October leaves flash gold and red, blowing over streams and roads. The cold November rain transforms the foliage into a damp carpet on sidewalks and forest floors. Our attention turns to hot soup, spiced drinks and wintertime.
The church begins November by celebrating all of the saints in heaven. The second of November brings the commemoration of All Souls. We are invited to pray for our relatives and friends who have gone before us. Many families visit cemeteries to pray at the graves of their loved ones. In Mexico, people celebrate El Dia de Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. Masks, music and food turn gray cemeteries festive with color and song.
For Catholics, the death of the faithful is cause for hope, even rejoicing, amid the mourning. A prayer at the funeral Mass proclaims, “Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended.” Death is not an end, but a gateway into everlasting life.
But what that everlasting life looks like remains a mystery to us while we are here on earth. Most of us aim for heaven and hope to avoid hell, but rarely do we think about that other option: purgatory. Purgatory seems to come up more often in television shows or classic literature than in our daily discussions of the afterlife. But what do Catholics believe about purgatory? Does purgatory deserve a proper burial along with other medieval superstitions, like bloodletting and limbo? I find in this Catholic teaching a gritty, hopeful realism.
Let’s be honest: We are not all saints yet. Ask the men in my Jesuit community and they will give you plenty of examples of my grumpiness, laziness and impatience. “Was I on for dish duty last night? Oops.” I can give similar examples for them, too. I try to forgive, but I choose not to forget. We are not devils either, not entirely. We are caught somewhere in between, with flashes of charity and selfishness side by side. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven” (No. 1030).
This describes many of us. We are “imperfectly purified.” Yes, I do pray. I celebrate and participate in the sacraments, especially Mass and confession. As a Jesuit, I have been on two 30-day silent retreats and 24 eight-day retreats, plus a handful of weekend retreats and days of prayer—almost 300 days on retreat as a vowed religious. I should be holier than this. I am working on it. Kind of.
Pope Francis asks us to pray for the souls in purgatory. “Let us not forget, however, that so many deceased also await our spiritual support,” he said. “Let us remember them in our prayers, together with Mary, ‘Queen of All Saints.’”
Perhaps purgatory does not belong in the ecclesial waste bin but rather deserves our attention, like other neglected teachings such as the Sacred Heart devotion and reparation. Praying for those in purgatory is communal. We pray as families and in the church, with Mother Mary. We are sinners praying for sinners. I will need to apologize to some people when I get there. I will need to grant forgiveness to others. This reality is also an incentive for me to do these things now.
There is a great continuity between earth and purgatory: I have opportunities for purification, or purgation, from my sinful habits now. These come every evening at the dinner table and at Thanksgiving with my extended family. Life on earth is a kind of purgatory. We are not in heaven nor in hell. We can experience heavenly moments in a glorious Mass, when separated lovers are reunited or when holding a newborn child. We see glimpses of hell here, too, in the blank craters on a Ukrainian battlefield or a mother seeing her son convulsing after a drug overdose.
Purgatory is not an act of God’s justice but a sign of God’s mercy in the face of human sinfulness. If the Beatitudes are a pathway to heaven, then what about the times that I ignore those guideposts and do the opposite? Blessed are the meek and the peacemakers (Mt 5); what about the overbearing and the warmakers?
Pope Francis’ views on hell are complex and worthy of another article. Recently he stated, “What I would say is not a dogma of faith, but my personal thought: I like to think hell is empty; I hope it is.” But at a prayer service for those murdered by the mafia in Italy in 2014, he addressed the hitmen: “Convert. Stop doing evil…. There’s still time to stay out of hell. That’s what’s waiting for you if you stay on this path.” Perhaps the pope’s first statement is a prayer and his second is a warning. Jesus likewise speaks of hell while doing all he can to keep us out of it.
Pope Benedict XVI writes eloquently of the afterlife in his encyclical, “Spe Salvi.” On purgatory, he reflects:
The belief that love can reach into the afterlife, that reciprocal giving and receiving is possible, in which our affection for one another continues beyond the limits of death—this has been a fundamental conviction of Christianity throughout the ages and it remains a source of comfort today. Who would not feel the need to convey to their departed loved ones a sign of kindness, a gesture of gratitude or even a request for pardon? (No. 48).
St. Ignatius encouraged, even ordered, Jesuits to pray for their deceased brothers and for departed donors to the Jesuit order. These are prayers of gratitude for all they did on earth, and prayers that they join the saints so that they can pray for us in heaven. This tradition continues as Jesuits are required to offer two Masses for the dead each month; one is for deceased Jesuits and another for departed benefactors.
For Catholics, the dead never really go away. “Life is changed, not ended.” We can still love the departed, pray for them, remember them. I offer a twofold petition: “Grandma, I love you and pray for you. If you’re in heaven, pray for me and help me to see you there.”
What is purgatory like? Saints and Scriptures offer images and descriptive parables, always related to heaven. If heaven is like a wedding banquet (Mt 22), then purgatory may be understood as a cleansing and preparation for a great celebration. It is not a dreary waiting room at the D.M.V., but a place of lively hope and excitement. The Book of Revelation describes heaven as a garden with fruit trees and rivers (21-22). In this way, life on earth and in purgatory are a journey to a glorious destination. Am I in the backseat kicking my siblings and complaining, “Are we there yet?” Or, with the saints, am I helping my fellow travelers, like the Good Samaritan—as we anticipate our arrival at our eternal home?
See you in Purgatory! Let us pray that we are not there for long.
