On Descending Into Hell As a Young Man
A brief return to Dante's Inferno only to find out what a consoling and truly life-changing piece of art it is.
“Consider your origin:
You were not made to live as brutes,
But to follow virtue and knowledge.”
If there were one good contribution of Dan Brown's sensational novels, it would definitely be the curious readers' push to look for the original literary references.
The famous American writer draws from such an immensely rich treasury of Catholic artwork — whether it be textual or visual–and perhaps does it some justice in terms of popularizing it worldwide.
But it still comes with a fair dose of rather impudent and over-the-board stretched teases.
One thing can't be denied, though, in this respect, and that's Brown witty intertextual ability to make modern ideas and problems talk to those stories of old. His rendition of Inferno just proves that the seemingly alarming global “problem” of overpopulation (and mainly the solutions to it) somehow fittingly echoes the grim reality of an underground world justly damned to eternal torment.
Dante Alighieri is one of the very prominent historical figures who gained the grand honor of being known just by their forenames. Jesus, Muhammad, Alexander, Napoleon, or Charlemagne — and let's also add Dante, which immediately rings a bell even to those who've never read anything from the Poet. I belonged to that category just until finally grabbed an old Slovak copy of the most beautiful translation in my mother tongue.
“Oh yes, I believe we went through this piece back at school…”
That might be a generic reaction to Inferno as the most famous part of the legendary Divine Comedy.
But what is it that makes it so important even for young people in 2026?
Why join Dante and Virgil on their gloomy trip down there, where no hope is ever found?
Is there anything truly life-changing that it can bring to a (young) soul?
Actually, the Prime book of the threefold Comedy is deeply encouraging precisely because of its negative theology, unfortunately so despised in our post-conciliar times.
But is there any other way to show the seriousness of sin, the dignity of the human soul, and the necessity of perseverance than by displaying what follows if we take them with contempt and laxity in this life?
At the first read, going through Hell is an incomprehensible experience. I don't usually take up poetry, but this one is rather different from anything I've read before. It's a powerful epic in verse, full of oftentimes inapprehensible cultural and political references.
It's fine medieval social and religious commentary after all. That's why we modern readers need additional commentaries on the commentary itself.
The author himself, as the persona dramatis, descends through the Nine Circles of Hell and sees all the individual sins and their respective punishments. Some are clear to read and understand, and some are not. But all the allegorical-symbolic framework works perfectly in order to beget vivid imagery in the attentive reader's mind.
Apart from all the worldly and formal evaluations, Dante's Inferno is a truly Catholic call to conversion.
Sometimes I simply cannot understand how a person who actively lives a life of prayer, receives the sacraments, and strives for constant communion with Christ… and even reads through the story, could condone grave, mortal sin.
Isn’t this book warning enough? Away with all the secular dismissals that this is just the author’s fan fiction or merely some outdated notion of the Dark Ages.
“Consider your origin:
You were not made to live as brutes,
But to follow virtue and knowledge.” (Canto XXVI)
Dante, as an educated Catholic of his time and place, clearly shows evidence of his honest scholastic formation. Even this line, perhaps one of the most inspiring ones in the entire poem, proves that.
The struggling young man was not created for raging lust, constant impurity (of the mind), coping drunkenness, depressive sloth, endless scrolling, or even boring mediocrity. Man was created in the image of God, called ultimately to a life in sanctifying grace, and destined for Heaven.
And Dante points to this clearly as it pierces him, what just happens when we deliberately miss the mark (literally the Greek meaning of the word sin).
Another note for the youth — we oftentimes become discouraged because we fall repeatedly. But where does Dante start from?
“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.“ (Canto I)
No saint yet, but an ordinary man, lost in the dark wood. And since the story begins this way, it shows that it's not the end. Remaining in this state is.
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The medieval, strictly Catholic worldview was obviously the correct one, and the intensity of the author’s imagination — as evidenced by his emphasis on the authenticity of Christian doctrine and its practical application in the form of eternal damnation — only serves to prove this.
He understands himself as a sinner — and decides to move. Not only a call, but an example of conversion! And his journey begins only because Heaven intervenes, as [through Virgil] rescue comes:
“Love moved me, and makes me speak.” (Canto II)
What a beautiful allegory for an aspect which I'm again and again guilty of forgetting — that the Christian life is not merely a humanly draining effort to reach God.
“Let us therefore love God, because God first hath loved us.” (1 John 4:19, DRB)
It is God's effort to reach you — also by literary showing you, by great art, what is your due if you freely reject this immense offer.
“Turn thyself round, and keep thine eyes close shut, For if the Gorgon appear, and thou shouldst see it, No more returning upward would there be.” (Canto IX)
The importance of having a trustworthy (and trustful) guide on our spiritual journey perhaps couldn't be stressed enough. That's soul point of Virgil accompanying Dante. We need someone by our side who would repeatedly encourage us when we are frightened by what our senses grasp or what we do.
“Thus spake the Master, and himself he swayed
Me round about; nor put he trust in mine
But his own hands upon mine eyelids laid.” (Canto IX)
Dante, in all of his vulnerability, genuinely walks terrified. But he keeps walking and trusts his guide. He continues toward God despite internal fear. And courage could be defined just like that, not a macho absence of angst. Although that false notion is still widespread, where do we get it from, by the way?
Another great point Dante makes regards the good of the intellect. He unapologetically presents it as the man's highest purpose.
“We to the place have come, where I have told thee
Thou shalt behold the people dolorous
Who have foregone the good of intellect.” (Canto III)
Again, the unashamed blow of negative theology. If man is ordered toward truth and ultimately toward God Himself, then every mortal sin, though it promises momentary happiness, delivers infinite slavery. I think we will never achieve real happiness if we voluntarily join the people dolorous who have foregone the good of intellect.
Easy to say as I'm writing this, but the consequences will come, and we should do everything we can to remind ourselves of that! There stands another powerful line as Dante sees the wasted lives of the souls who never truly chose God.
“No fame of them the world permits to be;
Misericord and Justice both disdain them.
Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass.” (Canto III)
Perhaps even the principal echo point that Dan Brown's Inferno reflects is moral neutrality, compromise, and spiritual laziness, which destroy souls.
Not really an actual quote from the book, but a summary interpretation of one of the recurring themes. The point he makes prompts a Catholic (young man) to choose one side completely: Christ or the world.
A dichotomy even Our Lord Himself urged his closest followers and the people He preached to to resolve in themselves.
But what I really love about the book, although unfathomable at times, and also the reason for writing this article, especially for peers in my age struggling with habitual sins while pursuing a life in Christ, is the strangely relieving end line.
After all the horrors of Hell, both Dante as the scholar and Virgil as the companion-guide emerge from the weary darkness.
“And thence we came forth to see again the stars.” (Canto XXXIV)
The most consoling line of the book?
We see that Dante does not end in Hell, although he had been thoroughly exposed to it in all it's uglyness and varied, horrifying justice. He comes out and continues to the next place — the Purgatory.
So no matter how long a person is trapped in mortal sin, impurity, addiction, or even Satan's favorite trick, despair, the author's pure Catholic message manifests that through confession, prayer, penance, and perseverance, most importantly, he can once again see the stars.
This terrifying journey through the dreadful funnel of the devil’s realm has left a deep impression on my soul. And I firmly believe I won’t be the only one for whom it will help improve and strengthen an authentic, youthful Catholic life.
I’m already looking forward to climbing Mount Purgatory. We all need it, I believe. But perhaps a word of consolation at the end: we'll climb together and–hopefully as Dante–make it to the salutary end.
