Except for one’s own sins, so many, many projects for the dehumanization of man are Satan’s works, simply because he hates man.
—Pope Francis, Homily on Monday, September 29, 2014
NICOLAS DIAT: What is your reaction to the scandal of pedophile priests?
ROBERT CARDINAL SARAH: If children have been entrusted to a priest who is supposed to lead them to God, and these fragile little creatures are the object of sexual abuse, this is evil and criminal behavior and a very serious matter. Pedophilia is one of the most abominable moral deviations.
The bishops who have deliberately hidden these scandals are a small minority. Nevertheless, there is no disputing the fact that their mismanagement did great harm to the Church. However, let us not forget that many of the predatory priests or religious had devised subtle strategies to make sure that their criminal acts would remain secret. Often, unfortunately, many victims did not report these incidents because they took place in situations of terrible psychological suffering. I am quite aware of the fact that respect for the office of the priest may also have played a role in establishing a culture of silence.
During the pontificate of John Paul II, Joseph Ratzinger was very courageous in his determination not to turn a blind eye to such crimes. It is important to remember these uncompromising words of Christ: “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea” (Mt 18:5-6). It is essential to recall that Jesus is pitiless and that he does not forgive the scandal given to children, just as he does not tolerate our lukewarm faith either: “I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth” (Rev 3:15-16).
The bishops who transferred pedophile priests from parish to parish to conceal their attacks behaved despicably. How could anyone imagine that those crimes would stop as if by magic?
This practice was used particularly in Ireland. In that country, cases of sexual abuse reached exceptional levels. The letter of Benedict XVI to Irish Catholics, published in March 2010, did not try to disguise the extent of the tragedies experienced because of betrayal by members of the clergy.
When I was archbishop of Conakry, I never had a problem with pedophilia in my diocese, and there is no disputing the fact that this scandal has not affected Africa much. On the other hand, on another level, I had to confront priests who were involved in clandestine affairs with women; the faithful were always very shocked by these excesses of their pastors. Besides, the situation of priests who lead a double life with wives and children, thus profaning the image of the high priest Jesus Christ and the grace of the priesthood, is no less serious. “Do not be deceived,” Saint Paul says, “God is not mocked, for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap. For he who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption; but he who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life” (Gal 6:7-8).
Indeed, I think that many bishops were not prepared to confront such weighty problems. Furthermore, we often are unaware of the complexity of the medical treatment of pedophiles. Those in charge of certain dioceses should have consulted qualified medical personnel, which in itself presented a set of considerable difficulties.
Today, I think that the Church has addressed with great courage and true effectiveness the problem of sexual predators. It is important to understand that John Paul II truly did not know about this problem. His illness prevented him from becoming aware of the extent of the betrayal of certain men. With great lucidity, Joseph Ratzinger opened up a new path. Benedict XVI and, then, Francis adopted radical methods to kill the roots of this horror.
In many countries, the civil institutions that are supposed to address such problems could take as their inspiration the transparency of the Church. I am not afraid to say that we acted in such a way that the procedures implemented by the Church are now a model.
What is the best way to understand the shocking statement made by Francis during the press conference on his trip to the Holy Land, comparing the acts of pedophile priests to black Masses?
The pope gave mature reflection to the full scope of such a comparison. Francis decided to make that statement because he thinks that pedophilia is a satanic act. I strongly support the Holy Father’s accusation. How can a priest who has been able to attack an innocent child with such extraordinary violence then celebrate Holy Mass?
After committing such a serious sexual crime, a priest can no longer carry the consecrated Host in his hands. If he decides to continue celebrating Mass, his disrespect for the Son of God has become so great that, consciously or not, he has made a pact with the devil. A pedophile priest who says Mass commits a sacrilege.
A pedophile act ontologically affects the very being of a priest; consequently, the priestly bond that attaches him to Christ is gone. The breach is so extreme that he can no longer enter into communion with Jesus.
How can a priest reach the point of such perversion and forget the sacred, serious, and momentous words pronounced at his priestly ordination: “Receive the oblation of the holy people, to be offered to God. Understand what you do, imitate what you celebrate, and conform your life to the mystery of the Lord’s cross.”
Francis decided to denounce black Masses so as to flush out the devil and bring his misdeeds into the light of day. An act of pedophilia is the corruption of innocence, the denial of God’s creation; the battle against divine purity is essentially the devil’s delight. The body of a child is virginal, and Satan cannot tolerate that virginity.
Francis deserves our thanks and gratitude for his courage. For the devil will seek his revenge.
How does one speak without useless polemics, with complete objectivity, about the betrayal of some men of the Church?
In the seminaries, a small minority of men were able to hide the problems that put them deeply at odds with the priestly vocation. I cannot understand how they could have accepted ordination, only to find themselves afterward in a situation where they regularly profaned the sacraments.
In his pastoral letter to the Catholics of Ireland, Benedict XVI had very stern words about the priests and religious who have abused children. He wrote: “You betrayed the trust that was placed in you by innocent young people and their parents, and you must answer for it before Almighty God and before properly constituted tribunals. You have forfeited the esteem of the people of Ireland and brought shame and dishonor upon your confreres. Those of you who are priests violated the sanctity of the sacrament of Holy Orders in which Christ makes himself present in us and in our actions. Together with the immense harm done to victims, great damage has been done to the Church and to the public perception of the priesthood and religious life. I urge you to examine your conscience, take responsibility for the sins you have committed, and humbly express your sorrow. Sincere repentance opens the door to God’s forgiveness and the grace of true amendment. By offering prayers and penances for those you have wronged, you should seek to atone personally for your actions. Christ’s redeeming sacrifice has the power to forgive even the gravest of sins, and to bring forth good from even the most terrible evil. At the same time, God’s justice summons us to give an account of our actions and to conceal nothing. Openly acknowledge your guilt, submit yourselves to the demands of justice, but do not despair of God’s mercy.” (7)
A man of the Church who commits such sins is lying to himself and betraying God. Christ gave him all the means to carry out his priesthood, but he preferred to make a pact with the forces of darkness. And so the grace that was given him on the day of his ordination is seriously thwarted. A seminarian is never forced to become a priest. Well, then, what possible reason could a man who experiences such lethal impulses have for choosing the path of priesthood? Some specialists in these matters think that a pedophile always gravitates toward a setting where he knows he will be able to meet children. This explanation shows the extent to which the Church must strengthen her controls so as to detect this type of individual, which is certainly a small minority.
The pedophile is guilty of a threefold betrayal, of himself, of the Church, and of the baptized people, but he is also responsible for radically challenging the teaching of Christ. The worst criminal always has the possibility of divine forgiveness, but the pedophile priest puts himself into a situation of head-on combat with the Son of God.
What lesson should we learn from the terrible story of Father Marcial Maciel, the founder of the Legionaries of Christ?
A moment ago I mentioned the problem of bishops who do not know the horrors committed by certain priests. Allow me to tell you a little personal anecdote. When I was archbishop of Conakry, I read a book by Father Maciel on the formation of seminarians and clergy. I found his analysis magnificent. . . . In point of fact, I was entirely unaware of his real life and his unworthy conduct. Furthermore, how could I ever have imagined that this work had not been written by him and, worse yet, that whole passages were lifted from other treatises on spirituality?
Before I came to Rome, my knowledge about that congregation was limited. Moreover, I never met Father Maciel. Later, when I worked at the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, I was struck by the luxuriousness of the Legion’s houses of formation and spiritual centers; from that perspective, I often wondered about their ability to travel to poor mission countries.
Nevertheless, I was impressed by the significant number of priestly vocations that they generated. During a theology conference at the Pontifical Athenaeum Regina Apostolorum, which is run by the Legion of Christ, I had admired the good comportment of all those seminarians, who had come primarily from Latin America. They were a symbol of the new evangelization desired by John Paul II. My admiration for those young members of the Legion of Christ has never diminished. For God often lets the weeds and the good grain live together until the harvest. And we can admire their generous gift of their life and their commitment to following Christ.
Of course, there is always one burning question. How could a man as corrupt as Father Maciel fool the Roman authorities and the popes themselves for so many years? I think that the founder of the Legion of Christ betrayed the graces that heaven had given him. Little by little the devil took hold of his soul and inspired in him all the despicable acts that we know about now. I do not think it possible to suppose that that man was ever, even for a single day, in a relationship with Jesus Christ. It seems obvious that he constantly rejected the help that the Son of God could have given him.
According to the revelations that investigations of his life have brought to light, Marcial Maciel had already committed abominable acts at a very young age. His duplicity is all the more impressive since he succeeded in placing the government of the Legion at the service of all his corruption. The mystery remains, because he founded a flourishing religious family. Father Maciel instituted a work for the good of the Church while never renouncing his own sin.
Indeed, this man built up a work of God while at the same time carrying in his own person the seeds of its destruction. There certainly was a battle between good and evil; God gave much, while secret, maleficent actions never ceased to spread their diabolical poisons. While God was building a magnificent work, the devil did his utmost, in ever more hideous ways to ruin the work down to its foundations.
It must not be forgotten that the Legionaries of Christ have made an enormous contribution to the Church over the course of the last fifty years. The esteem that John Paul II had for the Legion was first of all an appreciation of its authentic missionary work.
After so many difficulties and attacks by the Evil One, I am certain that the better side will triumph. We must remember with gratitude the way in which Joseph Ratzinger was able to address with courage and lucidity such a complex problem that others pretended not to see. In many respects, Benedict XVI saved the Legion of Christ from major chaos.
What is evil, actually?
God is love and freedom. He leaves everyone free to love him or not; his love constrains no one. Evil is therefore the opposite of God, whatever is contrary to him. Saint John writes that evil is fundamentally a struggle against God. Our Father is the supreme good, and evil is in every respect what God is not.
What are the roots of evil? I think that it comes from the ability of each created being to make a free decision for good or for evil. According to revelation, evil comes from the Evil One, from Satan, who rebelled against God and tempted our “first parents” to turn away from God’s will. Evil is fundamentally a rebellion against God, against good, and against love.
Paradoxically, while no one wants evil, we do not hesitate to cooperate with it. Saint Paul, who was seeking to reject evil, exclaimed (Rom 7:14-20, 24): “We know that the law is spiritual; but I am carnal, sold under sin. I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. So then it is no longer I that do it, but sin which dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin which dwells within me. . . . Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” In the Letter to the Romans, the apostle thus describes in particularly realistic terms the struggle within every man. We are not unaware that something is forbidden; yet we sin. Indeed, the prohibition itself does not prevent sin, quite the contrary. Everything happens as though the law itself aroused the desire to transgress it.
Finally, evil can be defined by its relation to good. Without God, sin has no full meaning, because then it is impossible to appreciate in a truly certain way the nature of good or of evil. This is the tragedy of contemporary man. If man becomes a god, he plunges into a pitch-black night in which values have no meaning, since good and evil no longer exist. Mankind could thus be lost in a sort of chaos, because without a boundary between good and evil, the foundations of justice are dangerously erased.
In the divine plan, evil remains a great mystery for us. After our death, we will be able to understand many things that are difficult to accept here below.
Since the beginning of his pontificate, Francis has frequently spoken about the existence of the devil. Isn’t that a rather difficult subject to understand?
Revelation teaches us with certainty about the existence of evil spirits who oppose God by refusing to serve him and who incite men to rebel against God. The devil is the one who divides, who sets men against one another.
There is no better way to understand the existence of the devil than through his works. Like all spirits, he is not visible. Moreover, Satan loves nothing so much as the darkness in which he lies; the more hidden the devil, the more effective he is.
The prince of this world can be recognized also by all the temptations into which we fall. Through the Scriptures we know that he tempted Christ. Saint Luke writes as follows: “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan, and was led by the Spirit for forty days in the wilderness, tempted by the devil. And he ate nothing in those days; and when they were ended, he was hungry. The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.’ And Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “Man shall not live by bread alone.” ’ And the devil took him up, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time, and said to him, ‘To you I will give all this authority and their glory; for it has been delivered to me, and I give it to whom I will. If you, then, will worship me, it shall all be yours.’ And Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve.” ’ And he took him to Jerusalem, and set him on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here; for it is written, “He will give his angels charge of you, to guard you,” and “On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.” ’ And Jesus answered him, ‘It is said, “You shall not tempt the Lord your God.” ’ And when the devil had ended every temptation, he departed from him until an opportune time” (Lk 4:1-13).
I would like to quote also words by Paul VI, spoke on June 29, 1972, during a Mass at Saint Peter’s Basilica. The pope did not hide his pain and anguish: “Given the situation in the Church today, we have the impression that through some cracks in the wall the smoke of Satan has entered the temple of God: it is doubt, uncertainty, questioning, dissatisfaction, confrontation. There is no confidence in the Church. Instead people put their trust in the first secular prophet who comes along to talk to us about a newspaper editorial or a social movement, and they run after him to ask him whether he has the formula for true life, ignoring the fact that we already have it, that we are the owners of that formula. Doubt has entered our consciences, and it entered through windows that should have been open to the light. Science exists to give us truths that do not separate from God, but make us seek him all the more and celebrate him with greater intensity; instead, science gives us criticism and doubt. Scholars are those who more thoughtfully and more painstakingly exert their minds. But they end up teaching us: ‘I do not know, we do not know, we cannot know.’ The school becomes the gymnasium of confusion and sometimes of absurd contradictions. Progress is celebrated, only so that it can then be demolished with the strangest, most radical revolutions, so as to negate everything that has been achieved and to become primitives again after having so exalted the advances of the modern world. In the Church, too, this state of uncertainty prevails; it was thought that after the Council a day of sunshine would dawn for the history of the Church. What dawned instead was a day of clouds and storms, of darkness, of searching and uncertainties. We preach ecumenism, but we constantly separate ourselves from others. We seek to dig abysses instead of filling them in. How could that have happened? There has been an intervention of an adverse power. Its name is the devil, this mysterious being to whom Saint Peter also alludes in his Letter. How many times Christ speaks to us in the Gospel about this enemy of men! We believe in the action of Satan, who is active today in the world precisely to disturb, to suffocate the fruits of the Ecumenical Council, and to prevent the Church from breaking into the hymn of joy at having renewed in fullness her awareness of herself. This is why we wish, today more than ever, to be able to perform the duty entrusted by God to Peter, to strengthen our brothers in the faith. We wish to communicate to you this charism of certitude that the Lord gives to the one who represents him on this earth, however unworthily. Faith gives us certitude, assurance, when it is based on the Word of God and is accepted and acknowledged as being in conformity with our reason and our human soul.”
Saint John Vianney rightly said that “the Holy Spirit dispels the mists that the devil puts ahead of us to make us lose the way to heaven.”
And so it is important for dioceses to have well-trained priest exorcists, imbued with sanctity and protected by Mary’s virginal mantle. The manifestations of the devil are very significant and widespread today. Under his influence, yesterday’s sins have become virtues. The devil is finally celebrating because he is making substantial gains. We must not have any doubt, however, because the definitive victory will be for God alone. Saint Matthew records these magnificent words that Christ spoke to Peter: “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it” (Mt 16:18).
God promised us victory over the forces of evil. Our hope must remain strong.
“In every man, at every hour, there are two solicitations, one toward God, the other toward Satan. The call toward God or spirituality is a desire to ascend in rank; the one toward Satan or animal instincts is a joy to descend.” Does this reflection by Charles Baudelaire in Les Fleurs du mal (The flowers of evil) seem enlightening to you?
That great poet agrees with the remarks of Saint Paul about the difficulty of doing good. Remember that the apostle said: “I delight in the law of God, in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin which dwells in my members” (Rom 7:22-23). In man there is a nostalgia for God, a connatural attachment and an aspiration to go toward the Father. However, man still has two sides; he is divided between his search for the good and the power of darkness. Every day the devil seeks to trap us in the nets of temptation. Man looks toward heaven, but the heaviness of the devil attracts him incessantly. From this perspective, prayer, supplemented by penance, is an act of resistance, a sign of not submitting to the prince of this world. I think that the Christian philosopher Simone Weil was right when she said in her book Gravity and Grace: “Creation: good broken up into pieces and scattered throughout evil. Evil is limitless, but it is not infinite. Only the infinite limits the limitless.” This reflection states the truth of our earthly condition. In the same way, she fittingly concluded with this promise about the outcome of our combat: “To say that the world is not worth anything, that this life is of no value, and to give evil as the proof is absurd, for if these things are worthless what does evil take from us?”1
In the history of mankind, God promised us that evil would not have the last word. Through the tribulations of this great struggle, we need to know that we are not alone. Without the help of grace, we are lost children; man is a vine that seeks to climb toward the sun, but it needs a firm tree. For mankind, the Church is that tree; and for the Church, this tree around which to wind, in order to make her children climb to heaven, is Christ.
In the final analysis, does hell exist, or is this just an old-fashioned fable to frighten people?
Hell denotes a definitive separation between God and man. But God never sends someone to hell; damnation is the result of a free choice. Thus, hell exists through an unshakeable will to cut oneself off from God.
However, although no one seeks suffering, the decision not to acknowledge God results in unavoidable consequences. Separation from the Father is a serious act, because man cuts himself off from God, whose son he is. Hell is the opposite of flourishing in God. This suffering is compared to a burning fire because there is nothing more terrible than to kill one’s parents, to make them disappear definitively from one’s heart and from one’s sight.
Today hell is a problem that has been completely erased from approved thought; Satan has even become a sort of purely fictional character. Hence the devil rejoices, because his acts are forgotten and hidden.
Nevertheless, the visions of hell granted to the great saints of the Church are terrifying. I would like to cite the words of Saint Mark, which are particularly clear: “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than with two feet to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, where the worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched. For every one will be salted with fire” (Mk 9:43-49).
Hell is a reality, not an idea. The depictions of the Last Judgment over the entrances to cathedrals are explicit. Certainly, in the West, we have insolently dismissed the question of hell. But in Africa, we believe in the harmfulness of the forces of evil. It would never occur to anyone to deny their existence, their misdeeds, and their methods.
Even today, the devil’s shrewdest trick is to make people believe that he does not exist. However, Pope Francis has not been afraid to talk about Satan from his first Mass after his election to the See of Peter, when he declared: “When we do not profess Jesus Christ, the saying of Léon Bloy comes to mind: ‘Anyone who does not pray to the Lord prays to the devil.’ When we do not profess Jesus Christ, we profess the worldliness of the devil, a demonic worldliness.”
In the Gospel, Christ says explicitly that it is possible to drive out the devil only by prayer and fasting. The Church cannot remain silent about such a powerful teaching.
How is purgatory defined?
I am not unaware of the fact that this notion is very difficult to understand. Some saints have said a lot about this question, for example, Catherine of Siena, who wrote: “If miserable men had any idea of what purgatory and hell are, they would prefer to die ten times than to endure such tortures for a single day.” Likewise, Saint Augustine did not hesitate to address this subject in his sermons: “The apostle says: ‘He will be saved as though through fire. . .’ We think little of this fire because of the words ‘he will be saved’. It is certain, however, that this saving fire will be more terrible than all the sufferings that a man could endure in this life.”
Who is telling the truth? Saint Augustine or we ourselves, who think more or less vaguely that purgatory is an outmoded notion of no interest at all?
Indeed, I would like to start from my animist African roots. Among my pagan ancestors, when a man died of an abrupt illness or in a tragic accident, the body was interrogated. They asked the deceased directly what caused his sudden death.
For example, I remember very clearly a pagan man, originally from a neighboring village, who had died in Ourous as the result of very serious burns. In order to enter his house, the funeral procession would have had to cross a river. But customs forbid crossing a river with a dead body. He was therefore buried not far from Ourous, in the bush. At the time of the funeral ceremonies, I saw those who were carrying his body go forward and then back, only to go suddenly to the right and to the left. I asked my mother the reasons for these strange movements. She explained to me that it was necessary to ask the dead man, who answered by the signs of the movements that he gave to the pallbearers. . . I was very doubtful, but Mama repeated that the power of the dead man was the explanation for these gestures. I remember that the master of ceremonies posed a wide variety of questions to the deceased: the quality of his relationship with his wife, how well he observed customs, his honesty at work, or his respect for his ancestors. Indeed, animists believe that the soul goes wandering in misery and suffering, compelled to do humiliating servile tasks, until it is washed of all its earthly faults. Then, after this period of purification, it will be able to return to the village of the ancestors, which is the equivalent of paradise. Without this ritual, which is the moment of truth, the soul is liable to languish in boredom, isolated, without ties to his brethren. When the soul wanders, it can upset the peace of mind of the living and trouble their business; sacrifices and libations at the foot of sacred pillars are designed to help these souls to return to the village of the ancestors.
In many primitive religions, purgatory is a moment of wandering before “paradise”, which man can experience if his soul is purified according to the traditional rules. Animists did not know revelation for many centuries, but they did have the natural insight into the necessity of a place of transition.
Saint Augustine grew up in a pagan culture, then made the decision to convert to Christianity. His vision of purgatory is therefore particularly interesting. In various passages in his works he explains this belief in more detail. He seems to have had great influence, especially on two points. On the one hand, Augustine fixes the time of the trial of purgatory in the next world: it takes place between the individual judgment, after the death of each man, and the collective judgment or Last Judgment at the end of time. On the other hand, he emphasizes that this trial that necessarily leads to paradise must not be imagined as an easy salvation, because it is very formidable.
For Christians, paradise is the place where men will live in perfect communion with God. It is not possible to reach that light as long as our soul bears the stains of its earthly sins. Purgatory is therefore a time of purification, a moment of preparation for the great journey to God. As during long boat trips, it is a sort of quarantine for sick souls.
We cannot approach God without having a soul that is completely purified; we must be completely refined by the fire of his love. In order to enter into the light of the Father, it is necessary to be irradiated.
Saint Thérèse of Lisieux wrote astonishing things about purgatory: “Listen, this is how great your confidence should be! It should make you believe that purgatory is not made for you, but only for the souls that failed to recognize God’s merciful love or who doubted its power to purify. With those who strive to respond to this love, Jesus is ‘blind’ and ‘does not count’ [their sins], or rather, in order to purify them, he counts only on this fire of charity that ‘covers all faults’ and, especially, on the fruits of his perpetual Sacrifice. Yes, despite your little infidelities, you can hope to go straight to heaven, because the good Lord desires it even more than you do, and he will surely give you what you have hoped to receive of his mercy. Your confidence and your resignation are what he will reward; his justice, which knows your frailty, has been divinely arranged so as to achieve this. As you rely on this assurance, just make sure even more that he does not lose any love!”
Unquestionably, modern Western rationalism has great difficulty in understanding the reality of purgatory. In discussing such a topic, we can see the distance there can be between certain societies and the religious sphere. They can see only fairy tales in it.
Fundamentally, the man who does not want to understand purgatory is no longer able to know who God is. If God is love, then that love burns absolutely and immeasurably. When Moses meets God, he sees a burning fire from which comes a voice that says to him: “I am who am.” The voice tells him not to come too near and to remove his dusty sandals.
We cannot approach God like romantics taking a stroll, seeking nice emotions in an English garden. . . . God demands that we be purified of all the disorderly states that weigh down our heart and darken our soul.
The saints are immediately in the joy of heaven. But for most human beings, purgatory is a difficult, arid antechamber on the way to our Creator, who wants to forgive our temporal faults. God does not render justice in a spirit of vengeance; his measure is not that of men. And so purgatory is a renewal of man. The old man goes away, and the new man comes into the purifying tenderness of God.
Purgatory, therefore, is born of divine love. It is a purifying fire that some identify with God himself.
Why do we sometimes have the feeling that God has fallen asleep?
To answer your question, I would like to quote first the words of Benedict XVI during his last Wednesday audience on February 27, 2013: “Eight years [after accepting the Petrine ministry] I can say that the Lord has truly led me, he has been close to me, I have been able to perceive his presence daily. It has been a portion of the Church’s journey which has had its moments of joy and light, but also moments which were not easy; I have felt like Saint Peter with the Apostles in the boat on the Sea of Galilee: the Lord has given us so many days of sun and of light winds, days when the catch was abundant; there were also moments when the waters were rough and the winds against us, as throughout the Church’s history, and the Lord seemed to be sleeping. But I have always known that the Lord is in that boat, and I have always known that the barque of the Church is not mine but his. Nor does the Lord let it sink; it is he who guides it, surely also through those whom he has chosen, because he so wished. This has been, and is, a certainty which nothing can shake. For this reason my heart today overflows with gratitude to God, for he has never let his Church, or me personally, lack his consolation, his light, his love.”
We often ask this question about the absence of God when we look at the massive presence of evil in our world. When I traveled to the worst disaster sites on earth, to the Philippines after the typhoon or to Jordan in the camps for refugees from the war in Syria, it was not unthinkable to wonder where the Lord really was. If I consider the persecuted, hunted-down Christians who were driven from their homes, forced into exile with no belongings at all, abandoned and humiliated everywhere in the world, I know that despair is quite understandable. As in the Old Testament, we would like God to strike and destroy our enemies. Why does he not answer in such tragic moments?
And yet, day and night the anguished cries of our voices reach his ears: “For your sake we are slain all the day long, and accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord? Awake! Do not cast us off for ever! Why do you hide your face? Why do you forget our affliction and oppression?. . . Rise up, come to our help! Deliver us for the sake of your merciful love” (Ps 44:22-24, 26).
The words of Christ on the Cross echo our doubts precisely. At that time he asked his Father: “Lord, why have you abandoned me?” But Jesus’ cry is an act of unfailing confidence, to tell God that he relies on him alone. This is not a cry of rebellion, but a filial lament. Today too, when we are lost, like the witnesses of the crucifixion, our doubt is still a hope. If we call out to God, it is because we have confidence. Christian doubt is not a moment of despair but another declaration of love.
God is not asleep; he is present despite our searching, which is sometimes too exclusively rational. We are like weeping children who do not understand that our Father remains at our sides forever.
The greatest saints, like Saint Thérèse of Lisieux or Mother Teresa of Calcutta, experienced trials of faith in which they felt abandoned. . . .
Yes, Saint Thérèse had very painful experiences. When she was at the Carmel, it happened that she doubted the very existence of Jesus, the savior of mankind. She experienced terrible moments, dark nights in which God seemed strangely silent. Nevertheless, Thérèse always knew that she was not alone, that the light would finally appear at the end of the tunnel. She knew that God would not leave her indefinitely in darkness. All the saints experienced moments of great doubts. This feeling of abandonment resembles what went through the Heart of Jesus on the Cross: Golgotha alone is the summary of all our dark nights.
Doubt is a moment of purification and strengthening. Hence, just one question arises: Do we still believe when the night remains desperately dark? Do we keep hoping even beyond the easy times? Faith is trust or else it does not exist.
Mother Teresa regarded doubt as a way to discover God’s true face. It is not possible to understand God in abundance and easy blessings. After her rebellion against the trials of poverty that she was experiencing every day, she understood that God never comes to console us for our little despairs or our selfish rebellions. God is absolute love; therefore he can reveal himself only in love.
As I traveled so often to battlefronts, to places of famines or earthquakes, I kept thinking, together with Thérèse of Lisieux, that the little voice of unfailing confidence in divine love was the only possible way.
Yes, we must believe, despite the horrible suffering and violence connected with human folly. Faced with so much pain, we have two options. Rebellion, which will always cause additional difficulties, and love, which will lead us closer to God.
Mother Teresa saw the worst atrocities. But she also understood that suffering could bring about new solidarity, unheard-of blessings, indomitable hope.
Incidentally, we often blame God for many evils without admitting our own responsibility. . . . Without God, the world would be a lasting hell. With God, there is grace; it is the tenderness and the caress of heaven.
How can we continue to believe, “despite the despites”, as Saint Josemaria [Escriva], the founder of Opus Dei, put it?
The Church must always remember the reality of our divine adoption. Thanks to it, we experience the joy and the peace that come from God, and even our weaknesses do not depress us.
We must never forget the moment of Jesus’ death. Despair seemed to cover everything, and the darkness surpassed the light. The apostles were overwhelmed. Despite this enormous tragedy, the women did not renounce their faith. Mary and Mary Magdalen, the sinner from whom Jesus had expelled seven demons, wanted to take care of Jesus’ body and make sure that he had a dignified burial. They could not believe that evil had conquered the Son of God. Mary remained present even after his death because her faith was a rock that no tide could sweep away; she went beyond what is humanly possible.
Today, too, we can get over the disappointments that we feel with regard to the Church or about any other human or Christian matter if we remain in union with God through prayer. We must continue to have absolute trust that we are not alone. Without God, we can do nothing.
Despite sufferings, despite failure, despite evil, our victory is our faith. Saint John writes: “This is the victory that overcomes the world, our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” (1 Jn 5:4-5).
Sometimes the relentless attacks against the words of the pope, against the teaching of the Church, or against morality can cause us to think that evil has won the battle. Some obscure philosophical forces wish to impose silence on the Church so as to govern the world more easily according to its selfish, mercenary, and cruel principles. We must not let down our guard against the noise that would like to annihilate man’s whole interior life by brutalizing him with images and news that are veritable drugs.
It is necessary to believe in spite of everything, because that is our vocation as Christians. We must believe in the future of the Church, which has overcome many crises. We must believe that the victor is still Christ. We must believe with great and loving patience.
Once again, I turn to Saint Augustine, who speaks marvelously about our human condition: “He who wants to find in himself the cause of his joy will be sad, but he who wants to find in God the cause of his joy will always be joyful, because God is eternal. Do you want to have eternal joy? Cling to the One who is eternal.”