It was less than two years after I entered the Dominican monastery in Lima, Peru, that news reached us of the death of Pope Benedict XV. I was a young monk in my late teens at the time, still in the first flush of fervor, devotion and consecration to the Roman Catholic Church, to which I had entrusted my life, both in this world and in the world beyond.
When we were told by our superiors to pray for the poor soul of the Pope, I was stunned into a sort of spiritual paralysis, with questions whirling around my brain like a hurricane around its ominously still center.
How could it be, I said to myself, that the infallible Pope, who once held the keys of heaven and earth, was unable to save himself from the torments of purgatory? If the Holy Father, vicar of Jesus Christ on earth, could not accumulate sufficient merits to secure his direct entrance into heaven at death, how could I, a humble student for the priesthood, ever hope to save my soul? The naked truth, as it then appeared to me, was appalling.
With increasing forcefulness, the questions rushed in upon me, battering my mind, perturbing my soul, dislodging my cherished beliefs from their moorings. What will happen to me if I die? Where will I go? Will I ever reach heaven?
Thinking to still these questions and appease a just but formidable God, I starved myself in the seclusion of my lonely cell and inflicted dire punishments on my unwilling body.
Today I bear the multiple scars of this desperate effort to obtain merits and thereby shorten the years I must spend expiating my sins in purgatory. But the question remained, and for years I was left in the shadows of uncertainty.
About four years later, I was to witness personally the fearful death of a Dominican priest who was devout, highly respected, and almost venerated. I myself regarded him as one of the most saintly men I had ever known. As we stood around his bedside repeating prayers for the dying, we were filled with a nameless horror of the tomb. Not a ray of hope pierced the despair that gripped his soul and contorted his face.
Suddenly, in an anguished tone I can never forget, he cried out, "Go away, all of you! I am going to leap into the dark!"
Leap into the dark! Impossible! How could he, the pious monk who never neglected his religious duties, who counseled so many on virtuous living—how could he be denied the consolation of the church? If religious life had anything to offer, I said, it should at least provide in the hour of death the assurance of eternal life. And yet—it seems as if the whole system was geared to keep us all wondering, doubting, guessing, in a torment of spiritual insecurity.
Within the year, unable to cope any longer with my doubt, and finding no answers within the high walls of the ancient monastery, I left the Dominican Order.
Long years have passed since then, but I thank God that He found me on that dreary morning of my escape, and gave me the assurance that I so much craved, the assurance of sins forgiven and of eternal life.
I had carried a burden that grew heavier with each passing year. Then He said, "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28).
I had been living in mortal fear of death lest all my sins had not been confessed and absolved. But He said in His Word, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:99If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9).
I had prayed to the Blessed Virgin with utmost piety to intercede for my soul. But He said, "I am the way... no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me." John 14:66Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. (John 14:6).
I had been taught that God was a God who weighed my penances against my sins, and was waiting to extract from me the last tortured payment in purgatory. But He said, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through Him might be saved." John 3:16, 1716For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 17For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. (John 3:16‑17).
Today, as I consider my former fellowmen, priests, monks, bishops and laymen, I long to offer them freedom from the terrible fear of death, and the world beyond, that I know from experience overshadows their lives. I long to tell them that Christ, and Christ alone, "is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him." Heb. 7:2525Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them. (Hebrews 7:25).