10. Death & the Last Things

It is important to speak about the last things. The Catholic tradition holds that due to our first parents and their original sin, the gates of heaven were literally closed. Humanity broke off its relationship with God. We chose selfishness instead of selfless love. In Christ's unconditional love and self-sacrifice on the cross, the doors to heaven have been reopened. He who is both a man and God has repaired what we could never restore. He loves us even though we murdered him by our sins. Instead of abandoning us, he makes his act of sacrifice the focal reality of the sacraments in the Church whereby we die with Christ so as to rise with him.

For those who had already died, he descended to the dead and offered the gift of salvation to the righteous, especially to those who had foretold his coming. Eastern icons often portrayed Christ pulling Adam and Eve by the hair as he raised them from their fiery torment in the limbo of the fathers. For those who would face mortal death later, he offered the new dispensation, by which in baptism, one was made an adopted child of God and an inheritor of the Kingdom of Heaven.

During the early centuries of the Church, Christianity was persecuted and many faced martyrdom for the faith. It was the tradition of the Church that these heroic men and women went straight to heaven. Their persecutors could take away all their property, their clothes, their family and friends, even their freedom and lives; but, they could not take away their true treasure which was Jesus Christ. Others would not physically forfeit their lives for Jesus, but rather, would devote their lives to God in consecrated vocations. Some would embrace evangelical poverty so that they could be one with the poor whom they served. Others would choose celibacy so that they might more fully give themselves in their love and service of God's people. Still others would elect to find God in their daily fidelity in marriage and in their children, even when the forces against them were frightful. One could not paint a single picture of a saint. That has been their greatest significance. Like many colors splashed on a canvas, together their unity reveals the loving face of Jesus. As I mentioned earlier, like signposts, the assist us on the way of Christ to heaven.

Are we willing to be as heroic as our forebears in faith? If someone were to put a gun to our heads tomorrow and demand that we renounce Christ, what would we do? More important perhaps, in our day-to-day living out of our lives, are we willing to struggle earnestly in combating sin and in growing in holiness? Our failures show us that we are not yet the people we are called to be. Hopefully, we are getting there. However, what would happen if our mortal lives should cease before we have disentangled ourselves from evil? The Church has held that what God has begun, he will finish. If our hearts belong to God, but we still cling to the last shreds of selfishness, God will give us an opportunity to be completely healed, even after death. Purgatory allows the fire of God's love to purge and cleanse us. Our prayers for the dead are like breath or wind against a flame, forcing it to grow and burn hotter. We pray that our faithful deceased may speed on their way to God's kingdom. Those in purgatory are on their way to heaven. The race is almost over, the goal is in sight.

The notion of purgation is not a sign of God's wrath, but of his mercy. Unlike many fundamentalists and classical Lutherans, we believe that justification is not simply imputed, covering our depravity behind Christ; rather, we believe that grace, both as a saving gift and as the presence of Jesus himself takes residence in us and transforms us. We become a new creation, not in a juridical sense, but in fact. Good works can earn merit because they are the actions of Christ living inside of us. Apart from the Lord, nothing has significant value. Thus, if salvation rests with conversion and transformation, more than with a one-time faith profession and a legal technicality, then our salvation demands that we become perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect. Those in love in God want this cleansing; however, the disentanglement from sin and disordered habits tears at the very fabric of our identity. Some experience this final cleansing in this world, if not, it remains for the next.

We should remember that to enter heaven, we need to be perfect. Take for example the young girl preparing for a fancy dance with the boy she loves. If she found an ugly stain on her gown chosen for the occasion, she would do all she could to clean it. She could not bear the shame of going with him in a ruined gown. She wants to be just right for him. So too, we want to be perfect for God. We would be ashamed to be anything less. The only difference between the analogy and purgatory is that the stain is within us, maybe buried very deep. It will come out, but maybe not always too easily. Purgatory is God's opportunity given to us to be totally cleansed by his love. The closer we draw to him, the more our old self cannot remain with us. Like straw, it is burnt away. As I said before, all this is a sign of God's unfathomable mercy. We could never deserve his presence. Imperfect, we could justly be thrown into the pit. Instead, God offers us an opportunity to be with him still. Realizing that we are bonded together as a family, we cover these lost ones, who are not lost in God, in the balm of our prayers. We hope these prayers convey the healing love of God active in our family of faith. These prayers are different from those offered to the saints who have no need for further purification and rest in the bosom of Abraham. Just as we might ask a friend or family member to pray for us, we may also call upon members of our family of faith in heaven to support us and to pray for and with us. They who are filled with Christ may be able to shed his light into our lives. The balm of love is now called down from heaven, to pour over us and to strengthen us for the trial. We are an Easter people. Our dead are really alive in the Lord. They continue to pray for us, to love us, and to care for us. Christ is the sign that love is stronger than death.

As I reflect upon the end of mortal life, my thoughts also race to its beginning. Many Catholics are baptized as infants. But, child or adult, we do not come to the waters of new life alone. As children we were held in the arms of parents and godparents. Invisibly present were also the saints, rejoicing at the entry of a new member to our number in the family of faith. The profession of faith is made, realizing that this mystery is both personal and corporate. The Church more that those in pilgrimage here below, but also includes those in glory above. During this interim time, prior to Christ's second coming, there is the Church in purgatory, too. We come to God, not simply as individuals, but as an interrelated family. Even the Scriptures remind us that whenever two or more are gathered together, Christ is there. When he instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, he was among his friends, bonded to them in love. At Pentecost, he poured out his Holy Spirit upon each and every one of us, making holiness possible in his community of believers. This same Spirit binds us as brothers and sisters.

It is well worth mentioning that there are many more saints than the ones canonized (selected out) by the Church for special reverence. Saints are examples for us. There may even be holy men and women in our midst right now who seem so perfectly to reflect Christ that we cannot help but see them destined for the sanctity of heaven. They seem to bring a little piece of heaven down to earth. Often, they are people beloved, but hard to understand-- their values being so different from the world-- living images of Christ.

Before concluding this section, I must say a few words about hell. Despite the modern tendency to avoid this topic or to pretend that it does not exist, hell is as real a reality as is the presence of evil in our world. Often, when it is spoken about in religious circles, it is viewed as a place where a vengeful God threatens to send bad people. However, while fear of the loss of heaven and the pains of hell is legitimate, we should keep in mind that hell is a sign of God's justice which is tempered only by his boundless mercy and love. God ultimately gives us what we most desire. If he is our treasure, then our lives and faith will reveal it. Nevertheless, so great is God's love, that he even allows us the possibility of rejecting his love. If this should continue to the point of death, then God would withdraw as much of his presence as possible from us. We would violate the two great commandments and thus hate him and all those who are grafted to him. That little speck of the divine keeping us in existence would constitute the greatest agony of hell. Turning in on ourselves, and away from God, we would be locking ourselves into a tiny cell. Could we imagine being locked up forever with the person we most abhor? Maybe the fiery torment, the pain of the senses, is God's parting gift-- something to distract from the true loss and pain? The crime for which souls are convicted and sent to hell is simple: the damned hate God. There is no community in hell. The damned close off themselves from God and from us. The Church teaches that there is a hell. This is a dark mystery. God desires the salvation of all. We were made for him and like puzzles are incomplete without him. Ours is a frightful freedom and yet to misuse it means eternal captivity. We can strive ourselves, and encourage others, to say yes to God-- to love him with all our hearts, minds, and souls. We can pray that, lacking much company, Satan is lonely.