Some 150 years ago a German gentleman named Denzinger published what
used to be, still is perhaps, a best seller with the snappy title: ‘ Enchiridion
Symbolorum et Definitionum’. On his death a learned Jesuit rejoicing in the name of
Bannwert continued to edit and update this volume which, for all I know, is still being
meticulously kept relevant by some hardworking theologian.
The reason why it was a best seller was because it became an essential handbook
for all seminarians and theology students. It listed the documents and definitions of
faith and morals issued by the Church and catalogued and graded all heresies
against such teachings. It went from detailing errors which were merely and mildly
‘offensive to pious ears’ to downright, deliberate, ‘eyes-wide-open’ and malevolent
heresies against basic Revelation and teaching of the Church.
The sad background to most – by far the majority – of all such errors was not ill will,
rebellion, hatred of God or his Church but good intentions. Some new theories or
explanations were prompted by attempts to right abuses or common
misunderstandings. Some were attempts to simplify the ideas and terminology of
theologians and make things simpler for the common man on the mythical Clapham
omnibus or its equivalent. Hackneyed terminology, hallowed through the ages as
neat and exact definitions, was put into modern language and promptly allowed for
even more mistakes and errors.
Martin Luther had many good points on his list of objections or theses which, for lack
of access to the web, he published in the customary way by nailing it to a church
door at Wittenberg in 1517. The concentrated and wholesale attack on him, added
to the natural human weakness which all authors have of being convinced that they
are right, resulted in his refusal to reconsider, never mind withdraw his teachings.
Broadly speaking, all heresies start in similar ways, continue in animosity and finally
end in tears.
The following article was written a few years ago, made available to anyone interested
and is not meant to be heretical. But it has all the classic symptoms: it is well
intentioned, it is an attempt to simplify something puzzling a lot of people, it is new (
in the sense that this sort of ‘description’ or argument does not seem to have been
used before) and – worst of all – the author thinks it is brilliant!
If you read it – judge for yourself. If it helps, then good. If you disagree, reject it.
P U R G A T O R Y
Limbo has already gone out of fashion. Condemned as an invention of St.
Augustine to appease his logic when it came to squaring the apparently difficult
doctrine of God's infinite mercy and Our Lord's statement that we cannot be saved
except through water and the Holy Spirit.
There seems to be a definite danger that Purgatory, in the common
estimation of many, might go the same way.
After all, indulgences have become a dim memory and were, even then,
not always clearly understood. Masses for the dead are not all that frequently asked
for by the younger generation. Funerals are becoming too joyful altogether, with even
priests wanting to have Mass said for them in white vestments in thanksgiving for the
life which has ended.
In many ways, it is a healthy attitude to death and to the hereafter and the whole idea
of punishment. We should thank God for a life. We should rejoice that someone has
gone to his or her Maker. We should not have a phobia that God is an ever-watching
eye ready to pounce on us for every fault and is keeping a spiritual ledger of merits
and demerits.
On the other hand, the doctrine of purgatory is still there. We still
commit sins and lay ourselves open to eternal and temporal punishments due to sin.
God's infinite perfections have not changed either. He still has infinite mercy; but also
justice, infinite love, understanding, forbearance, tolerance, sympathy and insight.
So what is the problem? Why do prayers for the dead not seem as popular and
as urgent as they were a generation or so ago?
Partly, it could be, because we are veering too far away from the craven fear
of God in the past to making the presumption that God is so kind and nice that he
surely would not exact retribution from us in any way.
Partly, however, because the popular image of purgatory does not really stand up to
the cold light of reason and logic.
Not the doctrine as such; but the commonly held notion of
purgatory, the description of it, the image we have of some sort of spiritual waiting-
room where these disembodied souls hang around for a time, long or short, certain of
eventually getting into heaven but being punished in some way until that glorious
moment comes.
Let us consider the following scenario of death, judgement,
heaven, hell and purgatory:
I die. Suddenly or after some sort of illness the soul is separated
from the body. That seems a fair definition of death in this context. My soul, my
personality, my substance, that spiritual part of me which makes me to be who I am,
that person whom God made and which was benefiting from Baptism and sanctifying
grace from all kinds of sacraments - is no longer part of the physical body which,
throughout my life, showed forth my personality and expressed the powers of the
soul - intellect, memory and will.
The body is reverently buried or cremated, my few friends say: " It's a shame; he
could have been worse", I get a mention in the Diocesan year book under the date of
my demise.
But where am I? " I ", the person, the real and spiritual individual who was
known through his body and loved for his kindness, wit and wisdom?
I am with God. For the first time I see God face to face in what the
ancient spiritual writers described as ' the particular judgement' - as opposed to the
general one on the Last Day.
Lots of other people have died on the same day
as myself. But we are not all standing in a long line waiting to see God and be
judged. We have died - have passed on from this world to the next.
This world is ruled by time and place. We
measure change - which is time. We apply our dimensions ( 42" chest, 5ft 6" height
etc) to space - which is place.
The next world has no time - there is no measurement of change. The next world
has no place - we have no dimensions to apply to our particular bit of space. It is just
as real a world as this one; it just tends to make our imagination boggle a bit.
I, and everyone else who has just died, see God face to
face as an individual. He judges me.
He knows, much better than I can ever do myself, what I have done
and what I have left undone. He knows what pressures I was under, what temptations
came my way. He knows how hard I tried or simply how limply I gave way. He knows
my own particular and peculiar gifts and strengths and the weaknesses which are part
of my nature or genes or have been acquired because of my youthful experiences,
shocks and traumas.
He is not only a just judge. He is a perfect judge
with infinite knowledge, sense of justice and infinite mercy and forgiveness. He also
has the infinitely perfect ability to balance his justice and mercy.
He decides; there and then; for me as an individual; in that timeless
and changeless and placeless state; without keeping me waiting or the others
standing in line biting their spiritual fingernails:
Heaven; Hell; Purgatory.
Heaven, if he decides that I have lived a good life on the whole. That I have made up
for the sins of my life and that, in general, I tried. His infinite justice is satisfied and he
grants the reward of heaven - as a free gift; not by any legal right on my part.
Hell, if he decides that I had turned my back on him and his grace through my life.
That I died in that state of deliberate and knowing refusal of God. No matter how
great and infinite his mercy, God cannot force me to know and love and serve him;
and once I have died it is too late to change my mind.
However, what am I - and all the others being personally, particularly judged -
doing during all this?
I am seeing, for the very first time, God face to face. God as he really is. In his glory
and majesty, his beauty and infinite perfections.
I am overwhelmed with wonder, love and joy. I never imagined God
could be like this. I am rivetted, totally absorbed and interested only in God. I am not
even thinking: "What is God going to say to me? What will be the result of his
judgement, the sentence for my lifetime, the condition I will live in for the whole of
eternity?"
If God judges: ' come into heaven', then I continue in that state of
wonder and add gratitude to it.
If God judges: ' go into hell', then the whole joy and glory of being
in his presence is taken away and sheer and utter despair takes its place. A despair
which one cannot here imagine [ where we can always say things like " time will heal"
or " it won't last for ever"]. It will last for ever; and having been given the vision of God
( the Beatific Vision) it is now taken away - for ever.
But if God judges: ' yes, you tried, you even tried to pay off
temporal punishment for your sins during your life but my infinite justice demands that
the rest of that punishment must be paid off' - then he will send me to purgatory.
Where is that purgatory?
We are not, any longer, ' in place', so it is
conceivable that purgatory consists of God withdrawing from me the Beatific Vision
with the assurance that it will not be for ever.
In which case in what condition or state or 'place' will I be? Surely the
same as those who have been sent to hell; deprived of that vision. The only
difference would be that I am clutching a guaranteed release ticket.
And how long would I be deprived of this vision? When will my release come
about? How can one measure this in conditions where there is no time?
Would it not be better, more in accord with the little we do know of the world
to come, more in line with the very nature of God and our own make-up of intellect
and will to posit the theory that purgatory takes place there and then at the particular
judgement? No lapse of time; no change of place or temporary exile from the
presence of God and the Vision of him.
What is the most painful feeling or human mental condition? Physical pain is
pretty bad. Fear is worse. Despair is the ultimate and most negative and destructive.
But remorse is real, painful, positive and very often constructive - in the sense that we
wish we had not done it and certainly will not do it again.
At my personal judgement I have a clear vision of God in
all his perfections. I am shattered by his glory. I am even more shattered at the insight
I get of the unimportance of the life on earth that has passed and the cavalier fashion
in which I lived up, or failed to live up, to the grace that had been given me.
I see in every detail all my failures. I see them as deliberate insults to this marvellous
God I am now enjoying. I cannot believe what an utter fool I must have been not to
have seen and understood; how simple it would have been to toe the spiritual line I
was well aware of; how irrelevant were the things I thought were so important.
I have remorse. A terrible feeling and knowledge of failure. An awareness of
inadequacy in relationship to God. A feeling of shame and disgust at myself and
before God and others. A very real and positive conviction of unworthiness, lost
opportunities, harm done, ingratitude to God and man.
All of this sharpened not only by the vision and
knowledge of God but also by the utterly clear understanding and acceptance of my
own fault and failures. No more self excuses, no more fudging the issues, blaming
others, putting it down to my hormones, genes, traumas, circumstances, distractions
or " I wasn't really thinking".
That is purgatory.
Not suffered in a different place apart from God. Not suffered
through any lapse of extended time. But measured by intensity, by the reality of the
remorse, by its keenness and the degree of clarity of understanding of God himself
and my own failures.
A very real thing; a genuine suffering. So real and strong that the consolation of
knowing that I am not being sent to hell does not come into it as a consolation. I am
too hurt, humbled, suffering, miserable and remorseful even to think of that fact.
The justice of God, the 'amount of temporal punishment to
be paid off', the 'time' spent in purgatory is measured by the intensity of that remorse.
An intensity judged to a perfect degree by the Just ( and equally Merciful) Judge who
measures out the awareness I deserve of his own glory and my own unworthiness.
If at the moment of my death and at the stage of standing before the
judgement seat of God the temporal punishment I have not yet paid off is simply for
some slight peccadillo, then God will give me just a slight stab of remorse. I will not be
presented with a long and graphic list of my past failures and will not be asked to
contrast them with God's glory and perfection; with his constant grace and spiritual
offers of help through the years which I casually spurned.
If the unpaid 'debt' is a big one [and only God can judge this] then the remorse will be
excruciating. The list of failures will be long and gory and presented in every detail.
The insight into God's perfection and the persistent failure to co-operate with his
grace will be highlighted to a very painful degree.
That will be what will amount to the 'time' spent in purgatory.
A remorse [ not just a feeling, but a clear knowledge
and conviction] the clarity of which we cannot even conceive of in this life. The
intensity and pain of which will be judged by God exactly and perfectly.
So far so good; perhaps.
But where does this leave us with the ' communion of saints' and praying for the
dead? Why bother, when the dead are not suffering in a place and not suffering
through any kind of time span, to pray for the dead, have Masses said for them, gain
indulgences and generally believe that it makes any difference to God whether we
pray for the dead or not?
Our statement in the Creed - ' I believe in the communion of saints' - means that
we believe in praying for the dead [ and praying to those in heaven]. We have
always been quite rightly assured that if we pray for a dead person God will take into
account our prayers, good works, penances, indulgences, and credit that person
with them. We have also, again rightly, been taught that if the person we pray for
does not, in fact, need our prayers, then God will transfer those prayers to someone
else.
But how long should we pray for a
person? Can it really be true that if I pray for my dead father now, fifty odd years after
his death, his stay in purgatory (should he still be there) will be shortened in
proportion to the frequency, intensity and efficacy of my prayer?
The theory of 'instant purgatory' allows for and even continues to encourage
prayer for the dead in every way. It does this because it suggests it is high time we
acknowledged that God knows everything.
Not just as in the past or in the
present or in the future. He knows everything as an ever-present present; here and
now. For what it may be worth in mental agility for us, he even knows contingencies --
what would have happened had I done something which, in fact, I did not do!
God, therefore, knows at the moment of my particular judgement when
he gives me the intensity of remorse that there will be prayers said for me at my
funeral. He knows that ten years later there will be a Mass offered for me by some
kind priest who suddenly comes across my name in his parish archives.
God takes these prayers of the future into account here
and now and makes the intensity of my remorse that little bit less. He makes my
awareness of his glory that little bit less striking and the sharpness of my insight into
my past follies just that little bit duller.
We should and must continue to pray for the dead.
But their purgatory is not shortened as and when we pray through the years. Their
instant purgatory is made less intense and painful by the knowledge God has of how
much prayer will be said and, in his mercy and justice, God will allow for this here and
now.
This theory also solves the problem people
have always had about praying for the dead: what happens if the person we pray for
does not, any longer, need our prayers? We were always told that God transferred
the merits of our prayer to someone else in need. This still applies. If, as I stand
before the judgement seat, God sees so much prayer being offered up for me - now
and in the future - that he feels it right to let me off all remorse plus some, then the
extra will, in God's own way, be applied to someone else.
No heartfelt and genuine prayer ever goes astray or is wasted.
This theory of purgatory should help to make us continue to be
aware of the fact that temporal punishment for sin does exist. That God must exact
this in one way or another because he is infinitely just.
The theory is more realistic in dealing with the
problem of time and place after death which, if we just use our imagination and
experience of this world, makes us form the picture of purgatory as being some sort
of waiting-room crowded with miserable but hopeful disembodied souls.
It should continue to encourage us to follow the 'communion of
saints' doctrine in a practical way by praying for the dead.
It should, finally, not in any way discourage the present
fashion of using funerals as a thanksgiving for life and an expression of trust and
confidence in God's forgiveness. We should not, however, restrict ourselves to these
sentiments but actually also pray for the person in whose funeral rite we take part in
the certain knowledge and faith that God has foreseen our prayers. That he
continues to listen to our pleas to help the souls in purgatory - adjust their instant
pain and agony of remorse in its intensity and vividness; not 'shorten' the time in
purgatory or alleviate the place.
I would, therefore, to end this scenario of my demise, desire to be buried with
purple vestments being used by the priest to encourage prayer for - rather than just
thanksgiving for a life and an expression of confident joy that I have gone to meet my
Maker. I have been heard to utter the threat that, if buried in white, I will come back!
I would not be happy to think that when I face my God in my
particular judgement he will say to me:
" I'm sorry, son, I see no prayers being offered for
you, no Masses said. The few people who care are all rejoicing that you have come to
me. They are all giving thanks for the bit of good they think you may have done
during your life. So I will have to give you the full intensity and horror of all the
remorse due to you. In fact, son, they have stopped praying for the dead down there
so there are not even any spare prayers from someone else I can transfer to you.
But here's a little bit of relief to your remorse: some of the saints now with me have
remembered that you prayed for them when they died. So they have put in a good
word for you."
How about Indulgences, however?
Do we still have them? What do they really mean?
Forget all about the Crusades, all about the pardoner selling indulgences in
Chaucer's takes, all about friend Luther nailing his theses to church doors.
To understand Indulgences we have to go right back to the very
early Church and see the word 'indulgence' as meaning something like "overlooking,
forgiving faults". The same principles apply:
God is infinite in all perfections and therefore he has to exact
punishment, repayment, for sins and transgressions, because he is infinitely just.
Repentance means we ask for forgiveness which God gives us unconditionally
because of his love and mercy. Thus the guilt of sin is wiped out - for good.
But the punishment due to sin still remains. Temporal, limited punishment; not the
eternal and unlimited punishment of hell.
How much punishment; what sort; how it can be 'paid off' are utterly unknown to
us. Only God knows. We simply do our best. We try to lead a good life, we take on
voluntary penances, we pray to God and worship him and trust that all these things
will pay off this temporal debt due to our sins.
The early Church saw and accepted all this.
It also accepted the power Our Lord had given to 'bind and loose on earth'. Not just
forgive the guilt of sin but also to pay off the debt.
The Church decided, therefore, that according to the then current custom of public
penance ( going around in sack-cloth instead of M&S high fashion, abstaining from
meat and/or gin and tonic; generally being seen as a penitent) a certain period of
such penance would pay off that amount of punishment due for a certain sin.
Let's say that dodging the bus fare merited 20 days of public
penance. Adultery rated five years of being publicly seen as a repentant adulterer.
Worshipping a false god rated ten years of public penance.
Repentance and the forgiveness of the guilt of the sin was always a pre-
condition. The amount of 'punishment' was in God's hands but the Church with her
full authority to bind and loose made a stab at equating this punishment by settling
some certain amount of public penance.
In time, the actual public penance was substituted by undertaking good works and
prayer.
Substituting a prayer, a good deed, a pilgrimage, a week's labour laying bricks for a
cathedral became known as an indulgence - overlooking, forgiving a fault equal to a
certain number of days/years of repentance and public penance.
Gradually the good works could even be substituted by payment
to a good cause.
Instead of actually washing the feet of a leper in hospital the sinner could give a
standing order to pay for a nurse to do so.
Of course, abuses soon crept in so that supporting good causes, even such as
Crusades, could forgive as much punishment ( still no one knowing exactly how much
- God alone decided) as a period of public penance used to do. One could actually
support a good cause or just give financial donations.
The Church always tried to keep faithful to the idea that prayer must be
associated with indulgences and through all the abuses, eventually, a pattern grew
up where - again with the authority of the Church - a system was set up that a certain
definite prayer or form of prayers would have the same effect as a period of public
penance used to have.
Thus, in our age, a prayer would have
the effect of 100 days indulgence. This meant that if the prayer was said well and
with devotion and the right intention then it would have the same effect as 100 days
public penance used to have in the early Church. What, exactly, that effect was and
is continues to be unknown.
It does NOT mean
that we have the indulgence ( in the sense of freedom) to sin for 100 days with
impunity!
Nor does it mean that we are let off 100 days in Purgatory. It never meant that
even if people believed that Purgatory could be measured in days and months and
years.
It simply meant, in a concrete way, that
we believe that voluntary penance and good works of one sort or another have the
power to forgive temporal punishment for sin. It means that we believe only God can
actually measure the amount. It continues to mean that a prayer now or a good deed
now have the same effect as public penance used to have.
Since we have always believed in the 'communion of saints' it has
always been accepted that these merits, this repayment of some sort of amount of
temporal punishment, could be applied to others. Mainly it was applied to those who
had died; to 'the souls in Purgatory'.
A Plenary Indulgence means exactly that: a certain amount of public penance
in the good old days was considered to have been enough to forgive all temporal
punishment due to a person's sins. A set form of prayers now ( a visit to a church, a
pilgrimage or other conditions set up by the authority of the Church) has the same
effect as that public penance in the early church.
There is no magic, no guarantee, certainly nothing automatic in any of this.
Paying off our temporal punishment ( or applying this to others) depends not only on
the conditions laid down by the Church but also on having repentance, having the
guilt of the sin forgiven and on the devotion and piety and good intentions of the
person saying the prayer(s) or doing the actions.