Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Purgatory: A Likely Reality

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotty and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
(Hamlet, 1.5.15-20)

These words come from Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet. The ghost of Hamlet’s father is here referring to his experience in Purgatory. I believe in Purgatory, but most Protestants dismiss it, I think, for two reasons:

1) Their idea of purgatory is a straw man. That is, they see it as a special holding place where Christians will be sufficiently punished for residual sin in their lives – perhaps any sin they failed to confess before dying.

2) They claim there is no scriptural support for it.

If Purgatory must be defined as Reason 1 above, then I also dismiss it. That is Purgatory’s straw man. But what if the purpose of purgatory was not punishment, but necessary adjustments of the soul (that happen to hurt)? We Christians all agree the Blood of Jesus cleans us. So why do we need to suffer when the Blood has done its work? Well, what if the application of the Blood is what hurts? What if the sinner, in his filthy state naturally experiences pain when he gets closer to a spotless and perfect God? This harmonizes with very many Christians' experiences on earth – we are even warned in the Bible that following Jesus results in suffering. C. S. Lewis, one of Christianity’s most celebrated apologists, believed there was a purgatory. He wrote:

Our souls demand Purgatory, don't they? Would it not break the heart if God said to us, "It is true, my son, that your breath smells and your rags drip with mud and slime, but we are charitable here and no one will upbraid you. Enter into the joy"? Should we not reply, "With submission, sir, and if there is no objection, I'd rather be cleaned first." "It may hurt, you know"--"Even so, sir." I assume that the process of purification will normally involve suffering. Partly from tradition; partly because most real good that has been done to me in this life has involved it. But I don't think suffering is the purpose of purgation. (Letters to Malcom, p. 108-109)

Grieving over his deceased wife, he also wrote:

They tell me H. is happy now . . . What makes them so sure of this? . . . why are they so sure that all anguish ends with death? 'Because she is in God's hands.' But if so, she was in God's hands all the time, and I have seen what they did to her here. Do they suddenly become gentler to us the moment we are out of the body? And if so, why? (A Grief Observed, p. 27)

I have not yet suffered in the way Lewis describes. But his logic for the purification process hurting is sound – and that would make purgatory a real thing. I’m convinced though, if it exists, it is not for punishment's sake – not for the purpose of giving us pain. Pain would only be a side effect of the greater purpose of purification.

As for the claim that there is no scriptural support for Purgatory, I disagree. Suffering is a major theme all throughout the NT. One could say there’s no scriptural backing that all these references to suffering for Christ are only in this life. People may say the word Purgatory is not found anywhere in the Bible. But neither is Trinity, and we Christians believe in that. As for the no-more-tears promise in Revelation 21, I would point out this is specifically referring to the new creation which is in the context of the last chapters of Revelation. This new creation contextually represents a time/place not yet achieved, even for the deceased.

Yes, I believe there is such a thing as Purgatory – but it’s not the kind of purgatory that all Protestants envision.

I see it more as a process than a holding place – a process that can begin here on earth and perhaps cease some time after death outside our natural bodies. And, I think God would be holding our hand through it too, almost like a parent sooths an infant getting vaccinated. I also imagine it would be different for every person. Here’s why I think that.

I’ve noticed that Christians who have suffered in the most awful ways seem to have a firmer faith -- a deeper relationship with God and greater joy than those of us who have suffered very little. I think their suffering has much to do with their spiritual maturity and advancement. I think suffering sharpens and refines, (at least in the old order). And God, I believe, has an idea of where he wants each of us to be spiritually. I believe some people get closer to that mark while here on earth than others. They learn through their suffering here, what others don’t learn before death. So perhaps, the purification process (what Protestants call sanctification, not to be confused with justification) is complete on the other side of death. This makes sense, since everyone agrees that no person reaches perfection in this life. Those who suffered more on earth would naturally have less “polishing” to undergo than say, someone who lived a posh, comfortable life, never being forced through pain to experience harsh realities and ask hard questions.

This idea of suffering after death doesn’t bother me at all because I think of people like Dietrich Bonheoffer -- a Christian who suffered the fate of European Jews during the Holocaust because he risked his life to save them. Because he suffered greatly, his reward must be great. I compare him, and other renowned martyrs, to myself and notice the obvious differences. I have never been physically persecuted for my belief, never had to wonder where my next meal will come from and never been without air conditioned housing. I realize this and I think, “I am missing out on some real life lessons that could be of great spiritual benefit.” But then, I’m still unwilling to thrust myself into a situation that would cause suffering. I don’t want to suffer, but when I see how it shapes other people, I do want the results. If intense suffering is what made Bonheoffer and other Saints into the spiritual giants they became, there is no reason to dismiss we all might experience our share of suffering to get there – whether that be on this side of death, or the other.