Before we begin this exploration, let me affirm that Purgatory is a doctrine of the Catholic Church—part of the “deposit of faith” that we believe comes from God’s Divine Revelation and, as such, is true. We do not choose to agree with or disagree with doctrine like we do with some restaurant or movie review—or even as we might agree or disagree about the evidence used to test a scientific hypothesis. When the Church defines a doctrine, She is not creating or constructing that doctrine—She is giving human words/images to a truth revealed by God. The Church proposes doctrine for our benefit, for our guidance, for our “calibration” to that truth of God. We can have questions about doctrine and struggle with a doctrine’s explanation or implications—but we do not get to vote “yay” or “nay” as to whether something is a doctrine or not. So, yes, we Catholics assent to the doctrine of Purgatory—we can’t ignore it even if it makes us uncomfortable or if it’s unpopular.
The question for us, is to ask what exactly Catholics understand Purgatory to be and then to explore its reasonableness in terms of God’s revelation about His judgment of the human soul. When a person dies, we believe their soul is immediately judged by God as fit for heaven or as fit for hell. There are, in the end, only two choices for our eternal life—heavenly bliss or hellish agony. We are told in the Bible that God desires all to be saved—there is not, never has been and never will be a human person for whom Jesus Christ did not suffer and die. Because God is love, He invites every person to receive His offer of salvation—but God will force no one to accept the gift. We know we cannot “pay” the price of our salvation: we do not earn salvation. Neither are we compelled to accept the gift. Those who reject God’s love and refuse His mercy send themselves to hell. So where does the doctrine of Purgatory fit into our understanding of the “two roads”—of only two possible eternal destinies?
As we examine what we believe about Purgatory, we should begin with what Purgatory is NOT—for many people who say they reject the doctrine of purgatory are actually rejecting beliefs that are not even taught! Let’s clear out of the way three false ideas about what Purgatory is.
Purgatory is not a third option for our eternal life, some “middle” place between heaven and hell for those who just don’t quite “measure up” to heavenly standards but also don’t qualify for eternal hellfire.
Purgatory is also not a temporary “hell” where God works out his anger by making people suffer and “pay” for their sins. God does not need to appease His disgust about our sins before He can set eyes on us.
Purgatory is not a way that we “earn” our way into heaven by making up for an easy life that we perhaps didn’t deserve. It’s not an interrogation chamber where God tortures us until we admit to all the nasty things we did and got away with.
After rejecting some false definitions about Purgatory, it is time to examine more closely what our doctrine about Purgatory really declares. Purgatory is best described by exploring the word itself—purgation (or purification) gives us a good idea of God’s intention in designing it. Although a real part of God’s heavenly kingdom, purgatory is not a physical place—it’s a spiritual state of cleansing, preparing and healing prior to entering the perfect joy of heaven. The “mud room” of God’s castle, so to speak.
Souls in purgatory are assured of their entrance into heaven. They experience the joy of anticipating heaven with a sharpness and clarity that we cannot experience on earth—heaven is so close they can taste it! But they’re not in heaven, so souls in purgatory also experience a suffering and sorrow that we cannot experience on earth—heaven is so close they can taste it!
The sorrow and suffering of purgatory is qualitatively different from the suffering of those in hell. Those in hell suffer the eternal reality of separation from love, from the ground of all love, because they have definitively chosen self over love. So the suffering of hell is the state of non-love: of the hellishly unsatisfying worship of the non-god, the self. The temporary suffering of purgatory results from a soul who wants to choose love of God over prideful self-assertion—but struggles with that choice and was unable, before death, to die completely to self. The soul is oriented toward the love of God, but can’t quite let go of a love of self that prevents a total gift of self to God—and these two opposing loves cannot both exist in heaven.
Heaven is too pure, too powerful, too clear to allow anything other than love to enter—it would unmake the self, it would shatter that divided soul. It’s God’s mercy that provides a state of purification for those weak and damaged souls who cannot yet “ascend the heights” of heaven. It’s God’s love that heals the soul in purgatory—a love that, at first, is almost unendurable. As the soul is purified and purged—the soul strengthens and enlarges. What was unendurable now becomes joyfully possible!
An analogy might be a young person learning to compete at the highest levels of their sport. What is impossible and downright dangerous to the novice just learning the basics becomes beautifully possible to the elite athlete—think of a little girl learning to do a forward roll and then consider Simone Biles sticking the landing of the most impossible double-double somersault ever attempted! Every athlete has gone through a “purgatory” so to speak in achieving excellence. They must give up their own notions of their abilities and how to improve. They must submit to a coach’s instruction and guidance even when they don’t always see the path forward—and undergo a period of conditioning and practice that is painful, exhausting and lengthy. The effort it takes to learn to love God and love neighbor is just as challenging a process—and God is eager to “coach” us to the victory of heaven! It’s not that God doesn’t want a soul in heaven that puts them in purgatory—it’s that the soul in purgatory is incapable of receiving the full force of God’s love face-to-face. They need further “conditioning.”
What makes love too impure for heaven? What makes love too weak for heaven? What makes love too small for heaven? I suppose the answer resides within the story of Original Sin in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve chose to act upon the serpent’s declaration of what was true rather than cling to the truth God had revealed. Adam and Eve chose to focus their desire on the one thing God forbade rather than the entirety of what God gave them. Adam and Eve chose to sacrifice harmony with God in order to grasp at autonomy and self-assertion.
When we choose self assertion over God—our love is too impure. When we choose to declare ourselves as the source and summit of truth, goodness and beauty, our love is too weak. When we choose our own agenda over God’s perfect plan, our love is too small.
So, does having impure, weak and small love mean that soul is doomed to hell? Perhaps, but not necessarily. Impure, weak and small love is still love. When the love is abandoned entirely and the impurity, weakness, and smallness is all that’s left of a soul, then, yes, that’s hell. But what if the soul clings to the love itself and wishes it were not impure, weak or small?
What would a just and merciful God do? Would He say, “Oh, don’t worry that your love is impure, weak and small—please come into heaven just as you are.” I don’t think so. Wouldn’t it be more just, more merciful, to help that soul achieve love at the level of excellence and perfection? If excellence and perfection were possible, wouldn’t it be justice to require it? Wouldn’t it be a mercy to help the soul achieve it? And isn’t that what we truly desire, too? Don’t we, really, at the core of who we are, yearn for perfection and wholeness and completeness. We know that’s what we’re made for.
That’s what purgatory is—a state of cleansing and healing so that one can enter the perfection of heaven and be perfectly at home in the Father’s Kingdom—having nothing to apologize for, having no limitations. We can be perfectly at home in the company of the saint and angels, in the grand furnace of love that is the kingdom of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit—we belong! There is nothing left in us at all that limits our capacity to give and receive the pure love of God.
Purgatory is God’s solution to the weakness and woundedness we experience in our fallen state and in our fallen world. Purgatory is the way we sin addicts go through “detox” and come out cleansed, chains and shackles thrown off, ready to live within the truth of who we really are—beloved sons and daughters of God.
So purgatory’s intention is cleansing, healing and purifying. Purgatory’s methods are rooted in the merciful love of God. So, why do we think of the “suffering souls” of Purgatory? What’s suffering got to do with love? The suffering of Purgatory is a sign, first, of diagnosis and then of a deep healing.
When one goes to a Doctor, the process of healing usually involves suffering, doesn’t it! First, the diagnosis often hurts. One has to tell the Doctor that some certain movement, some part of the body, hurts. And then what does the Doctor need to do? Move that part of the body! Check and see when, under what circumstances, it hurts. See the particular motion that hurts or which spot hurts and in what way. Then we have to hear the bad news—and doesn’t it also hurt when we admit to needing help? In fact, we often put off seeking help because we’re afraid of what we’ll hear—only making the situation worse due to our procrastination! We wait until we’re desperate and can’t stand the pain before we seek help.
Then, in addition to the diagnosis, the process of healing a physical ailment or disease hurts as well. To bring about healing, the doctor or physical therapist often must cause more pain to begin with. A doctor whose main goal was to not hurt anyone wouldn’t ever cut into a patient to remove the cancer! A physical therapist whose main goal was to help people avoid pain would encourage us not to move at all until, finally, we would lose all ability to move. When healing is sought, the “merciful” thing to do, the thing that is most loving, is to allow pain, to work through the pain, in order to bring about a greater good—a return to good health, to vitality. Restoration of health, achievement of perfection, is a more worthy priority than simply avoiding pain or suffering.
This is the pain of purgatory—it’s the excision of the cancer of sin or the breaking apart of scar tissue caused by the misuse of our freedom in nurturing vice. God allows us to experience the pain of the diagnosis—that our love is wounded and diseased in some way that must be addressed. We have to face the truth about ourselves—with no more excuses, rationalizations or distractions. We see by the clarity of heaven’s light shining through our souls all the disease, weakness and woundedness that we avoided working on during our earthly life.
After the diagnosis, comes the hard work of the equivalent of “physical therapy” on our soul. We need to unlearn old habits, “poor form” and the worn-in ruts that keep us from fully experiencing God’s love. Have you ever had to work on changing the way you walk or run or do some other physical activity? It is so hard! We get used to doing something the wrong way and, over time, we build up that muscle memory and, even when it hurts us, we keep doing it that way! I think the same thing happens with our souls, as well. It’s difficult to change those old habits, tendencies, vices and weaknesses—even when we know they wound us and aren’t spiritually healthy, we sometimes resist the hard work and pain it takes to learn a new way, a better way. By the way, that’s why our Catholic tradition emphasizes the constant growing and strengthening of virtues, even in the “little things” of life that we think don’t matter—because the exercise of virtue helps create the spiritual equivalent of “muscle memory” that will help us use that virtue when it really counts.
How long is this suffering in purgatory? Well, since purgatory exists in eternity, we can’t really answer that. There is no passage of linear time in eternity—the fullness of time, the “eternal now” of eternity, isn’t experienced or quantified by hours or days or years. The suffering of the diagnosis and healing of our soul may be experienced at the moment of the soul leaving the body—in an instant of our time. Sometimes the suffering a soul experiences, especially through healing, might take longer. God carefully and mercifully protects every bit of pure love He finds in us—not wanting to harm or remove anything fit for heaven by His surgical treatment. I guess the correct answer to “how long” purgatory lasts is: as long as is necessary to enter heaven.
The joy of purgatory, remember, is that the soul is assured of their salvation. They are at heaven’s door, they will enter as soon as they are able. There is no terror in purgatory of losing the beatific vision—there is no suffering caused by uncertainty or anxiety over God’s judgment. However, I don’t want to give you the impression that purgatory’s not that bad so don’t worry about it! Our goal is heaven! God designed us to be saints! Stive for excellence and have no ambition but to live as a citizen of heaven.
There’s another aspect of Purgatory that must be examined: and that’s our connection to the holy souls in the Body of Christ. The Church is described as existing in three states until the end of time: the Church triumphant in heaven, the church suffering in Purgatory, and the Church militant on earth. We form one Body, one communion of saints—and we are truly all members of the family of God.
This means that we can pray for the holy souls in Purgatory just as we pray for others on earth. The saints in heaven do not need prayers on their behalf. The joy of the saints is to pray for the rest of the members of the Body of Christ so that, in the end, God may be all in all. The holy souls in Purgatory depend upon our prayers for their purification and healing. They cannot pray on their own behalf as they undergo their purgation. Why? Perhaps the best way to think about it is to focus once again on the goal of purgatory—purgation or purifying of a soul who loves God but who had refused to acknowledge or let go of some sins. In this refusal, the soul succumbs to pride. Pride is the deepest, the most powerful of the seven deadly sins that hold us back from truly loving God—and it is the sin that made the devil out of an archangel.
Pride tells us, “I can do it myself! I don’t need anyone else! I am the sole authority and determiner of my life.” If we give in to pride, well, that’s hell in a nutshell. We join Satan in telling God, “I’d rather rule in hell than serve in heaven.” It is pride that leads us to reject the demands of love and focus on the demands of our fallen self. It is pride that leads us to believe we can be fulfilled, happy and complete in ourselves—that we don’t need a savior. It is pride, at its full maturity, that leads us to refuse the mercy of God’s love.
So what’s the antidote to pride? Humility! What’s a sign of humility? Seeking help from others! Humility is living out the truth Jesus told St. Catherine of Siena—”I am He who is, you are she who is not.” God is God. There is One God who is Lord of all—and it’s not me. It’s not you. When we live in this truth, our humility makes it possible for God’s love to reach us. Humility places us at the bottom-most valley of God’s holy mountain, capable of receiving every bit of the flowing waters of grace that pour down from His wounded side. If we refuse the lowest place, we refuse to be in the one place where we will receive the full effects of the flood of grace, immersed in God’s great ocean of mercy!
As the holy souls in Purgatory depend upon our prayers, they are strengthened and stretched in humility. And that destroys the effect of pride on the soul—and opens the soul fully to the love of God and neighbor. Our prayers offered for our beloved dead—and for all the holy souls in purgatory—are a sign of hope and trust in God. We don’t have to worry about whether a soul is still in purgatory or not: God receives our prayers within eternity, so all time is now! God will bring to fruition the love we give through our prayers—from our perspective, that might be in an immediate way, in an anticipatory way or in a retroactive way. From God’s perspective, all times are present and held in His heart and mind.
I had a friend at our parish who was a breast cancer survivor. She had just passed her fifth year of being cancer free, and then it returned with vigor and spread throughout her body. She was a faithful Catholic and a dear woman—she helped watch my preschool boys when I went in to work at the parish, and she was a gem! As the time of her passing came closer, she struggled to accept it. The last time I went to visit her, she was drifting in and out of unconsciousness. I sat beside her and prayed for her as I held her hand. Her eyes opened, unfocused, but then she fixed them on me and I could tell she knew who was there. I spoke to her and assured her of my love and prayers. She reached out, fear in her eyes, and whispered urgently, “Marie, save me!”
As I held her close, I whispered back to her, “Sue, I love you and I am praying for you, but I can’t save you. Jesus is the one who will save you, He is your Lord and He loves you. Pray to Him.” The aide came in and gave her something so she wouldn’t get agitated, and she slipped back into unconsciousness. I felt bereft as I left—so inadequate in my desire to help my friend and concerned for her peace of mind. She struggled, as perhaps most of us do, with a weakness and vice that she “managed” or, more accurately, avoided dealing with in this life. She died a day later.
The evening before her funeral, I had a dream. I saw a dusty trail along a ridgeline in the woods leading upwards. There was a drop-off in both directions. It was very indistinct, no vistas and not that interesting—gray and monotonous was my impression, with lots of spindly trees blocking any views. A crowd of people had come up to me and were passing by. I saw Sue among them. She greeted me enthusiastically, all smiles and energy and joy just as she was prior to her final illness. She spoke happily about the hard work of the trail and of her eagerness to continue walking. As she prepared to set off again, she reached out and placed her hand on my forearm—and steadied herself that way and pushed off to begin walking again. I felt in my dream the pressure on my arm, the feeling of her hand on my arm as I braced to support her. And then I woke up. I had never felt anything in a dream before—and the dream, unlike most of my dreams, stayed with me.
As I prayed that morning at her funeral Mass, I felt a great connection to Sue and to all my beloved family and friends and parishioners who had gone on before me. The experience of that dream (while certainly not an authoritative teaching!) reminded me of the power of our prayers—and of the joy of helping one another. We are, united in the love of Christ, able to support one another on the journey to heaven—in this life of course, but also in the purgation that may come after this earthly life. Our family ends our grace each evening at the dinner table by praying: “May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.” Amen. Yes, let us all help each other to go “further up and further in” as C. S. Lewis said.
Flourish Catholic 