The season of spooks and sprites and skeletons is upon us. And, while secular culture gravitates to the gore of death and the preparation leading up to Halloween festivities, the Catholic world contemplates the reality of our own mortality and deliberately sets aside time to pray for the departed.
All Hallows’ Eve, along with the subsequent feasts of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, ushers in a whole month devoted to remembering and praying for the dead. Praying for the eternal well-being of our deceased loved ones is the epitome of keeping their memory alive. It is also a sign of hope, of trusting in God’s mercy and in the fruitfulness of prayer, and of belief in the fact that life does not end in the shadow of death. Rather, what we perceive as a physical terminus is, in the eyes of faith, recognized as a transitus, a transition from our earthly existence to eternal life.
There are many reasons to hope for salvation, all of which find their foundation in divine mercy. Among these is the state of being that we have come to call Purgatory, which refers to a period of purification in preparation for the glory of Heaven.
The mere existence of Purgatory is an outstanding token of God’s generous mercy. Though He calls us to perfection (see Mt. 5:48), Our Lord understands our weakness and makes provision for those who try to live according to His Will but still fall short in various ways. The provision is this: Those souls who sought to lead good lives but are not yet perfect can be cleansed and prepared to look upon the face of God in Heaven. Thus, God’s judgment is not necessarily an automatic all-or-nothing, Heaven-or-Hell affair. God’s superabundance of grace can more than make up for the shortcomings of the less-than-perfect, which gives all of us hope.
This state of purification in the afterlife is known as Purgatory. The belief in Purgatory is a dogma, meaning that, unlike private revelation, it is a non-negotiable for Catholics. We are bound to believe it as a core truth of our Faith. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states:
All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death 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. The Church formulated her doctrine of faith on Purgatory especially at the Councils of Florence and Trent. The tradition of the Church, by reference to certain texts of Scripture, speaks of a cleansing fire… (CCC 1030–1031)
As the Catechism says, those who die in God’s grace are guaranteed Paradise but after further transformation. As with all important things in life, Heaven is something we have to work for. Many of us may well find ourselves laboring for personal holiness in Purgatory, striving to complete the race that was left unfinished in our earthly lives.
The Catechism also mentions the Councils of Florence and Trent, which took place from 1431 until 1445 and from 1545 to 1563, respectively. Does that mean the notion of Purgatory was a revolutionary fabrication of the Christians living in the Late Middle Ages? Hardly. The teaching on Purgatory didn’t spring out of nowhere. It isn’t a collective figment of Catholics’ imaginations—like some intangible ghost from long ago. It is rooted in Scripture (the most prominent passage being 2 Mac. 12:38–46) and, as noted above, it encapsulates a proper understanding of God’s ample mercy.
We also have extrabiblical proof of the early Christians’ belief in what we today call Purgatory. St. Perpetua, mother and martyr, serves as an excellent witness of this element of our Faith, and she lived many centuries before the Councils of Florence and Trent.
Perpetua’s name is familiar to many Catholics as it appears alongside that of St. Felicity in Eucharistic Prayer I at Mass. A resident of Carthage, Vibia Perpetua lived from the late second century until her public execution in the early third century. We have her personal reflections leading up to the time of her death, a historically significant record as it represents one of the earliest Christian texts that, by its own admission, was written by a woman. Already, Christians had a relatively clear understanding of the nature of Purgatory as evinced by a section found in Perpetua’s first-person account of her imprisonment:
A few days after, while we were all praying, suddenly in the midst of the prayer I uttered a word and named Dinocrates; and I was amazed because he had never come into my mind save then; and I sorrowed, remembering his fate. And straightway I knew that I was worthy, and that I ought to ask for him. And I began to pray for him long, and to groan unto the Lord. Immediately the same night, this was shown me.
I beheld Dinocrates coming forth from a dark place, where were many others also; being both hot and thirsty, his raiment foul, his color pale; and the wound on his face which he had when he died. This Dinocrates had been my brother in the flesh, seven years old, who being diseased with ulcers of the face had come to a horrible death, so that his death was abominated of all men. For him therefore I had made my prayer; and between him and me was a great gulf, so that either might not go to the other. There was moreover, in the same place where Dinocrates was, a font full of water, having its edge higher than was the boy’s stature; and Dinocrates stretched up as though to drink. I was sorry that the font had water in it, and yet for the height of the edge he might not drink.
And I awoke, and I knew that my brother was in travail. Yet I was confident I should ease his travail; and I prayed for him every day till we passed over into the camp prison. …And I prayed for him day and night with groans and tears, that he might be given me.
St. Perpetua remembers the suffering her little brother Dinocrates experienced in his body while on earth. She vividly recalls the marks made by the disease that afflicted him. But the space and conditions in which she sees Dinocrates in the vision are new. The child’s conditions being described as “both hot and thirsty” conforms to common visions and depictions of souls in Purgatory.
We can assume the place is hot, since Perpetua’s brother is affected by the heat. Recall that the Catechism says, “The tradition of the Church, by reference to certain texts of Scripture, speaks of a cleansing fire.” One such scriptural text is 1 Corinthians 3:11–15, a passage that refers to a consuming fire that, while it is part of the judgment upon a person’s works, will not be the individual’s undoing. Rather, “he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.”
A “fire” would account for Dinocrates’s being hot and thirsty. More broadly, heat represents a kind of discomfort—and thirst, a kind of longing or desire. (Think of Christ’s thirsting from the Cross, which was as much supernatural as it was bodily.) Dinocrates is in anguish because of the purification process, and amid his waiting he thirsts for the comfort that can be found only in God.
The gulf between Perpetua and her brother is evocative of the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. In this parable, Our Lord Jesus describes the comfort that the poor, mistreated man Lazarus experiences with Abraham in the afterlife; meanwhile, the rich man who failed to help Lazarus is tormented by flames and wishes Lazarus might “dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue” (Lk. 16:24). However, Abraham explains that one of the factors inhibiting such help is “a great chasm” between the comforted and the afflicted. Like the rich man in the parable, Dinocrates desires to satiate his thirst and escape the oppressive heat.
At least as far as the souls in Purgatory are concerned, something can bridge the gap between those living in this world and those suffering in the state of purification that leads to eternal happiness. We can help alleviate the suffering of those in Purgatory through prayers and sacrifices offered for these souls, such as the St. Gertrude Prayer for Souls in Purgatory and specific indulgences that can be applied to the faithful departed. This was a truth that St. Perpetua understood quite well, even 1,800 years ago.
Distressed by her vision, the saint prays for her deceased brother, understanding that such prayer can be meritorious in alleviating the boy’s sufferings. She is wholly “confident” that her prayers and sacrifices can do something to help. St. Perpetua’s consideration for the spiritual repose of her brother doesn’t end on a dreary or uncertain note. She continues:
On the day when we abode in the stocks, this was shown me. I saw that place which I had before seen, and Dinocrates clean of body, finely clothed, [in] comfort; and the font I had seen before, the edge of it being drawn to the boy’s navel; and he drew water thence which flowed without ceasing. And on the edge was a golden cup full of water; and Dinocrates came up and began to drink therefrom; which cup failed not. And being satisfied he departed away from the water and began to play as children will, joyfully. And I awoke. Then I understood that he was translated from his pains.
Another transitus—and a joyful one at that! This account of Perpetua’s illustrates several important facts about Purgatory. Firstly, that it exists. Secondly, that the early Christians shared a common understanding of this state of purification by which souls can be perfected for entry into Heaven. And thirdly, that our prayers for the dead do, in fact, make a difference.
Let us then pray for the deceased, both our loved ones and those we have not known, to keep their memory alive, confident that such prayers are actively helping the souls in Purgatory.
Image: Stained-glass window of Sts. Perpetua, Felicity and Saturus, Notre-Dame de Vierzon, 19th century. Photo: Gaetan Poix, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
