Column Indulgences out of the attic for the new millennium
By TIM UNSWORTH
The recent news that John Paul II, in his pre-Christmas document,
Incarnationis Mysterium (The Mystery of the Incarnation),
had reawakened the somnolent practice of reaping indulgences turned my mind
back to the days when I collected both baseball cards and indulgences. My
school knickers sagged under the weight of my Heine Manush and Van Lingle Mungo
cards, while my soul groaned with the burden of enough plenary indulgences to
clean out purgatory.
I needed none of the superabundant satisfaction lesser souls
withdrew from the overburdened accounts of the Blessed Mother and the saints. I
had enough frequent pray-er miles to hasten the healing process for every kid
at St. Alices, except for Ed Tunney -- who stole thousands of partials
from Bernadette Mosers indulgence book, which she hid in her lunch
bucket. Besides, Tunney was never in the state of grace since the day he kissed
Libby Swanik on the lips in the cloakroom. Never mind that I would have given
two plenaries and a Heine Manush card to kiss Libby Swanik on the lips.
Besides, informed readers will recall, I could not trade a 300-day
indulgence for a smooch from Libby. One could apply them only to suffering
souls in purgatory. (They now may be applied to the living and the dead.)
However, the ancient practice of the mathematician of penance once
enabled me to pile up enough indulgences to equal one pilgrimage to Jerusalem,
which I actually tried to trade with Libby Swanik, but she smacked me right in
the mouth with the holy water bucket.
In any case, the popes document proclaimed 2000 as a Holy
Year and offered plenary indulgences to those who visited St. Peters or
one of three other basilicas in Rome, provided the visit was accompanied by
sacramental confession, reception of the Eucharist, prayers for the intention
of the pope and works of mercy and penance. For those who cant get to
Rome, there are alternate distribution centers, including local cathedrals or
any church designated by the local bishop.
Today, the practice of gaining indulgences is relatively unknown.
Allegedly, there was debate within the Vatican itself about their distribution
during the Holy Year that stretches from Christmas Eve 1999 to January 6, 2001.
Even conservative bureaucrats were content to let sleeping indulgences -- or a
sleeping Martin Luther -- lie rather than to drag an anachronism into the third
millennium. But John Paul II prefers to open the vaults of what we used to call
the spiritual treasury of the church.
I loved indulgences. They, along with batting averages, taught me
mathematics.
I varied my distribution policy. Once, I decided to apply my
spiritual Green Stamps to the soul who had been in purgatory the longest. On
the way home from church, I spotted a guy in a toga frolicking on the church
lawn and figured he was a good candidate. I floated home and told my mother,
but she assured me that it was only Mr. McGonagle in his nightgown, under the
influence of a creature which she said he made in his bathtub.
My mother was a believer par excellence. Youll answer
for that, she would chide my father, who claimed he was exactly six feet
tall. (Church teaching, in my mothers indulgence-stuffed soul, held that
only Jesus was exactly six feet tall.) But she often gave bad advice,
suggesting, for example, that I assign a portion of my treasury to the soul
closest to heavens gate. I would reluctantly contribute seven years and
seven quarantines, probably only to have some Visigoth go zooming by a poor
Canterbury pilgrim who had laughed at one of Chaucers stories.
Its very powerful, Sr. Ursulina used to remind
us of the three-word aspiration, My Jesus Mercy. It could be prayed
fast and was worth at least seven years. I learned to say it so fast that I
developed carpal tunnel syndrome of the neck, bowing my head at the name Jesus
with the agility of a Jewish pilgrim at the Wailing Wall. I couldnt tote
up my indulgences in my little book fast enough. Souls were flying out of
purgatory like fat off of sizzling bacon.
The history and theology of indulgences are complicated. While
baptism removed all traces of sin and penance assured reconciliation, there
remained some vestiges, called temporal punishment, that clung to the soul like
used gum. As early as the third century, the intercession of confessors and
those awaiting martyrdom was allowed by ecclesiastical authorities to shorten
the canonical discipline for those under penance. Later, the introduction of
indulgences was an easy transition.
With the beginning of the Crusades, indulgences became both
popular and monetary. Christians who couldnt ride a horse or lug a spear
could donate money. The crusaders themselves got a plenary at the moment of
death, making it one of the toughest indulgences to earn.
Years later, Martin Luther would base part of his reformation on
his opposition to indulgences, which he saw as denying the gratuity of
Gods grace and the fullness of Jesus redemptive act. The Council of
Trent supported indulgences but, centuries later, Vatican II called for a
reformulation of both the theology and practice of indulgences.
In 1967, Paul VI wrote a response (Indulgentiarum Doctrina)
in which he tried to avoid any commercial overtones. The number of plenary
indulgences was greatly reduced, and partial indulgences were no longer
measured in days and years. In essence, he made the use of indulgences
completely voluntary.
But all that was after my time. During my youth, my rosary alone
was so loaded with indulgences that I had to carry it in a wheelbarrow. Every
mission priest who came to the parish brought another rosary indulgence that
had been usually given to the congregations founder. Two laps around the
rosary and Ivan the Terrible, followed by Rasputin, would zoom by my pew.
The four pages of instruction that accompany John Pauls
recent letter present new opportunities for remitting the temporal punishment
due to forgiven sins. Now, for example, by abstaining from alcohol for a full
day and giving the money saved to charity, one can gain some unspecified merit.
I must therefore choose between the delayed pleasure of a spiritual upgrade and
the proven pleasure of a Jack Daniels.
Sin, at least venial sin, bespeaks an unhealthy attachment to
creatures -- like Libby Swanik and Jack Daniels -- which must be purified
either here on earth or after death in the state called purgatory. The new
catechism tells us that this process must not be seen as a kind of vengeance
inflicted by God from without, but in my youth I sure saw it that way. My
adolescent devotion to the Blessed Mother was fueled largely by a fear of a God
of huge muscles who wielded a sword that could dismember a brontosaurus.
My slide down the slippery slope to an overdrawn indulgence
account started when my friend Harry came to me with two venials and a mortal,
which he had incurred when he baptized his cat. He had confessed all to our
pastor, a man gifted with poor hearing. Harry was free from eternal punishment,
but the temporal debt was cluttering his soul.
Harry had a rare Rube Wadell card that I desperately needed for my
collection. My fallen nature won out, and I gave from my treasury to help
Harrys overdraft. I reasoned that, if the saints and Mary could
distribute from their superabundant graces, I could be just as generous, and
have my Rube Wadell in the bargain.
I was reminded of my selfishness almost immediately when I tried
to bail out one of St. Augustines old girlfriends and found myself two
quarantines short. She simmered while I stared at my ill-gotten Rube
Wadell.
There was no stopping me after that. Although I still had enough
indulgences saved to put off the old man and put on the new
man, as the catechism urged, I fell victim to a human oil slick of a kid
who didnt even go to St. Alices. I turned over my entire account
book to him in exchange for a Mel Ott. Soon after, when Sister asked us to come
up front and show our account books, I had nothing but the loose change of a
few hundred My Jesus Mercies. She inflicted temporal punishment
that I could understand.
Now, John Paul II has brought indulgences down from the
churchs vast attic in time for the millennium. In fairness, he
doesnt view the indulgence system as a credit card payback. There is no
price book in his exhortation. Hes trying to give support to the spirits
of penitence and charity. Hes not trying to spring Mussolinis
mother on whom I lavished five rosaries.
Who knows? It might be a booster shot to the millennium.
Im concerned that its not everybodys millennium.
For those who follow the ancient Egyptian calendar, it will be 6236; for the
Jews, it will be 5760. The Mayans will celebrate 5119 and the Muslims will
raise their fannies to 1420.
Im not even certain that it will be my millennium, but if
indulgences will raise our hearts and minds to God, especially toward works of
charity -- then lets meet the millennium at the door with a plenary or
two.
Tim Unsworth writes from Chicago where he still remembers the
seven gifts and 12 fruits of the Holy Spirit. To gain an indulgence, contact
him at unsworth@megsinet.net
National Catholic Reporter, January 8,
1999
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