A Purgatory Parable

In the Gospels, we hear many parables about the kingdom of heaven, and throughout Scripture, we are presented with many images used to describe heaven and hell.  Yet, there is very little to be heard of Purgatory. 

I once heard a parable of Purgatory – I don’t remember where or from whom, and it is certainly not part of the Bible – but it gave me some insights into the mystery of Purgatory.  As best I recall, it goes like this…

The state of Purgatory is like a woman who decided to have a dinner party.  Not just any dinner party, but a very special, holiday party.  She brought out her Irish lace tablecloth, the wedding china, solid sterling silverware, crystal glassware, and her most exquisite linen napkins.  In the middle of the table sat a rather ordinary-looking cut glass bowl. While it was filled with orchids as the centerpiece, the bowl itself looked somewhat out of place among the luxurious trappings of the table. 

Yet as out of place it may have looked on the table, it held a special place in the woman’s heart.  It had been her great-grandmother’s bowl, and the woman had seen it prominently displayed and used at her grandmother’s house when she visited on holidays.  It was a fixture at every family gathering, and the woman was so pleased that it was now hers to use and to pass on to the next generation.

The dinner is a great success, with everyone enjoying the lively company and delicious food.  At the end, one of the guests, being a good friend of the hostess, stays behind to help clean up.  As she takes the centerpiece bowl into the kitchen so as to clear the table, it slips from her hands and crashes to the tile floor, shattering into countless pieces.

Knowing its great sentimental value, the guest is as shattered as the bowl, struck dumb with horror.  Before the words of apology can come of her mouth, the hostess runs over, embraces her and says, “Are you hurt?  Do not worry about the bowl, it was just an accident.  We can clean this up in no time.” 

Despite the gracious and genuine forgiveness offered by the hostess, the guest remains shattered.  She knew she could not undo what had been done; she could not replace the irreplaceable.  For some time, she avoids the hostess completely, for it pains her to be reminded of her mistakes; to be reminded of her powerlessness to right what she had done wrong.

We are all called by God to holiness, called to be one with Him who is all holy.  When we answer this call, we begin a journey towards God.  Down through the ages, spiritual masters have described this journey in many different ways.  While the images and process may differ from sage to sage, one common element is the need for purgation, the need to purge ourselves from our ego, our pride, our drive for self-reliance, so that we can accept the mercy of God.  Jesus himself often refers to this purgation when he says we must die to ourselves and be born again in Spirit and light.

But for most of us, this purgation takes a long, long time, and the journey is fraught with failure.  Even as we make some progress along the journey, we often stray from the path and when we find ourselves back to the path, we are often further back than we had been before.  The process is so long it doesn’t necessarily end when we physically die.  Surely at our deaths, we leave behind the toils and travails of an earthly life, but even though God offers us complete forgiveness of our sins, most of us – I dare say virtually all of us – probably won’t be ready to face God.  Our pride, our reluctance to accept that which we don’t deserve, keeps us from the ultimate peace and joy that is God’s gracious, undeserved, unconditional love.  We are like the guest in the parable who cannot face her friend as the friend’s face simply reminds her of her failings and her inadequacies.

Yet, when we have completely purged ourselves of pride and ego – and Jesus is confident that we will since he will ultimately draw all those who believe in him to himself (Jn 6:36-40) – we become clean of heart!  Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God – and live! 

Today, we gather to commemorate and to pray for those who have left the womb of Mother Earth, but who are perhaps still on the journey to holiness, still purging the dross so as to be free to accept God in all his glory, grace, and goodness. 

But we do more than just pray for them.  We also ask them to pray for us, to pray with us, for we are in this journey together – we are a communion of saints.  I know that my dad and my father-in-law, both of whom prayed for my family and me mightily when they were here on earth, continue to pray for us as Mary and I continue to pray for them, that all of us may ultimately be free to be with God and with one another in eternal joy and eternal peace.