There is an old story about St. Catherine of Genoa, a 15th-century mystic, who once described purgatory not as a dungeon of despair but as a place of love’s final cleansing. She said, “The souls in purgatory are not sad; they burn with love for the God they will soon behold. The fire that purifies them is the fire of His mercy.” That insight captures what today’s celebration, the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, is truly about: not fear, but hope; not condemnation, but completion; not punishment, but purification in love.
When we profess the Creed, we say, “I believe in the Holy Catholic Church, the Communion of Saints.” This communion exists in three states:
- The Church Triumphant: the saints in heaven who behold the face of God.
- The Church Militant: we who are still journeying on earth, fighting the good fight of faith.
- The Church Suffering: those who have died in God’s friendship but still need to be purified before entering heaven.
Today, we, the Church Militant, join hands in prayer for the Church Suffering, just as we ask the intercession of the Church Triumphant. It is one Church, one family of love, stretching across time and eternity.
Today’s celebration also highlights the Catholic Church’s belief in the existence of purgatory. Some people ask, “Where is purgatory in the Bible?” But a better question is: “Where else can we make sense of God’s mercy and justice together?” Scripture gives us clues: In 2 Maccabees 12:43–45, Judas Maccabeus took up a collection to offer prayers and sacrifices for fallen soldiers, “that they might be freed from their sin.” If the dead could no longer benefit from prayers, this act would be meaningless. In Matthew 12:32, Jesus says that certain sins “will not be forgiven in this age or in the age to come.” That means there is forgiveness possible beyond the grave, but it cannot be in heaven, where all is perfect, nor in hell, where repentance is impossible. There must therefore be a middle place, a state of purification. And in Revelation 21:27, we read: “Nothing unclean will enter heaven.” Yet Romans 3:23 tells us, “All have sinned.” If nothing unclean can enter heaven, and yet most of us die imperfect, then divine mercy must make a way to cleanse us. That merciful way is purgatory.
Let us think of it this way: Some people die as saints; they go straight to heaven. Some reject God entirely; they choose hell. But most of us? We are somewhere in between, people who loved God sincerely but imperfectly, people who struggled with weaknesses, unfinished conversions, and lingering attachments. Would the God of mercy cast such souls into hell? Or would He draw them close and gently purify them, so they can fully embrace His holiness? That is purgatory: God’s finishing school for the imperfectly holy.
The early Christians believed this, too. Tertullian, writing in the second century, said it was the custom of the Church to make offerings for the dead. St. John Chrysostom urged priests to offer Masses for the departed, saying, “Let us not hesitate to help those who have died and to offer our prayers for them.” St. Augustine himself prayed: “You purify me in this life, O Lord, that I may not need the purging fire after death.” Clearly, from the earliest centuries, the Church prayed for the faithful departed, because love does not end at the grave.
And even those who say they do not “believe in purgatory” act as though they do. For example, when someone dies, we all say or write “R.I.P.” (Rest in Peace). But think about that. If the person is already in heaven, they do not need the prayer; they already have eternal joy. And if they are in hell, they cannot rest; they have eternal separation and condemnation. So why do we pray for the dead to rest in peace? Because deep down, the human heart knows that after death, there is a process of mercy, a purification that leads to peace. That is what the Church calls purgatory.
My dearly beloved in Christ, today is not a day of sadness, but of faith, love, and hope. We remember our beloved dead, not as gone, but as alive in God. We pray for them, because prayer is love reaching beyond the grave. Death is not the end of the story. As St. Ambrose said after his brother’s death: “Death was not part of God’s first plan, but it became the remedy for sorrow. The seed must die to bring forth life.” So when we say “Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,” we are really saying, “Lord, complete in them what your love began.”
When a leaf falls from a tree, it reminds the others that they, too, will one day fall. So today, as we pray for the departed, we also remember our own mortality. Let our lives be a continual preparation, so that when our time comes, we too may be ready to meet the God who forgives, purifies, and saves. May the Lord, in his infinite mercy, grant eternal rest to our departed loved ones; may he comfort those who mourn; and may he make our lives worthy of the reunion that awaits in his presence, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Homily for All Souls’ Day Year C 2025
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