Praying for the dead: Indulgences, the millennium and the Jubilee.

In the month of November Catholics pray for the dead. November 1 is All Saints' Day; November 2, All Souls'. We speak of the Church Suffering (purgatory), the Church Struggling (the living), and the Church Triumphant (the saints). Together these three make up the Catholic Church which has Christ as her Head.

Late last December, I picked up a newspaper and learned that our Holy Father had issued a document, Incarnationis mysterium, on the question of indulgences. The occasion for issuing the document, the article said, was as part of our spiritual preparation for the Jubilee year of the Millennium.

The author of the article followed all the journalistic canons for the writing of such an article. She made some general comments about the document and then focused in on the controversial question of indulgences. In order to give an even-handed treatment, she interviewed both a Catholic and a Protestant theologian.

Her explanation of indulgences was clothed in banking terms. She wrote: "In Catholic doctrine, an indulgence is a sort of a loan against the Church's treasury of grace, allowing a sinner relief from the purgatorial cleansing (of the consequences of this life) of a sin that has already been forgiven." The rest of the article added little of substance to this explanation.

I admired her effort, but had to acknowledge my disappointment. The author made a valiant effort to capture the essence of this issue within the severe limitations imposed by a short article. In my estimation, the end product did not do justice to the importance of the issues raised. I was left with the impression that indulgences were something like the trinkets one can buy to decorate the dashboard of one's car. "If this is your thing, well and good, but if you do not care for such ornaments, your car will run just fine without them." My nagging dissatisfaction continued to pursue me until I decided to purge myself by writing about it.

A tragedy

If my memory serves me correctly, the year was 1982. The place was a small town in northwestern Saskatchewan. It was late winter. A thaw provided just the right kind of snow to make snowballs. Some elementary school children exchanged a flurry of snowballs. One snowball partially mixed with ice struck a 12-year-old boy behind the ear. Unknown to anyone, he had developed a brain tumour at that very spot. At any other time, the snowball would have been nothing more than an annoyance, but it happened to strike a critical area. The results were tragic. Within a short time, the boy was dead.

The boy's father was a local Protestant minister. He was widely known and well-liked and counted a number of friends within the Catholic community. One of these friends sent him a sympathy card indicating that she would have a Mass said for his son. The minister thanked her for the card and went on to express his own theological interpretation of the situation. He stated that he knew his son was already enjoying life with Jesus and added: "Since the Protestant Reformation, we no longer pray for our dead."

The Protestant pastor's reaction is understandable. Martin Luther was one of the pillars of the Protestant Reformation. He taught that nature is fundamentally and totally corrupt. He also contended that when we die we are introduced into God's presence with our sinful nature, but we are clothed in the righteousness of Jesus Christ. This makes us acceptable in God's sight because God does not look upon our sinfulness, but on the righteousness of His Son. In other words, since we have been reconciled to God by forgiveness of our sins, we are worthy to live eternally in the presence of the All-Holy God.

The holiness of God

On this point, the Catholic teaching has a whole other dimension to offer. At one point in the Mass, we say: "Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might...." This leads us into the Eucharistic Prayer and our encounter with the All-Holy God in His sublime sacrifice. When we do this, we are repeating the cry of the seraphim in the presence of God. They cover their eyes to avoid seeing the overwhelming glory of God and recite: Holy, holy, holy...(Isaiah 6:3). The prophet Isaiah was granted this vision. His spontaneous reaction was to bemoan his sinfulness and to yearn for purification.

The holiness of God is a major theme in the Old Testament. Moses desired to see the glory of God. God denied him that privilege because it would have been too much for him. He allowed Moses only an indirect glimpse. "When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft on the rock and shield you with my hand while I pass by. Then I will take my hand away and you shall see the back of me; but my face is not to be seen" (Exodus 33:22-23).

The prophet Elijah had the same experience. God summoned him to meet him on Mount Horeb. When God manifested Himself, Elijah was in a cave on the mountainside. The prophet heard a gentle breeze. "And when Elijah heard this, he covered his face with his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave"(1 Kings 19:13). Then, God spoke to him. Out of respect for the holiness of God and with awareness of their own creaturely fragility compared to the overpowering glory of God, the seraphim, Moses, and Elijah did not look upon God because they knew they could not stand the weight of His glory.

In the book of Leviticus, chapter 19:2, God commanded Israel: "Be ye holy, for I, your God, am holy." Jesus rephrased that command when he told his listeners: "You must therefore be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48).

How to interpret this?

Classical Catholic theology has interpreted this longstanding Biblical theme of the holiness of God in a very concrete way. The position taken is that since human beings are made in the image of God, their destiny is to reflect that image as perfectly as possible. Consequently if, at the moment of death, individuals go to meet their God with His image in them marred and distorted by sin, that image will have to be restored before the individual can live eternally in the presence of the All-Holy God.

Achieving this state will entail suffering. We have all experienced the suffering associated with the struggle to live a virtuous life. Saint Paul compared it to the competition engaged in by an athlete. He told the Philippians: "All I can say is that I forget the past and I strain ahead for what is still to come; I am racing for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upward to receive in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:14-15).

For the individual to dwell in the presence of the All-Holy God, he or she must have achieved the state of reflecting perfectly the image of God inherent in them. It will not be enough to have simply competed in the race; they will have had to become the absolute best they could be within their limitations as creatures. This is not just being an athlete; it means being an athlete of Olympian calibre.

The basis for this teaching is that when we are admitted to the presence of God, we will not approach Him with any substitute or imputed holiness. We will be admitted into God's presence only when we reflect as perfectly as our limited natures will allow the image of God inherent in us. That means we must reflect the truth of God in all aspects of our being; our love must perfectly reflect His; our goodness must correspond to His goodness to the limit of our abilities.

And so it will be with all the attributes of God. The flip side of this coin is that if we die in a state which does not perfectly reflect the image of God, there will have to be a limited time in which we undergo a transforming process to enable us to attain to that state when we can stand in the sight of God who "even with His angels 'has fault to find" (Job 4:18).

Purgatory and prayer for the dead

To this transforming process, Catholic theology has given the name Purgatory. Here is what the Catholic Catechism has to say about Purgatory: "All who die in God's grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of Heaven. The Church gives the name Purgatory to this final purification of the elect which is entirely different from the punishment of the damned"(#1030-103 1).

Why pray for the dead? The answer is rather obvious: to help them complete as swiftly as possible their purification process in order to hurry them on to the presence of God, the object for which their whole being yearns. Our prayers are of capital importance at this stage. After death, the individual undergoes judgement (Hebrews 9:27). Once an individual has undergone divine judgement, there is no more possibility of sinning or of any meritorious act either. They have passed from the reign of God's mercy to the reign of God's justice. Their sentence of purification is fixed. Their only source of help comes from those who can still benefit from God's mercy, the people who are still members of the Church Militant. When we pray for the souls in Purgatory, intercede for them, gain indulgences for them, we are helping those who cannot help themselves.

How important is it to pray for the souls in purgatory? From their point of view, it is crucial.

A vision and a museum

In Rome, Italy, on the west bank of the Tiber between the bridge called Ponte Cavour and the bridge known as Ponte Umberto, there stands a small neogothic church. It is called Il Sacre Cuore del Suffragio (Sacred Heart of Prayer for the Poor Souls) and was built in 1890. It is one block north of II Palazzo di Giustitia (the Italian Supreme Court Building) and stands as a testimony of justice of quite another kind.

Once, shortly before the turn of the 20th century, a French priest was visiting Rome. He happened to be near the Church of the Poor Souls and stopped for a visit. He was astonished to see the main altar enveloped in flames. In this sea of flames, he saw many human forms writhing in agony. The flames disappeared; there was no trace of fire found on the altar or in the sanctuary, but the priest's life was changed forever. He knew that he had been granted a vision of the poor souls in Purgatory.

From that time on, he set about tracking down and investigating any stories associated with the poor souls. A small part of his work can still be seen in the sacristy of that church. The collection is known as the Museum of the Poor Souls. It consists of a large case mounted on the wall to house some two dozen different articles all related in some way to the souls in Purgatory.

It has been many years since I visited that museum, but one of the articles that still stands out in my mind is a man's nightcap. As I learned from several years of living in Europe, the nightcap was not a fashion statement; in the days before central heating, it was a way of keeping your head warm at night in stone houses that were often damp and always cold. The distinctive feature of this nightcap is that it bears upon it the imprint of a human hand. What is extraordinary is that the hand print is entirely outlined by scorch marks!

The story of the nightcap runs like this. Mr. Nightcap--for lack of a better name--was married. His wife died. One night several months later, he had a vision of her. She was in obvious distress. Since he was a religious man, he suspected that this was his wife's soul suffering in Purgatory. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he asked her for a sign to help him understand her distress. In answer, she took hold of his nightcap. The shock he experienced rendered him unconscious for some time. When he recovered, the confirmation of his wife's visit was the scorch marks on his nightcap.

There are two other articles of a dramatically similar nature. One is the cover of a prayer book. On it are burned the imprint of the five fingers of someone's right hand. The story of the book is that the fingerprints belonged to a poor soul from Purgatory who appeared to a friend to ask for prayers. He left the imprint of his fingers as an indication of his need of prayer. The other article is a portion of a wooden table top. In it are burned the full palm and fingers of one more unfortunate poor soul seeking the help of a friend's prayers.

Is it fire?

These stories lead us to ask: "Are the souls in Purgatory tormented by fire?" Whatever else we can say from these stories, we can say that the suffering of the poor souls is intense. No matter what the source of their sufferings may be, it seems that the best way of expressing its power and intensity is to compare it to fire.

The purifying force of fire is proverbial and graphically expressed in our language. Expressions such as "the furnace of suffering" and "the crucible of pain" are all related to fire and its purifying power. They give us an image of two important aspects of Purgatory: suffering and purification.

If the torment is terrible and can be compared to the action of fire, how does this differ from the classical description of Hell? The Catholic Catechism assures us: "...this final purification of the elect [in Purgatory]...is entirely different from the punishment of the damned" (#1031). One essential difference is that the punishment of Purgatory is temporal. That is, it can be measured in time; it has a beginning and has an end. The punishments of Hell are eternal. They have a beginning, but no end. They last forever.

Indulgences

Now, how about indulgences? The Catholic Catechism gives us the following definition of an indulgence: "An indulgence is a remission before God of the temporal punishment due to sins whose guilt has already been forgiven, which the faithful Christian who is duly disposed gains under certain prescribed conditions through the action of the Church which, as the minister of redemption, dispenses and applies with authority the treasury of the satisfactions of Christ and the saints" (#1471).

From this we can conclude that through our prayers and good works we can gain indulgences to shorten our time of purification after death, if we fulfill the required conditions.

The Catechism continues: "An indulgence is partial or plenary according as it removes either part or all of the temporal punishment due to sin" (#1471).

How can we best understand this distinction of a plenary and a partial indulgence? Perhaps this example can help. When Jesus was dying on the cross, one of the criminals crucified with Him repented and pleaded: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus replied: "Today, you will be with me in Paradise" (Luke 23: 42-43). If this was not the granting of a plenary indulgence, it was the next thing to it.

The man dying on the cross admitted that his punishment was just. He told the other criminal: "In our case, we deserved it; we are paying for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong" (Luke 23:42). It would be safe to say that at the moment of death, this man--tradition has given him the name Dismas--was more than a little short of the holiness he would need to stand in the sight of the All-Holy God. He had a good deal of temporal punishment being lavished on him through the merciful love of Christ. By the time the two criminals died, evening was hard upon the disciples of Jesus and they had to rush to bury Jesus before sundown. If the Good Thief escaped Purgatory completely, he did it through a plenary indulgence granted to him by Jesus. If he did spend any time in Purgatory, it was no more than the period between the time of his death and the setting of the sun.

Many Catholics have had the opportunity at various times in their lives to gain a plenary indulgence for themselves. (We cannot gain indulgences for others still living.) If we are among those who have had that opportunity and have not achieved it, it might simply be that we were not pure enough in our own internal dispositions or we neglected to properly fulfil the prayers and works required as conditions to gain the indulgence. In such cases, we may not have gained a plenary indulgence, but we would have gained at least a partial one. In the case of indulgences for the souls in Purgatory, account must be taken also of God's will in particular cases. Indulgences for the dead are granted per modum suffrigi, that is, to be applied as God sees fit.

As we strive to be reconciled to each other and to God, we reach up to Him. In His mercy, He reaches down to us. That is how indulgences become an essential element of the Jubilee Year. By means of indulgences, we avail ourselves of God's mercy and, through His grace, remove some of the obstacles that could delay our entrance into the fullness of life with Him.

Although the Holy Father stresses personal conversion and concern for our own salvation, we would be misinterpreting his message if we concentrated on gaining indulgences as if we were making sure only that our account was more in the black before we died. (Indulgences cannot get us into the black, but only more into it.) Once we are in the state of grace, indulgences do act as a sort of spiritual insurance, which is a good thing. He urges us to share the treasures of God's mercy by gaining indulgences for the souls in Purgatory as well. "This establishes among the faithful a marvellous exchange of spiritual gifts in virtue of which the holiness of one benefits others in a way far exceeding the harm which the sin had inflicted upon others." Our prayers for the souls in Purgatory would be a way of strengthening the bonds within the Communion of Saints.

The Holy Father sums it up by urging "that there may be a renewed commitment to Christian witness in the world of the next Millennium--let faith be refreshed, let hope increase, and let charity exert itself still more." To that we can only say: "Amen."

Fr. Lalonde, formerly editor of Our Family magazine, is an Oblate of Mary Immaculate who writes from Manitoba.