PURGATORY AND PRAYERS FOR THE DEAD.
The Catholic Church teaches that, besides a place of eternal torments for
the wicked and of everlasting rest for the righteous, there exists in the
next life a middle state of temporary punishment, allotted for those who
have died in venial sin, or who have not satisfied the justice of God for
sins already forgiven. She also teaches us that, although the souls
consigned to this intermediate state, commonly called purgatory, cannot
help themselves, they may be aided by the suffrages of the faithful on
earth. The existence of purgatory naturally implies the correlative
dogma—the utility of praying for the dead—for the souls consigned to this
middle state have not reached the term of their journey. They are still
exiles from heaven and fit subjects for Divine clemency.
The doctrine of an intermediate state is thus succinctly asserted by the
Council of Trent: “There is a Purgatory, and souls there detained, are
helped by the prayers of the faithful, and especially by the acceptable
Sacrifice of the Altar.”(281)
It is to be noted that the Council studiously abstains from specifying the
nature of the expiating sufferings endured therein.
Is it not strange that this cherished doctrine should also be called in
question by the leveling innovators of the sixteenth century, when we
consider that it is clearly taught in the Old Testament; that it is, at
least, insinuated in the New Testament; that it is unanimously proclaimed
by the Fathers of the Church; that it is embodied in all the ancient
liturgies of the Oriental and the Western church, and that it is a
doctrine alike consonant with our reason and eminently consoling to the
human heart?
First—It is a doctrine plainly contained in the Old Testament and piously
practiced by the Hebrew people. At the close of an engagement which Judas
Machabeus had with the enemy he ordered prayers and sacrifices to be
offered up for his slain comrades. “And making a gathering, he sent twelve
thousand drachms of silver to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be offered for
the sins of the dead, thinking well and religiously concerning the
resurrection. For, if he had not hoped that they that were slain should
rise again, it would have seemed superfluous and vain to pray for the
dead.... It is, therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the
dead, that they may be loosed from sins.”(282)
These words are so forcible that no comment of mine could render them
clearer. The passage proved a great stumbling-block to the Reformers.
Finding that they could not by any evasion weaken the force of the text,
they impiously threw overboard the Books of Machabees, like a man who
assassinates a hostile witness, or like the Jews who sought to kill
Lazarus, lest his resurrection should be a testimony in favor of Christ,
and pretended that the two books of Machabees were apocryphal. And yet
they have precisely the same authority as the Gospel of St. Matthew or any
other portion of the Bible, for the canonicity of the Holy Scriptures
rests solely on the authority of the Catholic Church, which proclaimed
them inspired.
But even admitting, for the sake of argument, that the Books of Machabees
were not entitled to be ranked among the canonical Books of Holy
Scripture, no one, at least, has ever denied that they are truthful
historical monuments, and as such that they serve to demonstrate that it
was a prevailing practice among the Hebrew people, as it is with us, to
offer up prayers and sacrifices for the dead.
Second—When our Savior, the Founder of the New Law, appeared on earth, He
came to lop off those excrescences which had grown on the body of the
Jewish ecclesiastical code, and to purify the Jewish Church from those
human traditions which, in the course of time, became like tares mixed
with the wheat of sound doctrine. For instance, He condemns the Pharisees
for prohibiting the performance of works of charity on the Sabbath day,
and in the twenty-third chapter of St. Matthew He cites against them a
long catalogue of innovations in doctrine and discipline.
But did our Lord, at any time, reprove the Jews for their belief in a
middle state, or for praying for the dead, a practice which, to His
knowledge, prevailed among the people? Never. On the contrary, more than
once both He and the Apostle of the Gentiles insinuate the doctrine of
purgatory.
Our Savior says: “Whosoever shall speak a word against the Son of man it
shall be forgiven him. But he that shall speak against the Holy Ghost it
shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world nor in the world to
come.”(283) When our Savior declares that a sin against the Holy Ghost
shall not be forgiven in the next life, He evidently leaves us to infer
that there are some sins which will be pardoned in the life to come. Now
in the next life, sins cannot be forgiven in heaven, for, nothing defiled
can enter there; nor can they be forgiven in hell, for, out of hell there
is no redemption. They must, therefore, be pardoned in the intermediate
state of Purgatory.
St. Paul tells us that “every man’s work shall be manifest” on the Lord’s
day. “The fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s
work abide,” that is, if his works are holy, “he shall receive a reward.
If any man’s work burn,” that is, if his works are faulty and imperfect,
“he shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by
fire.”(284) His soul will be ultimately saved, but he shall suffer, for a
temporary duration, in the purifying flames of Purgatory.
This interpretation is not mine. It is the unanimous voice of the Fathers
of Christendom. And who are they that have removed the time-honored
landmarks of Christian faith by rejecting the doctrine of purgatory? They
are discontented churchmen impatient of the religious yoke, men who
appeared on the stage sixteen hundred years after the foundation of
Christianity. Judge you, reader, whom you ought to follow. If you want to
know the true import of a vital question in the Constitution, would you
not follow the decision of a Story, a Jefferson, a Marshall, a Taney,
jurists and statesmen, who were the recognized expounders of the
Constitution? Would you not prefer their opinion to that of political
demagogues, who have neither learning, nor authority, nor history to
support them, but some selfish end to further? Now, the same motive which
you have for rejecting the opinion of an ignorant politician and embracing
that of eminent jurists, on a constitutional question, impels you to cast
aside the novelties of religious innovators and to follow the unanimous
sentiments of the Fathers in reference to the subject of purgatory.
Third—I would wish to place before you extended extracts from the writings
of the early Fathers of the Church bearing upon this subject; but I must
content myself with quoting a few of the most prominent lights of
primitive Christianity.
Tertullian, who lived in the second century, says that “the faithful wife
will pray for the soul of her deceased husband, particularly on the
anniversary day of his falling asleep (death). And if she fail to do so
she hath repudiated her husband as far as in her lies.”(285)
Eusebius, the historian (fourth century), describing the funeral of
Constantine the Great, says that the body of the blessed prince was placed
on a lofty bier, and the ministers of God and the multitude of the people,
with tears and much lamentation, offered up prayers and sacrifice for the
repose of his soul. He adds that this was done in accordance with the
desires of that religious monarch, who had erected in Constantinople the
great church in honor of the Apostles, so that after his death the
faithful might there remember him.(286)
St. Cyril of Jerusalem, fourth century, writes: “We commemorate the Holy
Fathers, and Bishops, and all who have fallen asleep from amongst us,
believing that the supplications which we present will be of great
assistance to their souls, while the holy and tremendous Sacrifice is
offered up.” He answers by an illustration those that might be disposed to
doubt the efficacy of prayers for the dead: “If a king had banished
certain persons who had offended him, and their relations, having woven a
crown, should offer it to him in behalf of those under his vengeance,
would he not grant a respite to their punishments? So we, in offering up a
crown of prayers in behalf of those who have fallen asleep, will obtain
for them forgiveness through the merits of Christ.”(287)
St. Ephrem, in the same century, says: “I conjure you, my brethren and
friends, in the name of that God who commands me to leave you, to remember
me when you assemble to pray. Do not bury me with perfumes. Give them not
to me, but to God. Me, conceived in sorrows, bury with lamentations, and
instead of perfumes assist me with your prayers; for the dead are
benefited by the prayers of living Saints.”(288)
St. Ambrose (same century), on the death of the Emperors Gratian and
Valentinian, says: “Blessed shall both of you be (Gratian and
Valentinian), if my prayers can avail anything. No day shall pass you over
in silence. No prayer of mine shall omit to honor you. No night shall
hurry by without bestowing on you a mention in my prayers. In every one of
the oblations will I remember you.” On the death of the Emperor Theodosius
he offers the following prayer: “Give perfect rest to Thy servant
Theodosius, that rest which Thou hast prepared for Thy Saints. May his
soul return thither whence it descended, where it cannot feel the sting of
death.... I loved him and therefore will I follow him, even unto the land
of the living. Nor will I leave him until, by tears and prayers, I shall
lead him ... unto the holy mountain of the Lord, where is life undying,
where corruption is not, nor sighing nor mourning.”(289)
St. Jerome, in the same century, in a letter of condolence to Pammachius,
on the death of his wife Paulina, writes: “Other husbands strew violets
and roses on the graves of their wives. Our Pammachius bedews the hallowed
dust of Paulina with balsams of alms.”(290)
St. Chrysostom writes: “It was not without good reason _ordained by the
Apostles_ that mention should be made of the dead in the tremendous
mysteries, because they knew well that they would receive great benefit
from it.”(291)
St. Augustine, who lived in the beginning of the fifth century, relates
that when his mother was at the point of death she made this last request
of him: “Lay this body anywhere; let not the care of it in anyway disturb
you. This only I request of you, that you would remember me at the altar
of the Lord, wherever you be.”
And that pious son prays for his mother’s soul in the most impassioned
language: “I therefore,” he says, “O God of my heart, do now beseech Thee
for the sins of my mother. Hear me through the medicine of the wounds that
hung upon the wood.... May she, then, be in peace with her husband.... And
inspire, my Lord, ... Thy servants, my brethren, whom with voice and heart
and pen I serve, that as many as shall read these words may remember at
Thy altar, Monica, Thy servant....”(292)
These are but a few specimens of the unanimous voice of the Fathers
regarding the salutary practice of praying for the dead.
You now perceive that this devotion is not an invention of modern times,
but a doctrine universally enforced in the first and purest ages of the
Church.
You see that praying for the dead was not a devotion cautiously
recommended by some obscure or visionary writer, but an act of religion
preached and inculcated by all the great Doctors and Fathers of the
Church, who are the recognized expounders of the Christian religion.
You see them, too, inculcating this doctrine not as a cold and abstract
principle, but as an imperative act of daily piety, and embodying it in
their ordinary exercises of devotion.
They prayed for the dead in their morning and evening devotions. They
prayed for them in their daily office, and in the Sacrifice of the Mass.
They asked the prayers of the congregation for the souls of the deceased
in the public services of Sunday. On the monuments which were erected to
the dead, some of which are preserved even to this day, epitaphs were
inscribed, earnestly invoking for their souls the prayers of the living.
How gratifying it is to our Catholic hearts that a devotion so soothing to
afflicted spirits is at the same time so firmly grounded on the tradition
of ages!
Fourth—That the practice of praying for the dead has descended from
Apostolic times is evident also from the _Liturgies_ of the Church. A
Liturgy is the established formulary of public worship, containing the
authorized prayers of the Church. The Missal, or Mass-book, for instance,
which you see on our altars, contains a portion of the Liturgy of the
Catholic Church. The principal Liturgies are the Liturgy of St. James the
Apostle, who founded the Church of Jerusalem; the Liturgy of St. Mark the
Evangelist, founder of the Church of Alexandria, and the Liturgy of St.
Peter, who established the Church in Rome. These Liturgies are called
after the Apostles who compiled them. There are, besides, the Liturgies of
St. Chrysostom and St. Basil, which are chiefly based on the model of that
of St. James.
Now, all these Liturgies, without exception, have prayers for the dead,
and their providential preservation serves as another triumphant
vindication of the venerable antiquity of this Catholic doctrine.
The Eastern and the Western churches were happily united until the fourth
and fifth centuries, when the heresiarchs Arius, Nestorius and Eutyches
withdrew millions of souls from the centre of unity. The followers of
these sects were called, after their founders, Arians, Nestorians and
Eutychians, and from that day to the present the two latter bodies have
formed distinct communions, being separated from the Catholic Church in
the East, just as the Protestant churches are separated from her in the
West.
The Greek schismatic church, of which the present Russo-Greek church is
the offspring, severed her connection with the See of Rome in the ninth
century.
But in leaving the Catholic Church these Eastern sects retained the old
Liturgies, which they use to this day, as I shall presently demonstrate.
During my sojourn in Rome at the Ecumenical Council I devoted a great deal
of my leisure time to the examination of the various Liturgies of the
schismatic churches of the East. I found in all of them formulas of
prayers for the dead almost identical with that of the Roman Missal:
“Remember, O Lord, Thy servants who are gone before us with the sign of
faith, and sleep in peace. To these, O Lord, and to all who rest in Christ
grant, we beseech Thee, a place of refreshment, light and peace, through
the same Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Not content with studying their books, I called upon the Oriental
Patriarchs and Bishops in communion with the See of Rome, who belong to
the Armenian, the Chaldean, the Coptic, the Maronite and Syriac rites.
They all assured me that the schismatic Christians of the East among whom
they live have, without exception, prayers and sacrifices for the dead.
Now, I ask, when could those Eastern sects have commenced to adopt the
Catholic practice of praying for the dead? They could not have received it
from us since the ninth century, because the Greek church separated from
us then and has had no communion with us since that time, except at
intervals, up to the twelfth century. Nor could they have adopted the
practice since the fourth or fifth century, inasmuch as the Arians,
Nestorians and Eutychians have had no religious communication with us
since that period. Therefore, in common with us, they received this
doctrine from the Apostles. If men living in different countries drink
wine having the same flavor and taste and color, the inference is that the
wine was made from the same species of grape. So must we conclude that
this refreshing doctrine of intercession for the dead has its root in the
Apostolic tree of knowledge planted by our Savior.
Fifth—I have already spoken of the devotion of the ancient Jewish church
to the souls of the departed. But perhaps you are not aware that the Jews
retain to this day, in their Liturgy, the pious practice of praying for
the dead. Yet such in reality is the case.
Amid all the wanderings and vicissitudes of life, though dismembered and
dispersed like sheep without a shepherd over the face of the globe, the
children of Israel have never forgotten or neglected the sacred duty of
praying for their deceased brethren.
Unwilling to make this assertion without the strongest evidence, I
procured from a Jewish convert an authorized Prayer-Book of the Hebrew
church, from which I extract the following formula of prayers which are
prescribed for funerals: “Departed brother! mayest thou find open the
gates of heaven, and see the city of peace and the dwellings of safety,
and meet the ministering angels hastening joyfully toward thee. And may
the High Priest stand to receive thee, and go thou to the end, rest in
peace, and rise again into life. May the repose established in the
celestial abode ... be the lot, dwelling and the resting-place of the soul
of our deceased brother (whom the Spirit of the Lord may guide into
Paradise), who departed from this world, according to the will of God, the
Lord of heaven and earth. May the supreme King of kings, through His
infinite mercy, hide him under the shadow of His wing. May He raise him at
the end of his days and cause him to drink of the stream of His
delights.”(293)
Among the many-sided merits of Shakespeare may be mentioned his happy
faculty of portraying to life the manners and customs and traditional
faith of the times which he describes. How deep-rooted in the Christian
heart in pre-Reformation times, was the belief in Purgatory, may be
inferred from a passage in Hamlet who probably lived in the early part of
the eighth century. Thus speaks to Hamlet the spirit of his murdered
father:
“I am thy father’s spirit,
Doom’d for a certain time to walk the night;
And for the day confin’d too fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg’d away.”(294)
I am happy to say that the more advanced and enlightened members of the
Episcopalian church are steadily returning to the faith of their
fore-fathers regarding prayers for the dead. An acquaintance of mine, once
a distinguished clergyman of the Episcopal communion, but now a convert,
informed me that hundreds of Protestant clergymen in this country, and
particularly in England, have a firm belief in the efficacy of prayers for
the dead, but for well-known reasons they are reserved in the expression
of their faith. He easily convinced me of the truth of his assertion,
particularly as far as the Church of England is concerned, by sending me
six different works published in London, all bearing on the subject of
Purgatory. These books are printed under the auspices of the Protestant
Episcopal church; they all contain prayers for the dead and prove, from
Catholic grounds, the existence of a middle state after death and the duty
of praying for our deceased brethren.(295)
To sum up, we see the practice of praying for the dead enforced in the
ancient Hebrew church and in the Jewish synagogue of today. We see it
proclaimed age after age by all the Fathers of Christendom. We see it
incorporated in every one of the ancient Liturgies of the East and of the
West. We see it zealously taught by the Russian church of today, and by
that immense family of schismatic Christians scattered over the East. We
behold it, in fine, a cherished devotion of three hundred millions of
Catholics, as well as of a respectable portion of the Episcopal church.
Would it not, my friend, be the height of rashness and presumption in you
to prefer your private opinion to this immense weight of learning,
sanctity and authority? Would it not be impiety in you to stand aside with
sealed lips while the Christian world is sending up an unceasing _De
profundis_ for departed brethren? Would it not be cold and heartless in
you not to pray for your deceased friends, on account of prejudices which
have no grounds in Scripture, tradition or reason itself?
If a brother leaves you to cross the broad Atlantic, religion and
affection prompt you to pray for him during his absence. And if the same
brother crosses the narrow sea of death to pass to the shores of eternity,
why not pray for him then also? When he crosses the Atlantic his soul,
imprisoned in the flesh, is absent from you; when he passes the sea of
death his soul, released from the flesh, has gone from you. What
difference does this make with regard to the duty of your intercession?
For what is death? A mere separation of body and soul. The body, indeed,
dies, but the soul “lives and moves and has its being.” It continues after
death, as before, to think, to remember, to love. And do not God’s
dominion and mercy extend over that soul beyond the grave as well as as
this side of it? Who shall place the limits to God’s empire and say to
Him: “Thus far Thou shalt go and no farther?” Two thousand years after
Abraham’s death our Lord said: “I _am_ the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and
of Jacob. He _is_ not the God of the dead, but of the living.”(296)
If, then, it is profitable for you to pray for your brother in the flesh,
why should it be useless for you to pray for him out of the flesh? For
while he was living you prayed not for his body, but for his soul.
If this brother of yours dies with some slight stains upon his soul, a sin
of impatience, for instance, or an idle word, is he fit to enter heaven
with these blemishes upon his soul? No; the sanctity of God forbids it,
for “nothing defiled shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”(297) Will you
consign him, for these minor transgressions, to eternal torments with
adulterers and murderers? No; the justice and mercy of God forbid it.
Therefore, your common sense demands a middle place of expiation for the
purgation of the soul before it is worthy of enjoying the companionship of
God and His Saints.
God “will render to every man according to his works,”—to the pure and
unsullied everlasting bliss; to the reprobate eternal damnation; to souls
stained with minor faults a place of temporary purgation. I cannot recall
any doctrine of the Christian religion more consoling to the human heart
than the article of faith which teaches the efficacy of prayers for the
faithful departed. It robs death of its sting. It encircles the chamber of
mourning with a rainbow of hope. It assuages the bitterness of our sorrow,
and reconciles us to our loss. It keeps us in touch with the departed dead
as correspondence keeps us in touch with the absent living. It preserves
their memory fresh and green in our hearts.
It gives us that keen satisfaction which springs from the consciousness
that we can aid those loved ones who are gone before us by alleviating
their pains, shortening their exile, and hastening their entrance into
their true country.
It familiarizes us with the existence of a life beyond the grave, and with
the hope of being reunited with those whom we cherished on earth, and of
dwelling with them in that home where there is no separation, or sorrow,
or death, but eternal joy and peace and rest.
I have seen a devoted daughter minister with tender solicitude at the
sick-bed of a fond parent. Many an anxious day and sleepless night did she
watch at his bedside. She moistened the parched lips, and cooled the
fevered brow, and raised the drooping head on its pillow. Every change in
her patient for better or worse brought a corresponding sunshine or gloom
to her heart. It was filial love that prompted all this. Her father died
and she followed his remains to the grave. Though not a Catholic, standing
by the bier she burst those chains which a cruel religious prejudice had
wrought around her heart, and, rising superior to her sect, she cried out:
_Lord, have mercy on his soul_. It was the voice of nature and of
religion.
Oh, far from us a religion which would decree an eternal divorce between
the living and the dead. How consoling is it to the Catholic to think
that, in praying thus for his departed friend, his prayers are not in
violation of, but in accordance with, the voice of the Church; and that
as, like Augustine, he watches at the pillow of a dying mother, so like
Augustine, he can continue the same office of piety for her soul after she
is dead by praying for her! How cheering the reflection that the golden
link of prayer unites you still to those who “fell asleep in the Lord,”
that you can still speak to them and pray for them!
Tennyson grasps the Catholic feeling when he makes his hero, whose course
is run, thus address his surviving comrade, Sir Bedivere:
“I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within Himself make pure; but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If knowing God they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.”(298)
Oh! it is this thought that robs death of its sting and makes the
separation of friends endurable. If your departed friend needs not your
prayers, they are not lost, but, like the rain absorbed by the sun, and
descending again in fruitful showers on our fields, they will be gathered
by the Sun of justice, and will fall in refreshing showers of grace upon
your head: “Cast thy bread upon the running waters; for, after a long
time, thou shalt find it again.”(299)