Purgatory

EWTN, Global Catholic Radio, and St. Joseph Communications proudly present Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen. This 50-part series was recorded on phonograph records in the 1960s, and the sound quality is sometimes limited, but the Word of God spoken by Archbishop Sheen is timeless. And now, here is Archbishop Fulton Sheen. Peace be to you. I wonder if you ever heard the story of a monk who did not get up for meditation each morning. He would sleep until it was about time for him to say his Mass. The superior called him in and said, You must get out of bed every morning at 4.30 and come down for your hour meditation before Mass. The monk said, I find it very hard to get up. The superior said to him, Well, tomorrow morning when you wake up, you imagine that you are in purgatory, and the flames of purgatory are enveloping you, and you will immediately bound out and come down for meditation. Well, the next morning, he was late as usual. The superior called him in and asked, Did you do what I told you to do? Yes, he said, I did, but I loved purgatory. Well, that is our subject. We will see how you like it. Once I visited a man in a hospital who had led a very miserable life through alcoholism, infidelity, and other gross sins. He had made his wife very unhappy, his children ashamed of his conduct, and the whole family impoverished. But on his deathbed, we reconciled him to God, and he said to me, I will not be here much longer. I have no doubt that God has forgiven my sins, but I am ready for that strengthening which I know I shall get and deserve. Notice the distinction that he made between peace and pain. He was at peace because his sins were forgiven, and yet he knew that he had not fully atoned for all of his sins. He distinguished between forgiveness and making up for the sins. Just as the thief did on the left-hand side of our Lord, or rather the right-hand side of our blessed Lord, our Lord assured him of paradise, and yet he continued to suffer. And while he was hanging there, that thief said, We suffer the due reward of our deeds. It is one thing to be forgiven, it is quite another thing to expiate for that sin. If you ever visited a great diamond mine, such as Kimberley, and saw the diamonds there on the raw, you would be disappointed because they look so dull and so full of flaws. Each and every one of them would have to be cut and then polished, and if the diamonds were conscious, it would be a rather painful process. And it would have to be done, too, by an expert. Our purgatory is like that. It is a means of reaching excellence. It is a means of achieving a perfection that otherwise would never be known. Purgatory is something like a dark room, or a photographic film. The film is taken into the dark room. It is treated with burning acids that all of the hidden color and beauty may be revealed. Purgatory is some such place as that. The judgment of God is final, but still there is a merciful chance to be cleansed of the remains of sin by those who die in the state of grace, but are not yet atoned for all the punishment due to sins. For example, we are forgiven for having stolen, and yet never returned the stolen goods. Most of us are not ready to go before the judgment seat of God. Look at how many undone duties there are in our lives, loose ends, muddling through responsibilities, wrong turns retraced and then taken again lightly, opportunities missed. Intentions were good and not wholly carried into act. Most of our good intentions actually were only on the thin upper surface of our soul. They did not always sink down into the very depths of our being, and God therefore will not sentence such souls to eternal loss. That is why there was a provision made for making up for our failings if we die in the state of grace, after death. Hence we read in the book of the Maccabees that it is a pious, holy thought to pray for the dead that they may be released from their sins. Our blessed Lord himself spoke of forgiveness and the world to come. Remember the parable of the debtor's prison from which there was no release until the debt is paid, and that implied a release from debts and another life. Furthermore, St. Paul says that man is imposed very poor materials on the foundations which were laid by Christ, and these materials must all be tried by fire. Now what is purgatory? It is that place in which the love of God tempers the justice of God, and secondly where the love of man tempers the injustice of man. In other words, we want to show you how very reasonable it is. First of all, we say that purgatory is where the love of God tempers the justice of God. The necessity of purgatory is grounded upon the absolute purity of God. In the book of the Apocalypse we read of the great beauty of his city, of its pure gold, with its walls of jasper and its spotless light, which is not of the sun nor moon, but the light of the Lamb slain as it were from the beginning of the world. We also learn of the condition of entering into the gates of that heavenly Jerusalem. As the holy book puts it, there shall not enter into it anything defiled, or that worketh abomination, or that maketh a lie, but they that are written in the book of the life of the Lamb. So justice demands then that nothing unclean, but only the pure of heart, shall stand before the face of the pure God. Now suppose there were no purgatory. The justice of God would be too terrible for words. Few of us would dare assert that at the moment of death we were pure enough and spotless enough to stand before the Immaculate Lamb of God. Do you think you could say it? I know I cannot. Oh, there are some, yes, like the martyrs who sprinkle the sands of the Colosseum with their blood in testimony of their faith. Do you think missionaries like Paul who spend themselves and are spent for the spread of the gospel, cloistered saints who in the quiet calm of a voluntary calvary become martyrs without recognition? Souls like that, yes, but these are glorious exceptions. How many millions there are who die with their souls stained with venial sin, who have known evil and by their strong resolve have drawn from it only to carry with them the weakness of their past as a leaden weight. The day that we were baptized, the Church laid upon us a white garment, saying, Receive this white garment which mayest thou carry without stain before the judgment seat of our Lord Jesus Christ, that thou mayest have life everlasting. You kept your garment unspotted and unsoiled by sin? Have any of us? Any of we kept the garment so clean that we could in justice say we deserve to enter the white-robed army of the King of Kings? How many souls departing this life have the courage to say that they left it without any undue attachment to creatures, that they were never guilty of a wasted talent, a slight stupidity, an uncharitable deed, a neglect of holy inspiration, or even an idle word for which every one of us must render an account? How many souls there are gathered in at the deathbed like late-season flowers that are absolved from sins but not from the debt of sin? Take any of our national heroes whose names we venerate and whose deeds we emulate. Did any Englishman or American who knew something of the purity of God, as much as he loves and respects, for example, a Nelson or a Washington, believe that either of them at death was free enough from slight faults to enter immediately into the presence of God? Why the very nationalism of a Nelson and of a Washington, which made them both heroes in war, might in a way make them suspect of being unsuited after death for that true internationalism of heaven where there is neither English nor American, Jew nor Greek, barbarian nor free, but where all are one in Christ Jesus our Lord? All these souls who die with some love of God possessing them are beautiful souls, but if there is no purgatory, then because of slight imperfections they must be rejected without pity by divine justice. Take away purgatory, and God could not pardon so easily, for will an act of contrition at the edge of the tomb atone for thirty years of sinning? Take away purgatory, and the infinite justice of God would surely reject from heaven those who resolve to pay their debts but have not paid even to the last farthing? That is why I say purgatory is where the love of God tempers the justice of God, for there God pardons because he gives time to retouch these souls with his cross, to recut them with the chisel of purification, that they might fit into the great spiritual edifice of the heavenly Jerusalem, where he plunges them into purifying places where they might wash their stained baptismal robes to enter into the spotless purity of heaven, a place where he can resurrect them like the phoenix of old from the ashes of their own suffering, so that like wounded eagles healed by the magic touch of God's cleansing flames, they might mount heavenward to the city of the pure, where Christ is King, Mary is Queen, for regardless of how trivial the fault, God does not pardon without tears. And there are no tears in heaven. Now we consider the other proposition. Purgatory is a place not only where the love of God tempers the justice of God, but where the love of man may temper the injustice of man. I believe that most men and women are quite unconscious of the injustice and the ingratitude and the thanklessness of their lives until they see the cold hand of death laid upon someone that they love. It is then and only then they realize, and oh, with what regret, the haunting poverty of their love. One of the reasons why the bitterest of tears are shed over graves is because of words left unsaid and deeds left undone. The child never knew how much I loved her. He never knew how much she meant to me. I never knew how dear he was until he was gone. Such words are the poisoned arrows which cruel death shoots at our hearts from the door of every sepulcher. Oh, then we realize how differently we would have acted if only the departed one could come back. Tears are shed in vain before eyes which cannot see. Caresses are offered without response to arms that cannot embrace, and thighs stir not a heart whose ear is deaf. Oh, then the anguish for not offering flowers before death had come, and for not sprinkling the incense while the beloved was still alive, and for not speaking kind words that now must die on the very air they cleave. Oh, the sorrow at the thought that we cannot atone for the stinted affection we gave them, for the light answers we returned to their pleading, and for the lack of reverence we showed to one who was perhaps the dearest thing that God ever gave us to know, but too late. It does little good to water last year's crop, to snare the bird that has flown, or to gather the rose that has withered and died. Purgatory, therefore, is the place where the love of God tempers the justice of God, but also where the love of man tempers the injustice of man, for it enables hearts who are left behind to break the barriers of time and death, to convert unspoken words into prayers, unburned incense into sacrifice, unoffered flowers into alms, and undone acts of kindness into help for eternal life. Take away purgatory, and how bitter would be the grief for our unkindness, and how piercing our sorrow for our forgetfulness. Take away purgatory, and how empty are our wreaths, our bowed heads, our moments of silence. But if there be a purgatory, then immediately the bowed head gives way to a bent knee. The moment of silence turns to a moment of prayer, and the fading wreath to the abiding offering of sacrifice in the mass of that great hero of heroes, which is Christ. Purgatory then enables us to atone for our ingratitude, because through our prayers, mortifications, and sacrifices, it makes it possible to bring joy and consolation to the ones we love. Love is stronger than death, and hence there should be love for those who have gone before us. Shall death cut off gratitude? Certainly not. The Church assures us that not being able to give more to them in this world since they are not of it, we can still seek them out in the hands of divine justice, and give them the assurance of our love and the purchasing price of our redemption. Just as the man who dies in death has the maledictions of his creditors following him to the grave, but he may have his good name restored and revered by the labor of his son who pays the last penny, and so too the soul of a friend who has gone to death owing a debt of penance to God may have it remitted by us who are left behind by knitting the coin of daily actions into the spiritual coin which purchases redemption by praying for these poor souls in purgatory. They suffer, yes. They can no longer gain merit. They are like an automobile that has run out of gasoline. So they must passively undergo some kind of purification. In purgatory we love, and because we love we are happy, because that suffering brings us closer to divine love. Now, the fires of purgatory are the fires that burn away dross. And when, therefore, a soul is completely purified, there is nothing left to be consumed, and it just naturally, because it's pure, goes before the judgment. Not the judgment seat, but rather the throne of God himself. There is no sense of pain when perfect love is eventually reached. Now what this suffering of the poor souls in purgatory is like is rather difficult for us to imagine. It is kind of dual. On the one hand it is the suffering because we are separated from God, and on the other hand it is the suffering because we're so anxious to be with him. Perhaps no one has ever put this better than Cardinal Newman. In the dream of Gerontius, he wrote, learn that the flame of everlasting love doth burn ere it transform. When then, if such thy lot, thou seest thy judge, the sight of him will kindle in thy heart all tender, gracious, reverential thoughts. Thou wilt be sick with love and yearn for him. That one so sweet should ever have placed himself at disadvantage such as to be used so vilely by a being so vile as thee. And thou wilt hate and loathe thyself. For though now sinless, thou wilt feel that thou hast sinned as never thou didst feel, and wilt desire to slink away and hide thee from his sight. And yet wilt have a longing, ay, to dwell within the beauty of his countenance. And these two pains, so counter and so keen, the longing for him when thou seest him not, the shame of self at thought of seeing him, will be thy veriest, sharpest purgatory. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen. For more information about this series, contact St. Joseph Communications at 1-800-526-2151. And outside the U.S., call 818-331-3549, and please join us again next time for Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you. This has been Life is Worth Living with Archbishop Fulton Sheen on EWTN Global Catholic Radio. God love you.