I distinctly remember the first time I tried to explain Purgatory to a pair of evangelicals that challenged me on the subject. We’d been discussing theology for more than two hours. They hit me with everything he had and I fielded most of their objections fairly well, though in a rudimentary way and rather unconvincing way. (This was shortly after I converted, at a point when I thought I knew what I was talking about, but really had only a hint of the depth of the faith.) I was tired and had to get on with other things – it was a slow work day, but getting busier. When they got to Purgatory, I thought for a few seconds before answering. I wanted to come up with a single sentence to sum it all up and be done. What I said was fast and simple, but it was also doctrinally in error. I screwed up.
It was one of those defining moments in my life as a hobby-apologist. I knew from their faces that it was over. They shut down entirely, closing me off as the heretic that I had just inadvertently proclaimed myself to be. I knew that I could never explain away what slipped past my lips. I could never recapture the truth. It was lost on them now, and would be forever – their minds were made up. All was done in the blink of a weary eye.
Purgatory is often one of the most divisive of issues between Catholics and Protestants – especially evangelical Protestants. In reality, it doesn’t have to be divisive at all. It just needs to be properly understood, both doctrinally and scripturally.
As I said in a previous post, to a Catholic, not all sin is equally damning. This idea is supported by I John 5:17: “Not all sin is deadly.” Unrepented mortal sin condemns – of that there is no doubt. It drains the soul of the Sanctifying Grace necessary to survive in Heaven. But what about unrepented venial sin, or mortal sins that weren’t confessed fully or with incomplete contrition?
At this point, we have to stop briefly and set one permanent ground rule for this discussion. We have to keep Revelation 21:27 firmly in mind. Where Heaven is concerned, “There shall not enter into it any thing defiled…” or in a more modern turn of phrase, “Nothing unclean shall enter into Heaven.” Catholics take this concept seriously. Every soul that enters Heaven will be as spotless and pure as it was when God created it in the first place. I’ll take a big gamble, and say that not every soul that leaves this life is spotless. But do all those slightly tarnished souls go to Hell?
Let’s let Frank Sheed have a go at it from here. At the moment of death…
”…we may really love God and try hard to serve him. Yet we are conscious of venial sins, committed in the past and not repented, the weakness which causes us to yield to them still present in us; we are conscious also, if we really think about it, of mortal sins repented yet not with the intensity that their foulness calls for; we feel that there are tendencies unconquered in us that could lead again, as so often in the past, to mortal sin. We make continuing efforts at improvement, but can hardly convince ourselves that we have tried our hardest. The state I have described is that in which a great many people live. The possibility is that in that state many will be found by death.“We may well believe that there are special aids at death. The prayers of other can bring actual graces. The Anointing of the Sick can cleanse us wholly – yet even that sacrament we can keep from complete fullness by some defect in the disposition with which we receive it. We may leave this life loving God, yet not be perfect, not undefiled.
…
“How are the defects of nature removed in Purgatory? By direct action upon them, the most direct action possible, namely, suffering.”
Suffering in this life has salvific value. Joined with Christ’s suffering, it can clean sin from the soul even after it’s repented and forgiven. [Note: Suffering can have salvific value for other than expiation of sin, but let us not venture there just yet. That’s best left for another post.] For an example, we need look no further than King David. David repented of his sins, but then God sent Nathan to say: “Now the LORD has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the LORD, the child that is born to you shall die.” (II Samuel 12:13-14)
Suffering in the afterlife works to rid the soul of every trace of sin, as well as its after-effects. The mechanisms of post-life suffering are unknown to us. During my time in RCIA, a seminarian came to help teach our classes. He did his doctoral dissertation on Purgatory. He made a comment that has stayed with me ever since. “In Purgatory your soul is made perfect for the trip to heaven. There are many ways to clean something: acid, water, soap, chemicals like bleach or alcohol, even rubbing with sandpaper. But the most common description is that of fire, like the furnace in which iron goes in and steel comes out.” But there can be no suffering in Heaven, and from Hell there is no exit. The only place such fires can exist outside of this life is Purgatory. St. Augustine writes: “…plainly, though we be saved by fire, that fire will be more severe than anything a man can suffer in this life.” (Enarrationes 37, 3)
The bottom line is that purgatorial suffering is simultaneously a cleansing of unrepented sin, and a punishment for sins not repented with proper disposition of heart and mind.
Purgatory does not presuppose some defect in Christ’s redemption. It does not add Sanctifying Grace to the soul, so it doesn’t mean that redemption is something that can be had outside of this life. Earning your way into Heaven is still something that must be done here on Earth.
Historically, the doctrine is Apostolic in origin, and was refined very early in the Church. Many see Gregory the Great as having really set the doctrine of Purgatory in its modern footing, but Tertullian wrote of it as early as 208AD. Abericius, Bishop of Hierapolis, wrote of it in around 180AD, and is the earliest reference I have in my library. I’ve also read that there were scattered things scribbled on the walls of the catacombs that date earlier still (but I can’t find the citation just now).
It’s very true that the word “Purgatory” does not appear in the Bible. Scripturally, Purgatory is seen obliquely. In Matthew 12:32, Christ says: “And whosoever shall speak a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but he that shall speak against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, nor in the world to come.” How could there be forgiveness in the world to come, given that nothing defiled shall enter heaven, without purgatorial cleansing? In 1 Corinthians 3:15, Paul tells us that our works in life will be judged after death. Every man’s works will be manifest, and if they fail the test, “he will be the loser; and yet he himself will be saved, though only as men are saved by passing through fire.” This loss, this penalty, is interpreted as suffering; you’re saved, but only after passing through fire – the fire of Purgatory. Prayers for the dead are also seen as support for Purgatory. How else to explain it? Those already in Heaven don’t need such prayers, and those in Hell won’t be helped by them. 2 Maccabeus 12:46 says: “It is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins.”
There have been times when I’ve gone to Confession and come out feeling less than clean. This had nothing to do with a defect in the forgiveness offered me by God through his priest. It had everything to do with my state of mind during and before the sacrament. I was less than perfectly contrite – far less, at times – and I confessed half-heartedly, not wanting to admit to a priest that I knew well the sins I was guilty of. There were lots of reasons why some of my confessions were less than perfect. (This is, in fact, why the examination of conscience is so important before Confession.) There have been other times that I’ve poured my heart out to the priest on the other side of the screen, and come away feeling almost reborn, walking on air. In the first instance, I’ll likely encounter those sins again in Purgatory. In the second, I might have done enough to expiate them here in this life.
Let’s give the last quote to Anglican C.S. Lewis (who would have been Catholic but for a single point of conscience):
“I believe in Purgatory… Our souls demand purgatory, don’t they? Would it not break the heart if God said to us, ‘It is true, my son, that your breath smells and your rags drip with mud and slime, but we are charitable here and no one will upbraid you with these things, nor draw away from you. Enter into the joy’? Should we not reply, ‘With submission, sir, and if there is no objection, I’d rather be cleaned first.’ ‘It may hurt, you know’ – ‘Even so, sir’”
That’s really it, isn’t it? Who would want to be ushered into the beatific vision, into eternal bliss, dripping of mud and slime? Purgatory is, in fact, a mark of hope.
[Note – Generally, I use the Douay-Reims version of the Bible for quotations. I like the archaic forms of English, and it’s likely to be more familiar to those steeped in the traditional language of the King James Version. In this post, however, I’ve used a mix of modern and archaic language. It just so happens that the citations made here are particularly difficult to get the modern mind around when written in archaic English. How many people these days would use the word “mite” when they mean “farthing”? Such are the decisions thrust upon the modern Catholic blogger…]
Earning your way into Heaven is still something that must be done here on Earth.
This is a huge stumbling block for Protestants. You don't earn your way into Heaven. Nothing you do as a person can get you into Heaven.
Can you elaborate?
May just be a poor turn of phrase on my part, but what I'm getting at is back to the idea of works.
Elaborate in which direction, as to what Protestants re "earning" your way, or back to the idea of works as a mechanism of salvation? It may be a new post all together.
With four hours sleep each of the past three nights, I don't think I'm up to it just now.
Sorry, I'm still confused about the propriety of the traditional legal/penological terminology to describe purgatorial suffering.
If put in the language of cleansing and purification (like CS Lewis's), then I get it; confessional Protestants largely agree that there must be some post-mortem cleansing of the remaining imperfections in our souls before we can behold the Beatific Vision. It's not absurd (although it's also not taught in the Bible, leaving aside 2 Maccabees) to say that this purification as by fire occurs in a temporal state and that the prayers of the Church can aid those undergoing purification. (It's also not absurd to say, as the Presbyterian Westminster Confession does, that it happens (or can happen) instantaneously upon death. As Our Lord said to the thief on the Cross, "This day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.")
I should point out also that confessional Protestants also largely agree that *in this mortal life* there is often a need to make satisfaction for sins for which one has received God's forgiveness. If I steal something, and then seek God's forgiveness, I have an obligation to restore what I stole, or pay for it, or otherwise make satisfaction for it. If I murder someone, I may have an obligation to submit to being imprisoned or executed for it. This is partly to restore justice as among men, partly to deter others from committing the same offense, and partly to reform me. (In this regard, the Council of Trent, 14th Session, Chapter VIII seems just about right to me.) It makes perfect sense to describe works of satisfaction understood this way as "punishment" or "expiation" or in other legal terms, because they have purposes beyond the reformation of the sinner's soul.
Perhaps the problem arises when we apply this idea of satisfaction to post-mortem purgatorial suffering. We can agree that post-mortem purgatorial suffering is for the sake of correcting the defects in my soul that inhibit me from beholding the Beatific Vision. But is it also for the sake of restoring justice among men, or deterring others from committing the same offense? Or is there some other purpose? Seems to me that if we say that part of the purpose is restoring justice between God and me, then by necessary implication there is some defect in the redemption wrought by Christ.
Seems to me that if we say that part of the purpose is restoring justice between God and me, then by necessary implication there is some defect in the redemption wrought by Christ.
Not necessarily, RL. It very much depends on the state of our mind/soul/heart. Christ's redemption is complete, of that we can agree. However, our acceptance of that redemption may not be. As with the Sheed quote in the text, there may well be some defect in our disposition when we receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation, that prevents us from particpating fully. That defect may leave a lingering effect of the sin forgiven.
I myself have confessed sins for doing something that I really didn't want to give up. The tendancy toward that sin remained, and I found myself falling back into it from time to time. Did I do everything I could to go forth and sin no more? In my heart of hearts, I couldn't honestly say that I had. That doesn't alter the fact that God forgave me, but I was not - for my part - fully engaged in that forgiveness.
St. Francis de Sales said in Introduction to the Devout Life, that to overcome sin we must come to hate the sin itself. (I don't have the exact quote here, but it's something like that.) This is especially true of long-standing sin or sin of a habitual nature. This is something akin to what we're talking about here. Our disposition has much to do with it. It may be that we need to hate the sin in order to overcome it. That was certainly true in my case in the example above.
Let's step outside this particular topic for a moment and look at this idea from another angle. The Eucharist is called "The source and summit of all Christian life." (CCC1324) We were invited to the Eucharist by Christ himself. "To respond to this invitation we must prepare ourselves for so great and so holy a moment. St. Paul urges us to examine our conscience..." (CCC1385) If we receive without preparation, stumbling up to the front of the church in a sleepy daze, we may not be getting everything from the Eucharist that's offered by the sacrifice of Christ. It's not that there's a diminution of Christ in the Eucharist, but that our participation in it may not be total. It's a defect in our ability to participate fully. If your disposition is such that you receive the Eucharist unworthily, perhaps in a state of mortal sin or seperated from the Church in some way, you may actually commit a more grave sin in doing so. "Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord." (CCC1385, 1 Cor 11:27-29). It's not that Christ in the Eucharist is altered in any way; He most certainly is not. It's our disposition at the time of reception that can turn the source and summit of Christian life into a sinful act.
It's not that there's a defect in God's work of redemption, it's that there may be a defect in our acceptance of that work.
Does that make sense? I've had to hodge this together while doing a dozen other things, so it rambles terribly, I'm sure. If it doesn't make sense, I'll try to elaborate on my elaboration later.
I just want to point out that purgatory (and suffering here on earth) is not just for unrepented or imperfectly repented sins.
Every sin, even fully repented and forgiven sins where perfect contrition was present along with a rock solid purpose of ammendment (in other words, one was "fully engaged in...forgiveness"), carry a temporal debt, and we still have to pay that debt either in this life, or in the next.
In other words, sin itself causes a temporal debt regardless of whether we were perfectly repentant and had a firm purpose of ammendment, and even after the sin is forgiven, the debt must be atoned for. Imperfect repentance may add to our temporal debt (since it is a venial sin or imperfection), but all sin, in and of itself, carries a temporal debt, or leaves a stain on our souls which must be purified.
Christ's redemption buys our supernatural life, and is completely sufficient for that. But we have to pay our own temporal debts. That is probably what Paul meant when he said "...I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body."
Certainly had God willed it, Christ's sufferings could have payed out temporal debt as well, but the All Wise God knew better, for in paying our own debts we progress in holiness and virtue.
And if we don't quite pay it all in this life? Well, then we go to debtor's prison, where we won't get out until we have payed the last penny.
One last thing:
Whether purgatory is a place or a state or both, or whether it is instantaneous or people spend time there, etc., is theological speculation, not dogma. The only essentials in the doctrine of Purgatory are: that there is a purification after death for those who have died in the state of grace but still imperfectly purified; that it involves suffering; and that those undergoing it can be assisted by our prayers.
Seamas,
I've looked off-and-on all weekend, but I haven't been able to find any quotes to support the idea that ALL sin carries a temporal debt. I've seen some oblique references that dispute that, but nothing to support it. Could you aim me at a quote or two?
It may be a matter of semantics. I think most of the texts that I have assume an imperfect contrition, and therefore almost all sin would result in some amount of temporal punishment. However, is that true of the theoretical perfect contrition?