Category Archives: Last Things

Justice Scalia and Purgatory

Last Things, Purgatory, Sin

There is a story of a young priest who was asked to preside over a funeral of a man he did not know.  He met with the widow beforehand in order to learn some things about the man.  In order to break the ice, he said “I am sure your husband is in a better place,” to which the widow replied “the hell he is!”  Whether this story is apocryphal or not, we have all had the uncomfortable experience of being around someone who is very quick to canonize a person once they have died.  In fact, this is the one thing that touched me most about Fr. Paul Scalia’s homily during his father’s, Justice Antonin Scalia, funeral mass.  He absolutely refused to canonize (some call it “eulogizing”) his father because it was uncharitable and deprived him of the prayers he still needed.  This was clearly something Fr. Scalia learned from his father because the only place in his homily where he quoted his father directly was a letter the Justice once wrote to a Presbyterian minister about why he hated eulogies.  The Justice thought that “[E]ven when the deceased was an admirable person, indeed especially when the deceased was an admirable person, praise for his virtues can cause us to forget that we are praying for and giving thanks for God’s inexplicable mercy to a sinner.”  This habit of canonizing the dead really stems from a refusal to take the existence of Purgatory seriously or to downplay its significance.  Not only do we deprive the dead of our prayers, but we do not allow the reality of Purgatory to shape our lives as it should.  The truth of the matter is that even though it is often said tongue in cheek, Purgatory is not something we should strive for; even if it is the “mudroom” of Heaven.

In order to see the necessity of Purgatory, we have to make sure we are viewing the redemptive act of Christ through proper lenses.  Christ was not a penal substitute for us on the Cross.  An innocent man dying as punishment for a guilty man is no act of justice.  Instead, like the first Adam, Christ, the new Adam was man’s representative upon the Cross.  As representative He makes redemption possible, but only to the degree that we participate. This is certainly the way that St. Paul understood his own redemption when he told the Colossians that he “rejoiced in his sufferings because they complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col 1:24).  Christ’s representative sacrifice was perfect, what is lacking was his (our) participation.

While removing the eternal punishment for sin, Christ’s sacrifice leaves the temporal punishment for sin intact.  If Christ is only a penal substitute that paid the price for our sins, then the presence of suffering (and even death) in this world has no explanation.  Because sin really is our insistence to have things our own way, by suffering something that we don’t want, justice is restored in some way.  But the sin also causes imbalance in the person as well requiring that we accept the punishment freely as satisfaction for our sins to repair the personal disorder. This imbalance is felt in the sinner a way akin to rust which St. Thomas calls the “relics of sin.”   Because of these “dispositions caused by previous acts of sin…the penitent finds difficulty in doing deeds of virtue.”  It is this twofold dimension of the temporal punishment for sin that must be healed before one can enter the presence of God.

Suffering seen in light of temporal punishment shows forth the mercy of God.  The Catechism calls it “a grace” (CCC 1473).  St Thomas gives three reasons why God thought this fitting.  The first is that it helps us to understand the gravity of sin so as to help us avoid it in the future.  Because of the downward pull of concupiscence and the pleasure we derive from sin, we do not always recognize its evil.  By attaching temporal punishments to our sins, God mercifully keeps us from falling into further sin.

A second reason according to St. Thomas is that through His invitation to make satisfaction through the merits of Christ and by the grace of the Holy Spirit, God the Father makes us co-operators in our salvation.  God is raising up adopted sons and daughters not merely servants or slaves.  By participating in our own redemption, God treats us as He does His only begotten Son.

Finally, St Thomas says temporal punishments are necessary because sin in essence is a pampering of self.  When temporal afflictions are patiently endured, it teaches us not to pamper ourselves so as to be better prepared to make gifts of ourselves through our participation in the self-giving love of the Trinity.

BVM-and-Purgatory

If the temporal punishment for sin ultimately accrues because it is a means by which God makes us fit for heaven then the debt can remain after death but prior to entering the presence of God.  Even if Purgatory were not divinely revealed to us in Tradition and Sacred Scripture (2 Macc 13:43-46 shows the general Jewish belief in the doctrine and Mt 5:26 and 1Cor 3:13-15 show the Christian belief), reason would almost dictate that it be so.  One cannot reconcile the holiness, mercy, and justice of God without maintaining a place of purgation after death.

Ultimately one might not believe in Purgatory in this life, but will soon believe in it in the next life.  But it is equally damaging to not take it seriously enough during our pilgrimage on Earth.  No amount of suffering in this life can compare to the sufferings of Purgatory.  That is because in this life we can rely on the merits of Christ to increase the satisfaction for our sins.  The Holy Souls in Purgatory on the other hand can only settle their debt by what is called ‘satispassion’ or by suffering enough.  Because their only means of satisfaction is their own suffering, praying for the dead and obtaining indulgences for them becomes a supreme act of charity.  To not do so, amounts to an act of omission.

That is not the only thing however that makes Purgatory so hard.  The pains of purgatory are similar to those suffered by the damned in hell.  They suffer what is called the “pain of loss” which is the pain of being deprived of God, our true Good.  What intensifies the pain is the knowledge that it is venial sin and their punishments that could have been readily expiated in this life that separates them from God.  As the purifying effects are felt, the pain actually increases because their love is purified, making the loss of the beloved felt more acutely.

While not a definitive dogma of the Church, most theologians and Church Fathers (and the Council of Florence hints at it) also describe what is called the “pain of sense.”  This comes from the idea that St. Paul (1 Cor 3:11) says that some men will be saved through fire.

Since the souls in Purgatory are separated from their body, one might rightfully ask how something material like fire could cause pain.  What St. Thomas and the other Scholastics argue by way of analogy saying that the matter of the Sacraments, for example the water of Baptism, has a spiritual effect and therefore it must be possible.

Despite the suffering of the souls in Purgatory, the souls also are joyful.  Not only are they approaching God, but they know their love is being purified.  They are only too happy to make things right with their Beloved.  While there is still hope in the souls in Purgatory, it is different from the virtue of hope as we experience it on earth.  The holy souls in Purgatory are assured of reaching their heavenly homeland while the hope of those in the Church Militant is of one who is tending in the right direction.

By his carefully worded homily, Fr. Scalia did a great act of charity for his father.  He begged all those in attendance to pray for his final purification.  Because of the stage upon which this homily was spoken he really did the whole Church a great service.  No one could hear or read his homily and not re-examine their own views on Purgatory.  For that, there may be many souls who will be eternally grateful.

It Takes Only One?

Last Things, Moralilty, Theology

In his Encyclical on Moral Theology, St. John Paul II cautioned against falling into the theological loophole that is commonly called the “fundamental option.”  The general idea of the fundamental option is that each person makes a basic choice to love God and as long as they do not consciously revoke that decision, they remain in His good graces.  In this way it becomes little more than a psychological game where as long as we say we love God, it is so.  Our actions do nothing to change our fundamental stance as long as we still “love” God in our minds.  With the adoption of this viewpoint throughout the Church, the idea of mortal sin has been lost and many people miss out on the opportunity to bathe in God’s merciful love.

Despite this, the Church still teaches that there is such thing as mortal sin and a single mortal sin can damn us to hell for all eternity.  The Catechism says “[T]o die in mortal sin without repenting and accepting God’s merciful love means remaining separated from him forever by our own free choice” (CCC 1033). While this constitutes a truth of the faith, it is fruitful to look at why this is the case.  All too often people will view this teaching as “fire and brimstone” but it can have a bearing on our daily lives, especially those who truly want to love God.

There is a subtlety in the quote from the Catechism that is easy to miss. The choice of describing it as being in mortal sin, rather than “having committed mortal sin” or “with mortal sin on his soul,” reveals a deep anthropological truth and shows us how sin is more than just an offense against God.

Man, because he is free has the freedom for self-determination.  Man can become whatever he wants to become.  Now, this is not meant in a “you can do anything if you just believe in yourself” kind of way.  Instead it means that we are free everywhere and always to be a certain kind of person.  A man who desires to be honest, is always free to do the honest thing.  A man who desires to humble, always has the power to do the humble thing.  It is only on this level that man is authentically free and thus responsible.  Where the self-determination comes in is that by repeatedly performing acts of honesty or humility the man becomes honest or humble.  These habitual dispositions (we call them virtues) become almost second nature to us.  In other words, our actions determine the kind of person we are.  This can also work for woe.  The man who repeatedly lies out of fear becomes a liar and coward.

When we speak of heaven then we must first admit that there are only certain kinds of people that are fit to be admitted.   We shall return to the question of why it must be a certain type, but first it is necessary to make a further distinction.  While self-determination plays a key part in this, it is not the only thing (or even the most important thing).  The most important thing is whether the heaven life is alive in our souls.  Because God is “a consuming fire” we cannot enter into eternal friendship with Him without being “equals” with Him.  This is so important to understand any time we speak of Heaven or Hell.  Not everyone could stand in God’s Presence.  He gives us sanctifying grace to make us fireproof.  Without it, no matter how many good things we have done, the fire of His love would be more painful than the fires of Hell (this is why we can say that Hell is a sign of God’s mercy).

What this means is that this time of trial and testing is all about being made fit.  We must do everything in our power to keep the life of God that was freely given to us in Baptism (ordinarily) coursing through our souls.  This is where the notion of self-determination comes into play.  Our actions determine the “shape” of our souls and only certain shapes can hold the life of God in them.  Once the soul becomes warped from certain types of actions, then the life of God spills out them.

Nine Circles

At this point, one might be willing to concede all that has been said.  But how is it that a single mortal sin could so damage the human will as to make the person unfit for Heaven?  After all, we have been speaking of habits and one slip does not break a habit.  Perhaps this is best answered by way of analogy.  Suppose a man loves his country and strives to be patriotic.  He may have dedicated his life to serving out of love for his country.  This love certainly may not be perfect.  He may love her imperfectly by doing something like not obeying all the traffic laws.  While he would still be viewed as a patriot, he would not yet be a perfect patriot since the love of self that causes him to disobey the traffic laws impedes him from loving his country perfectly.  But are there certain actions in which he would cease to be a patriot?  Would a man who sold secrets to his country’s enemy still be a patriot even if he only did it once?  Everyone recognizes that a single traitorous action would undue all of his previous patriotic actions and he would no longer be considered a patriot.

So too it is with our moral lives.  We may love God imperfectly and commit venial sins, but there are certain actions which we can perform which are so contrary to the love of God that they deform our wills such that the life of God can no longer reside in us.  Just like the false patriot in our analogy, we still have the opportunity make amends for our transgression and have grace restored to us, but at a certain point that no longer becomes an option.  Benedict Arnold can no longer make amends for his act of treason, despite all of his previous acts of patriotism to the contrary.

This brings us to a second important point and that is that at the moment of death our souls become fixed.  We now enter into the realm of spirits and our manner of judging is immutable.  This is one of the ways we become “like the angels.”  Angels, because they are pure spirits, do not change their minds.  Because they can see all particulars attached to their decisions, their wills remain fixed once they have made a judgment.  So too we will do at the moment of death.  Because the soul is fixed in either good or evil by its last voluntary act, it continues to judge according to its inclination at the time of separation.  The will can only change when the judgment of the intellect gives new reasons.  This is why there is only one personal judgment at the time of death—the decision to choose for or against God has been made and cannot change.  This is also why the Fathers of the Church speak of the terrible temptations of the demons at the hour of death as they tempt us towards a mortal sin or away from repentance.  It is also why we pray regularly to St. Joseph, the Terror of Demons, for a happy death.

While we can see how reasonable this teaching is, it remains just informative unless it causes us to measure our actions more carefully.  If it is true that one mortal sin can cause us to lose Heaven then we must actively strive to grow in sanctifying grace.  The deeper the penetration of God’s life into our souls, the greater our protection against sin.  We truly become more and more like God, and it is only those who are truly like Him that can share His life in eternity.  Each day we do not grow in the love of God is a loss.

In closing, we may turn to Blessed Columba Marmion who seems to summarize our approach best:

We shall enjoy God according to the same measure of grace to which we have attained at the moment of our going out of the world. Do not let us lose sight of this truth: the degree of our eternal beatitude is, and will remain, fixed forever by the degree of charity we have attained, by the grace of Christ, when God shall call us to Himself. Each moment of our life is then infinitely precious, for it suffices to advance us a degree in the love of God, to raise us higher in the beatitude of eternal life. And let us not say that one degree more or less is a small matter. How can anything be a small matter when it concerns God, and the endless life and beatitude of which He is the source? If, according to the parable spoken by our Lord in person, we have received five talents, it was not that we might bury them, but that we might make them bear increase.  And if God measures the reward according to the efforts we have made to live by His grace and increase it in us, do not think it matters little what kind of a harvest we bring to our Father in Heaven.  Jesus Himself has told us that His heavenly Father is glorified in seeing us abound, by His grace, in fruits of holiness, which will be fruits of beatitude in Heaven. In hoc clarificatus est Pater meus ut fructum plurimum afferatis  . . . Can it be that our love for Jesus Christ is so weak that we account it a small thing to be a more or less resplendent member of His Mystical Body in the heavenly Jerusalem?

 

How Could I Be Happy?

Last Things

“How can people be happy in Heaven,” my friend asked, “knowing that their unsaved loved ones are suffering in Hell?”  Although this question is often asked by atheists we should have more than apologetical reasons for examining it.   We have probably all been confronted with this question or even pondered it ourselves.  After all it is a valid question, especially when confronted with the fact that people we know and love are very far from God and it would hurt us deeply to know they ended up in hell.  A close examination is merited because the web is filled with responses from well-intending Christians  that make Christians look like unthinking sociopaths.  Never one to avoid the hard questions, St. Thomas Aquinas offers us an answer to this sticky question in the Summa Theologiae (Supp. Q.94).

In order to understand St. Thomas’ response, we have to first admit that the question seems unanswerable.  It seems that either we do not love both God and neighbor perfectly in Heaven or we are not perfectly happy there.  Seemingly, the only way out of this dilemma is to deny one of the two contraries.  This is why St. Thomas is such a master at these types of questions—because he lived and taught by the Scholastic dictum that we should “Never deny, seldom affirm, and always distinguish.”

His point was not that we should be wishy-washy about things but that when faced with a dilemma like this, the answer lies in “both-and” rather than not in “either-or.”  In that regard, it is not just a Scholastic principle, but an eminently Catholic one.  And, for the question at hand, St. Thomas makes an important distinction about the way we love in Heaven.

In asking the question as to whether the blessed in heaven pity those in hell, St. Thomas formulates the following response to the objection that because pity proceeds from charity and charity is perfect in heaven, the blessed ought to pity those in hell.

Charity is the principle of pity when it is possible for us out of charity to wish the cessation of a person’s unhappiness. But the saints cannot desire this for the damned, since it would be contrary to Divine justice. Consequently the argument does not prove.

It seems he does not answer the question.  But what he is doing is clearing up the misconception that love on earth and love in heaven are the same thing.  Love on earth causes not only joy, but also suffering.  The amount of our suffering is in proportion to our love of the other person—the more we love the beloved, the more we suffer (and the more we rejoice in their good).  This earthly love has both an active component in that we work to alleviate or share their suffering and a passive component in that seeing them suffer causes suffering in us.  This is when we “feel sorry for” them.  This is felt most acutely when the beloved is engaged in something that is particularly self-destructive.  We both want them to get better (active), but also feel sorry for them (passive).  In heaven, love is wholly active and the passive component passes away.  The blessed will still love the damned person from heaven, but the passive part of love will cease.  They will no longer “feel sorry for them.”  In other words, the blessed will not suffer because of the sufferings of the damned.

Rich_Man_Lazarus

An analogy may help to clarify more fully.  The experience of many who do prison ministry is almost universal—they find themselves torn.  While they know the prisoner has done something that cries out for justice, they also feel sad for the prisoner’s loss (this is passive love).  This sorrow moves them to work for the prisoner’s conversion (this is active love).  Now in heaven, when the time to convert has passed and they no longer feel the passive love of sadness, all that is left is the joy of justice.

While the argument so far may seem to make sense, it seems awfully cold.  How can one rejoice in justice at the expense of the suffering of the damned?  St. Thomas puts the objection this way:

Now it is most reprehensible in a wayfarer to take pleasure in the pains of others, and most praiseworthy to grieve for them. Therefore the blessed nowise rejoice in the punishment of the damned.

And his reply

It is not praiseworthy in a wayfarer to rejoice in another’s afflictions as such: yet it is praiseworthy if he rejoice in them as having something annexed. However it is not the same with a wayfarer as with a comprehensor, because in a wayfarer the passions often forestall the judgment of reason, and yet sometimes such passions are praiseworthy, as indicating the good disposition of the mind, as in the case of shame pity and repentance for evil: whereas in a comprehensor there can be no passion but such as follows the judgment of reason.

What St. Thomas is saying here relates to our ways of knowing.  In our fallen state as wayfarers, our passions often run ahead of reason and either cause us to judge wrongly or judge slowly.  Using the prison minister being torn as an example is illuminative here as well.  Once he gets emotionally invested in the prisoner, justice seems to fade into the background.  Justice is seen merely as an abstract principle, while the prisoner is real flesh and blood (concrete).  He may eschew justice altogether or he may need to constantly remind himself the just reason for the prisoner’s incarceration.

In heaven, two things will change.  First, justice will no longer be something abstract but something concrete.  What this experience is like we do not know, but there are no abstractions in heaven.  Second, passions will no longer go ahead of reason.  This means the blessed will be able to separate the reasons for their joy from the causes of their sorrow.  In other words, they will rejoice because God’s justice is done while still having active charity and goodwill towards those who are damned.  What they will not do however is feel sorry for them.

In essence what St Thomas is saying is that the blessed do not take pleasure in the sufferings of the damned.  The pleasure that they take is in the goodness of divine justice.  Neither do they feel pity for the damned because they have no reason to.  Yet, they still actively will the good of the damned just as God does.

While this discussion may be philosophically satisfying, will it ultimately satisfy an atheist interlocutor?  Probably not.  The reason is because of their conception of happiness.  Without a proper understanding of what it means to be happy none of this makes sense.  To the modern mind, happiness is synonymous with contentment.  It is seen subjectively as a temporary feeling that is dependent on external circumstances.  That the word happy comes from the Old English word for “chance” is a perfect illustration of this.  Classically understood though, happiness is a translation of the Greek word eudaemonia which defines happiness as a condition of the soul that finds its ultimate fulfillment in the beatific vision.  The point is that this is a question that can only be answered satisfactorily from the inside.  Until one is convinced that having God means having everything and that not having God is nothing, it becomes little more than a red herring.  Best to turn the tables on them Socratically and ask them what they mean by “happy.”

The Consuming Fire

Last Things

Who among us, at some point, has not been asked how a God Who is All-Good could ever send anyone to hell?  And who among us has not responded with the completely unsatisfying response that “God doesn’t send anyone to hell.  People choose by themselves to go to hell and God just gives them what they want”?  It is time that we reexamine this question and take a different approach; one that reveals more about the Goodness of God than merely explaining away a legitimate question.  This question truly needs to be reframed.  The question needs to be “how could a God who is All Good not send some people to hell?”

First of all, we must come to grips with the fact that some people will end up in hell.  Because of the emphasis in Vatican II on the positive aspects of our faith, certain theological schools have arisen which suggest a universalism in which all men are saved.  The truth however is that hell has more than just angelic residents.  While the Church has never engaged in negative “canonizations” declaring a particular person in hell, Sacred Scripture seems to imply (and most of the Fathers agree) that Judas ended up in hell.  In particular, Matthew (Mt. 26:24) declares that it would have been better never to have been born; which certainly would not be true if he were among the blessed.  Even if you do not accept that, the man who is the false prophet of Revelation (see Rev. 20:10) ends up in hell.  We also can make little sense of Jesus’ parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25 if there is no actual separation between the two groups at the end of time.

While it is true that some people are in hell, this becomes little more than a theological exercise if I do not at the same time admit the real possibility that not only do I belong there, but there is also a real possibility that I will end up there as well.  This must be more than just a pious expression.  God sent His son on a rescue mission to break anyone out of prison that wants to come, but it will be dangerous and pious sentiments will not keep me from giving up.  The danger of an eternal Stockholm Syndrome confronts us all if we forget that we are still inside the prison walls.

Once we accept these two things as given, namely all of us deserve hell and some of us will get what we deserve, we can address the question as to why God cannot both be All-Good and there be no men in hell.  The first reason can be expressed as a syllogism.

Justice is an essential attribute of Goodness

God is all-Good

Therefore, God must also be just.

 

In other words, if some men deserve eternal punishment and God does not give it to them then God is not all-good because He lacks justice, which belongs to goodness.

Now, immediately I can see the objection arise in your mind—“but God is not only just, He is also merciful.”  To that I would respond that hell is not simply a result of God’s justice but the inclusion of some of mankind it is a sign of His mercy.  Yes, that is what I said—His mercy.

One of the other prevailing sentiment in today’s theological climate is the manner in which we can tend to tame God.  But the author of the Book of Hebrews says God is a consuming fire (Heb 12:29).  This image at the very least ought to terrify us.  What this means primarily is that God is so good that all that is lacking in goodness is consumed in His presence.  Anything that is sinful will be burned up.

For the righteous who die in a state of grace this means that all that is imperfect in them will be burned away prior to entering His presence.  On the other hand, those who are in a state of mortal sin cannot enter God’s presence because they would suffer the pain of annihilation.  To see this, we have to understand what mortal sin does to us.  It changes us into something else.  In fact it makes us into sin.  So then, rather than suffering the pain of annihilation that would come from being in the presence of God, the sinner is mercifully sent to hell (St Thomas cites Ecclesiastes 3:14 for why God will not annihilate anything He has made).  The reason why we say that the “sinner chooses hell” is because sin has so disfigured them and their wills have become so twisted that they could literally not stand to be in God’s presence.

Dante in his Inferno captures these two things points in a way that adds a great deal of clarity.  As Dante and Virgil descend the depths of hell it gets colder and colder (away from the fire of God) and in each ring of hell, the inhabitants have literally become their sins.

 

Now it is your turn.  Why do you think so many people struggle with balancing hell, God’s mercy and His justice?  Comment below…