Meditations for Layfolk - Purgatory

The Protestant Reformation abolished among its adherents belief in Purgatory: it has found that by so doing it is bound also to remove from among its disciples a belief in an everlasting Hell. The Gospel is so welded together in truth, that if one part or article is renounced, the rest is at once deprived of meaning. To deny one single tenet of the Church is impossible, for the denier is at once brought to see how some other teaching, that in itself he is willing to admit, is at once rendered void of all sense. To deny Purgatory was to set an alternative between Heaven and Hell, so sharp as to be too painful for faith and hope and love. As a result, under the name of Hell, a sort of caricature of Purgatory is now taught in the Protestant churches. Consider what it must mean to believe that souls must be either perfect and wing their way straight into the presence of God, or imperfect and be condemned to eternal perdition! Surely the more we think of the blinding purity of God, the more conscious do we become of how few of even the best and holiest on earth are fit for that spotless presence. Is God expected to take into the eternal vision of Himself those whose lives have been full of imperfection? Can I honestly say of myself that I am in hatred of God, or, on the other hand, that I feel myself ready for an immediate approach to Him? Gradually, therefore, the idea grew that Hell was nothing more than a place of preparation for the final reward of the vision of God.

This remark is not introduced from a controversial motive, but merely to bring out into clearer relief the teaching of the Church. For us, then, Purgatory is not a half-way house between the two, but it is" set right on the way to Heaven. Its meaning can be best described by a true understanding of the Judgement. The soul then, one must suppose, sees exactly its state, contrasting its weakness and long list of sins with God's spotlessness. It feels that it cannot, just as it is, straightway after death venture into that presence, for "nothing defiled shall enter Heaven"; consequently it turns eagerly to find whither it may go to get cleansed from its stains. It flies to Purgatory. We must not look upon this as though it were some place of punishment, some prison-house in which the poor soul suffered fearful torture in order that the justice of God should be avenged. This view of God would seem to be childish: He does not want to make us love Him by the sole method of punishment. He does not act, in order to draw us to Himself, by the way of coercion, and keep us immured in Purgatory till we are ready to say we love Him; but He allows us a place where we may be purged of our sins and rendered fit by the fires of love for an entrance to the beatific vision of His beauty. It is, indeed, a state of pain, but not of sorrow; it is suffering, but in utter gladness; for the doors of Purgatory lead necessarily to the pathway to God.

I must not think, therefore, that my dear dead are in anguish. No doubt they are restless and eager for their release, but only as a lover might be restless who did not find himself fit to meet his beloved. He would wish, indeed, that his time for approach might be hastened; but he would be far from wishing to enter straight into that presence without being fitted for it. For love, too, makes its demands upon us; love, too, has its ceremonies more rigorously enforced than the ceremonies of court or altar. The suffering soul is certain of its ultimate reward, the sight of God. It has no feeling of fear, no anxiety as to whether or not it shall in the end be able, as its time approaches, to leave the purifying fire and draw near to the presence of God; surely, then, must its joy, the reward of the perfect knowledge of its Maker, already have overflowed into the soul. Hence there is pathos, but not rebuke, when it turns itself to beg the supplication of my prayers. It is established in the way, but it cannot now help itself. It is certain of its release, but it cannot in any way that we know of, hasten the time of it: it is left in that regard entirely in our hands, at our mercy. It is, as Saint Thomas reminds us, the supreme expression of friendship that the friend bears the sufferings of his friend; if we could take upon our shoulders the pain of all our friends, surely they would always be at peace. Here, then, that course is open to us, and we can truly save them from their penalties. They are waiting - not impatiently, for they cannot cry out against the will of God; but it is in my power to help them. Let me see to it that this is done, and the law of love obeyed.

- text taken from Meditations for Layfolk by Father Bede Jarrett, O.P.