“Is there a Purgatory?”
This question is an important one because it is such a sticking point between
Roman Catholics and Evangelical Protestants. Protestants have long rejected the
doctrine because they consider it to not only be unbiblical, but anti-biblical.
In other words, it does not appear in the Bible and contradicts things that do
appear there.
Catholics rarely debate this point. They know a well-developed doctrine of purgatory is an invention of the Middle Ages. Some earlier evidences are occasionally discussed, but they are vague, do not necessarily refer to purgatory, and are arguably holdovers from Greco-Roman religious practices of praying to and for ancestors.
Be that as it may,
Catholics arguing for purgatory do not care. It does not matter if the doctrine
is biblical, because it is traditional. In Catholic thought, church tradition
as developed through papal and conciliar proclamations is as authoritative as
Scripture (though they seek to avoid outright contradiction). Therefore,
because the Church itself has declared there to be a purgatory, there is a
purgatory whether the Bible says so or not.
Interestingly, an
article by Gary A. Anderson attempts to change this. Anderson is a Catholic
who argues that the doctrine of purgatory is, in fact, biblical. This is a
commendable goal, since it tries to bridge a longstanding and serious gap
between Protestants and Catholics. If purgatory could be shown to be
scriptural, then there would be a possibility of Evangelicals coming to accept
it and a point of contention could be done away with.
The goal is
commendable, but the execution less so. To understand why, we need to begin by
understanding what purgatory is. From there, we can consider the biblical
passages Anderson uses to prove his position, and why they actually do no such
thing. When that is done, we will move on to consider why Catholics consider
purgatory so necessary. Then we will conclude with the closest parallel idea in
Evangelical thought.
Purgatory
For those who may not
know, purgatory is a realm of the afterlife. You have perhaps heard
descriptions of nursing homes as “God’s waiting room?” Well, that more
accurately describes purgatory. It is not hell, because hell is a place of
eternal punishment reserved for those who choose not to be reconciled to God
through Jesus Christ. It is not heaven either, because heaven is the realm of
God where there is no suffering and pain, only joy. Purgatory is somewhere in
between.
Purgatory is,
essentially, a realm of punishment. Some might quibble, preferring “purgation,”
but the point is basically the same. It is assumed that when Christians die,
they have most often not completed the process of sanctification. To put it
another way, they died with minor sins in their lives for which they had not
properly corrected. In purgatory, they experience judgments on these sins.
However, the process is
not eternal. It only goes on so long as is necessary to “purge” the inmate of
the remaining stigma of sin. Once that is done, they enter heaven at last. A
waiting room, then, describes it fairly well. It is a place where time is
passed until God is ready to see you. And for whatever pain might be experienced,
it is worthwhile for knowing there will eventually be a payoff in the end.
“Purgatory” in the Bible
The word “purgatory”
appears nowhere in the Bible. Of course, neither does the word “trinity.” We
use many terms, traditions, doctrines, and practices not explicitly listed in
Scripture. For Protestants, however, the goal is to make sure they are backed
by the Bible. Since the Bible is God’s word in a special sense, it ought to be
the measure of our practice. If anything is out of keeping with it, then it
should not be observed. Anderson understands this objection, and so he seeks to
make an implicit case for purgatory such as Protestants might accept.
To do so, he looks at
three passages (For whatever reason, he does not reference the passages. Perhaps
it is an element of Catholic practice not to show where in the Bible stories
can be found so readers can look at them themselves). They are the story of
David from 2
Samuel 11-16, of Nebuchadnezzar from Daniel
4, and of Tabitha from Acts
9:36-43.
David
The story of David is
certainly the best one for Anderson’s argument. In it, David commits adultery
with Bathsheba and then has her husband, Uriah, murdered to cover it up. He is
confronted for his crimes by the prophet Nathan, after which David repents and
begs the Lord’s forgiveness. As a result, David is forgiven and his life is
spared. However, his child with Bathsheba is not permitted to survive, and
David nearly loses his kingdom to his son Absalom.
Anderson focuses on one
aspect of this episode in particular. At 2 Samuel 16:5–14, David is fleeing
from Absalom and his forces. Along the way, he is met by Shimei, a relative of
the King Saul who had preceded David on the throne of Israel. Shimei used this
as an opportunity to insult David and call his troubles with Absalom the
judgment for his treatment of Saul and his family. David refuses to have Shimei
punished, telling his soldiers to “Let him alone, and let him curse; for so the
Lord has ordered him” (v. 11).
This is considered to
be a remarkable moment of restraint, and it certainly is. However, not to the
extent Anderson suggests. He says in the article,
David may take consolation
in being forgiven, but he does not confuse forgiveness with the process of
spiritual repair. The pain that he must endure is nothing other than the
logical consequence of what he has done, and the biblical authors depict him as
possessing the spiritual wisdom to see this punitive suffering as a
providential path toward transformation, blows that reshape him into an image
of one perfected in penitent submission to God’s will.
I do not mean to suggest Anderson is entirely wrong about
this. There is something to be said for undergoing discipline patiently. But
that is not exactly what David does here.
For one thing, we need to pay attention to the entire
passage. David refuses to see Shimei punished in v. 11, but he had not finished
speaking. In v. 12 he says, “It may be that the Lord will look on my
affliction, and that the Lord will repay me with good for his cursing this day.”
David does not see Shimei’s insults as being deserved. Quite the opposite. And
his hope is that God will reward him for his patience. It is no different than
David’s earlier patience in the face of his persecution by Saul (1
Samuel 24, 26).
Secondly, this is not the last time we hear of Shimei. In 1
Kings 2:8, 9, as David is passing his throne on to his son in preparation
for death, he commands Solomon to execute Shimei for the curses he had lobbed
years earlier. Considering that David had promised to spare Shimei (2
Samuel 19:18b–23), this hardly stands out as a
high moment. David, in the end, is not as grateful for the opportunity at
purgation as Anderson wants him to be.
This is not to say David was a monster, either. No, he was
just a man, which is the point. He would not have been very hopeful if he
believed he had to rely on himself for holiness.
Nebuchadnezzar
In relying on the example of Nebuchadnezzar, Anderson leans
on an even more tenuous connection to purgatory than in David’s case. In this
story, Nebuchadnezzar has a nightmare that the prophet Daniel interprets as
promising the king’s downfall. As a result of his pride, Nebuchadnezzar is
struck with madness for seven years, and it only passes once he repents.
Anderson relies heavily on one verse in particular. In
Daniel 4:27, the prophet tells the king, “Pay
off the debt you owe for your sins through charity toward the poor.”
Except, that isn’t what he says. Catholic scholars interpret it that way, but a
better translation from the original Hebrew says, “Break off your sins by being righteous, and your iniquities by
showing mercy to the poor.”
Notice the difference. Catholic tradition inserts language
of paying debts where none exists. Daniel counseled repentance, but the
incorrect reading turns it into an opportunity for Nebuchadnezzar to pay his
way out of trouble.
And again, that is not all. That same verse, Daniel 4:27,
closes with, “Perhaps there may be a lengthening of your prosperity.” Doesn’t
exactly read like a promise, does it? Daniel was telling Nebuchadnezzar that
this was coming. His incomparable egotism had gone so far that the God of the
Universe was literally going to make him crawl in the dirt to show him just how
small he really was. Daniel’s advice was not absolute, so much as it was a last
gasp of little promise.
Finally, Anderson plays a trick with the ordering of the
story. In his article, he makes it sound as if Daniel’s advice is what
Nebuchadnezzar does in order to restore himself. The biblical account says nothing
of the sort. Daniel told the king this immediately after interpreting the
dream. Nebuchadnezzar did not do it, and was punished afterward (though still
for his original pride). It is only when, as v. 34 says, “Nebuchadnezzar lifted
[his] eyes to heaven” that he was restored to sanity and kingship. At his very
lowest, with absolutely nothing to offer, he turned to God. Repentance was all
that was required. The real work was done by the Lord.
Tabitha
The last biblical story to which Anderson directs us is
that of Tabitha, or Dorcas. Acts 9:36 describes her as a Christian woman “full
of good works and charitable deeds.” When she died, the other people in her
church called on the apostle Peter to come to them. He was shown to her body,
where he met a number of widows to whom Tabitha had given clothes that she had
made. These widows even brought the clothing to show him. Peter, in a show of
compassion and power in the Holy Spirit, called Tabitha back to life.
Is this story, as Anderson contends, another sign of the
biblical validity of the doctrine of purgatory? I can see how he thinks that,
from his perspective. In the Roman Catholic system of merits, it would make
sense that Tabitha had done enough good works for the people she helped to have
a petition granted on her behalf.
Perspective is the issue here, though. The Catholics see Tabitha’s
return as being to her benefit. From the Evangelical view, though, it was to
the benefit of her friends. She was allowed to live again not because her works
had saved her, but because the poor still needed her. More than that, this
miracle was a sign that led to the spreading of the Gospel (v. 42). It was not
for Tabitha.
“For to me, to live is
Christ, and to die is gain. But if I live on in the flesh, this will mean fruit
from my labor; yet what I shall choose I cannot tell. For I am hard-pressed
between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far
better. Nevertheless to remain in the flesh is more needful for you.”
He is ready to go. It may sound strange, but this life is
not the reward. Christ is. We stay here because we have work to do, things
which may be rewarding for us but which are only truly needful for others.
Tabitha, like Paul, would have known that. She had nothing to fear in death,
but life was a blessing to those she loved.
No Purgatory in the
Bible
Having reviewed every biblical account Anderson discusses,
a few things become evident. First is the use of Old Testament examples. Of all
the stories, only Tabitha’s is about a Christian. Even if Anderson’s
interpretation were correct, it would not really tell us that much. The Old
Testament system was one that relied on works. However, with the coming of
Christ, the purposes of the Old Testament law were abrogated. Its principles
still hold true, but not its practices, which were made obsolete by their
perfect completion in Jesus Christ (Galatians
3:10–14, 19–25).
Secondly, Anderson
has to read each passage incompletely and incorrectly in order for it to say
what he wants it to say, anyway. David suffers to purify himself,
Nebuchadnezzar pays his way out of trouble, and Tabitha is the one rewarded by
her return to this world.
This is a common danger of reading the Bible (or really,
anything else) known as “eisegesis.” It means to read something into the text,
rather than taking it out of its plain, original reading. And it is bad enough
each time Anderson does it. But it is at its worst in his attempting this
project at all.
What is the real common denominator in each of these
stories? It is that no dead people go to heaven after an intermediary period of
discipline. In other words, there is no purgatory. No one goes there, or says a
word about it. Anderson, along with most other Catholics, merely takes it for
granted because the Roman Catholic Church says it exists. It is hopeful to see
him wrangling with the Scripture to find its authority on the subject.
Unfortunately, he sticks with his original assumptions instead of responding to
the evidence (or lack thereof).
Each of these stories has the meaning its own context
supplies. In David’s case, it is patience. In Nebuchadnezzar’s, repentance. And
for Tabitha, it is about help for the poor and the spreading of the Gospel.
There is no room for purgatory in them, and no room for it in the Bible at all.
It ultimately comes down to the major disagreement between
Catholicism and Protestantism. The Catholic Church teaches that it is
impossible to experience grace without making your own contribution. The
Protestant teaching is that you cannot contribute to grace at all. That is what
makes it grace. It is an unmerited gift.
What Christ did for us on the cross finishes what we can
never do for ourselves. It is an incredible expression of pride to say Jesus’
death only gets us so far, and that we must make up the slack by good works. Of
course, life is a process. Once we have God’s grace, we are called to live a
holy life. But it is not so we can be saved. It is so we can be closer to Him,
and reflect Him more clearly to those who need His light. And it is most
certainly not so we can avoid the continuation of the process after death.
There are simply no grounds for that.
The Desire for
Purgatory
If there is actually no biblical basis for the doctrine of
purgatory, and it in fact cuts against Scripture, then why was it developed and
why is it so firmly believed? It is not a simple question to answer. Three
factors come to mind.
The first, and most important, is what I have already
alluded. The message of the Gospel is that Jesus takes our sins away. We do not
do anything to deserve this, because we could not possibly hope to merit the
covering of the blood of the Son of God. It is as simple as giving your life to
Him by acknowledging you have been a rebel and accepting His forgiveness.
Salvation is, on our part, easy.
To some, though, it is too easy. It is hard to accept that
we do not have to work for it. We are suspicious of a free gift. Too often,
people who get into this mindset will not allow themselves to accept Christ.
They still try to earn Him, to live up to Him. Sadly, it just keeps them distant
from Him, since they never can. Purgatory is an element of this. Catholics feel
like they have to pay for their sins, even if it takes centuries. But that is
only because they want to be in control, rather than surrendering to the mercy
of God in Christ.
Secondly, purgatory is actually convenient. The Catholic
Church creates an obligation mindset. It teaches people that they must live for
God to be acceptable to Him, not to live for Him because He first accepts them
through Christ. And obligations are burdensome. Purgatory allows them to alleviate
that. They can live basically however they want in this life, as long as they
avoid cardinal sins, thinking they will have a chance to make it all up in a
place where that will be their sole focus.
This contrasts with the Protestant view, in which good
works are supposed to flow from love rather than obligation. We live for God
and others out of gratitude instead of fear. What we do here does matter, but
because it glorifies the Lord who saves us and leads to blessings in heaven. It
does not keep us from suffering later. In other words, our good works make life
more full, rather than keeping it from emptying.
There is a final reason why some desire purgatory to be
real, and it is the reason Anderson gives in the article. He says,
The brilliance of the doctrine of Purgatory .
. . lay in its institutional control over ineradicable folk beliefs and in its
engagement with intimate, private feelings . . . . The notion of
suffrages—masses, almsgiving, fasts, and prayers—gave mourners something
constructive to do with their feelings of grief and confirmed those feelings of
reciprocity that survived, at least for a limited time, the shock of death.
[ellipses in original]
This is an incredible admission. People believe in
purgatory because it allows them to have a connection to their lost loved ones.
By thinking they can say prayers for them or pay in some other way to lessen
their term there, their sense of bereavement is assuaged. Never mind that there
is no biblical backing for the idea. It is a psychological comfort. When they
really should be trying to focus on the fact that the dead are in paradise (as
long as they accepted Christ), the living are hoping they were held back. It is
incredibly selfish. Harsh, I know, but true.
The Ultimate
Purgation
Still, as I said before, the worst fault of the doctrine of
purgatory is its pernicious insistence that we be the ones to cleanse ourselves
after death. But even so, it misses the point. There is really no need for
purgatory at all. We have had the answer all the time, right under our noses,
mentioned again and again in this article.
As both Catholics and Protestants know, sanctification is a
process. It serves the purpose of separating us from our sins, sometimes
through suffering. And it has an end. Death itself is the ultimate purgation.
As Romans
6:23 says, “The wages of sin is death.” It is a
price even Christians pay. But it is the last step.
When Christians die, they are freed at last from all
corruption (1
Corinthians 15:35–54). What sorts of purgatorial
punishments could match the finality of the ending of life itself? There are
none. The Bible says nothing about purgatory because it is not needed. We walk
in this life, doing what we can through the power of the Spirit to draw near to
Christ. And when the time comes, the last sanctifying act occurs when this life
and its cares are put to an end. In death, we pass into life.
Purgatory is not only left without evidence in the Bible,
then, but it actually stands opposed to the teachings of the Bible and the
purposes of God. It inserts human agency where there is none. It also provides
a false sense of security. If people think they can do what they want and then
just make up for it after death, they are sorely mistaken. This life is the
only chance they have to get it right. And the only way they can get it right
is by relying on the matchless work of Jesus Christ. Only faith in the One who
died for your sins and lives to give you unending life, can save you.
Finding the Truth
In the end, Anderson is right to seek rapprochement between
Catholics and Protestants. However, that can only occur with a better
understanding of and reliance on Scripture among Catholics. Purgatory is the
perfect example of what we mean when it comes to other doctrines like the
veneration of saints, Mariology, indulgences, papal authority, and any number
of others you could care to name. It is not merely that they add to Scripture.
It is that they add to it unnecessarily, even contradicting it.
The truth is available in Catholicism, but it is buried
deep under piles of tradition, guilt, and works. This is my invitation to get
out from under them and return to the simplicity of the word of God. You do not
need anything more. In fact, the “more” can be quite harmful. If you know
Christ as your Savior, you have everything. If you do not give your life to
Him, but instead merely pay Him lip service and attempt to make yourself
acceptable, then you have nothing. Figure it out now before it is too late. You
will not have time to make it up later.
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