls of the just rulers form the sign of a huge eagle in the sky, which addresses Dante with a single voice. Dante struggles to understand how a soul in some distant region of the Earth, who has no opportunity to learn of Christianity, can rightfully be consigned to Hell for this lack. The voice of the just does not directly answer Dante’s question about those who die unbaptized or unconverted. It does, however, explain how there are some Christians who will not be admitted to Heaven because of their hypocrisy: “many cry out: ‘Christ!’ […] / Yet many will, come Judgement, be to Him / less [near] than are those who don’t know Christ. […] What will the [non-Christians] say about your kings” when they hear of their wickedness? God is the source and measure of all justice, which humans can’t fully penetrate with their limited understanding. In addition, the idea of the virtuous unbeliever is not more pressing than the problem of the professed Christian who doesn’t live according to their faith. Indeed, Dante suggests that the latter faces a harsher fate in Hell than mere unbelievers do. These questions must be subordinated, therefore, to trust in God’s just character.
The mystery of the atonement (Jesus sacrificing himself to make up for humankind’s sins) provides the greatest demonstration of God’s goodness, and how it’s essential for a person to understand God’s goodness to then interpret his will: “until it pleased [God’s Word] to descend / to where our nature, long abandoning / its maker, was made one, as person, with Him, / by action solely of eternal love.” In other words, the divine Word (Christ) united himself, out of love, to human nature, even though humanity had willfully rejected God’s love. When Dante asks Beatrice why God chose this means of redemption, she replies that this truth is mysterious, but what is clear is that “The generosity of God which scorns / all spite and meanness burns within itself, / yet, flaring out, unfolds eternal beauties.” In other words, the answer, though inscrutable, lies in the overflowing generosity and beauty of God’s own nature. Human beings can only discover the meaning of God’s will by increasingly coming to acknowledge and worship his goodness, beauty, and love.
At the very end of Paradiso, Dante’s vision is complete when his will is united to God’s: “All powers of high imagining here failed. / But now my will and my desire were turned, / […] by love that moves the sun and other stars.” In this way, Dante comes full circle to share Piccarda’s attitude as expressed early in the poem. His powers as poet fall silent before the immense mystery of God, and yet his will’s union with God’s, propelled by God’s love, satisfies his desires. He may not understand the mystery fully, yet he cannot will anything other than what God wills—trusting that it will ultimately be good.
Related Themes from Other Texts
God’s Character and Will ThemeTracker
God’s Character and Will Quotes in Paradiso
Glory, from Him who moves all things that are,
penetrates the universe and then shines back,
reflected more in one part, less elsewhere.
High in that sphere which takes from Him most light
I was – I was! – and saw things there that no one
who descends knows how or ever can repeat.
For, drawing near to what it most desires,
our intellect so sinks into the deep
no memory can follow it that far.
‘Dear brother, we in will are brought to rest
by power of caritas that makes us will
no more than what we have, nor thirst for more.
Were our desire to be more highly placed,
all our desires would then be out of tune
with His, who knows and wills where we should be. […]
In formal terms, our being in beatitude
entails in-holding to the will of God,
our own wills thus made one with the divine.’
Between the last great night and first of days
there’s never been nor shall be, either way,
a process soaring, so magnificent.
For God, in giving of Himself to make
humanity sufficient to restore itself,
gave more than, granting pardon, He’d have done.
All other means, in justice, would have come
far short, had not the very Son of God
bowed humbly down to take on human flesh.
But see this: many cry out: “Christ! Christ! Christ!”
Yet many will, come Judgement, be to Him
less [close] than are those who don’t know Christ.
And Christians such as these the Ethiopian
will damn when souls divide between two schools,
some to eternal riches, some to dearth.
What will the Persians say about your kings,
when once they see that ledger opened up
in which is written all their praiseless doings.
‘And so you mortals, in your judgements show
restraint. For even we who look on God
do not yet know who all the chosen are.
Yet this deficiency for us is sweet.
For in this good our own good finds its goal,
that what God wills we likewise seek in will.’
So from that sacred sign was given me,
to bring to my short sight new clarity,
a gentle draught of soothing medicine.
My being, and the being of the world,
the death that He sustained so I might live,
the hope that all, with me, confess in faith,
the living knowledge I have spoken of –
all drew me from the waves of wrongful love
and set me on the shores of righteousness.
And every leaf, en-leafing all the grove
of our eternal orchardist,
I love as far as love is borne to them from Him.
The order in the natural spheres that stills
the central point and moves, round that, all else,
here sets its confine and begins its rule.
This primal sphere has no “where” other than
the mind of God. The love that makes it turn
is kindled there, so, too, the powers it rains.
Brightness and love contain it in one ring,
as this, in turn, contains the spheres below.
And only He who binds it knows the bond.
Grace, in all plenitude, you dared me set
my seeing eyes on that eternal light
so that all seeing there achieved its end.
Within in its depths, this light, I saw, contained,
bound up and gathered in a single book,
the leaves that scatter through the universe –
beings and accidents and modes of life,
as though blown all together in a way
that what I say is just a simple light.
