Catholicism Explained: What is Purgatory? Catholic teaching & the Communion of Saints

What do Catholics actually believe about purgatory? In this Catholicism Explained episode, Nicole unpacks the doctrine of purgatory, suffering, and the communion of saints—exploring how Catholic teaching connects living and deceased believers in spiritual community. Far from punishment, this ancient doctrine speaks to healing, belonging, and why your prayers matter for others. Perfect for anyone questioning what Catholics really believe (and why it's so misunderstood).

Scriptures Mentioned:

1 Corinthians 3:15: Saved, but as through fire.

Matthew 12:32: Sins forgiven in the age to come.

2 Corinthians 5:8: The desire to be absent from the body and present with the Lord.

Revelation 5:8 & 8:3-4: The saints offering the prayers of the holy ones as incense.

SUPPORT THE JOURNEY

Follow the show and leave a review to help more restless hearts find us.Facebook: facebook.com/groups/rebelsaintspodcastInstagram: @rebelsaintspodcast
TikTok: @RebelSaintsPodcast
Patreon: patreon.com/RebelSaintsPodcastEmail: rebelsaintspodcast@gmail.com

TRANSCRIPT

Hey rebels, welcome to the Rebel Saints podcast. I’m your host, Nicole Olea, and this is a podcast for people who have restless hearts because our hearts are restless until they rest in Jesus Christ. So if you are someone who’s interested in learning more about the Catholic faith, who wants to grow and develop their relationship with Jesus, or you just like hearing positive stuff, welcome. You are in the right place. Welcome to the Restless Hearts Society.

So I do have to say that I am in the process of bulk uploading several podcasts that are also going to be in video format. So if you haven’t checked out the video version of these podcasts, I encourage you—please do. I don’t know how much editing I’m going to be able to do with them because this is a one-person show and as much as I would love to add imagery and all kinds of cool stuff to the videos, I don’t know that I can necessarily do that. But I’ll do my best. Like I said, I’m recording. I don’t even know what the final product of these videos will look like. But let’s get into today’s topic.

And today we are going to be talking about purgatory and the communion of saints. So I’ve been wanting to tell you this story and I haven’t had the opportunity, but since it inspired today’s topic, what better time than now. I was sitting in a Starbucks drive-thru just waiting for my iced latte before heading into DC to cover the St. Patrick’s Day Mass when out of nowhere this metal gate swung around and smacks the side of my car. And it’s these metal gates that like enclose dumpsters. And I mean, I couldn’t avoid it. And like I was stuck in the line. And I’m assuming I must have been just over the little line, you know, that like delineates what’s the actual driveway. Anyway, this gate damaged my door, the mirror of my four-month-old Tesla. It still had that just-off-the-lot new car smell, you know.

So I drop off my Tesla. I get picked up and the car rental company gives me like a Mazda. I think it was a CX-5. Now, don’t get me wrong, this was a perfectly nice car. I feel like a brat for even saying this because as someone who has driven like used cars, clunkers at any point of my life, I would have been happy to drive that car had I never driven a Tesla. But after just a few months in my Tesla, this new car felt off. The windows, they were dusty when they handed it to me. I mean, the entire car was just not clean and it smelled like cigarette smoke and there was like this weird like greasy kind of filmy texture all over everything. Everything lags just a little. I mean, it’s safe. It’s comfortable. It gets me to where I need to go, but at the same time, it’s not even close. Number one, ’cause it’s not my car, and number two, it’s icky.

And yeah, I’m being a brat. I realize that I am blessed. So I feel like a jerk for even talking about this, but I’m getting to my point. So bear with me, okay? So I’m driving the rental. I’m stuck in traffic on 95. And this thought popped into my mind: This is like purgatory, right? Like, work with me. My brand new Tesla—that’s what a soul looks like right after baptism. You’re forgiven, washed completely clean of sin, and totally free of any past penalties or spiritual baggage. Pristine.

But life happens. We pick up dents and scratches. Even after a really honest confession where God completely forgives our guilt and saves us from eternal separation, we can still carry around leftover attachments, bad habits, and the spiritual wounds that sin leaves behind. Confession restores us to grace, but the damage to our character, it still needs healing. The collision center—that’s purgatory. It’s not an angry waiting room. It’s not a second chance. It’s God’s loving repair shop. The final detail work. So every last imperfection is gone and we’re ready for the full glory we’re made for.

You following me? Is this working? I feel like an ass for even making this comparison. Anyway, the rental’s solid. Even though I got a little bit nauseous driving in it because it did smell like cigarette smoke. I was blessed to have it, but it was nowhere as responsive, beautiful, or quote-unquote alive as what was waiting when I got my Tesla back. And it would be perfectly clean, nice smelling, detailed, and shiny again. That restored Tesla is what heaven is like. A soul completely healed, completely free, totally at home with Jesus. Huh? Huh? Did it work? I don’t even know if that worked. The Mazda is a watered-down version of what God actually is offering us. And right now, it’s covered right in that hazy film that keeps me from seeing everything that’s possible.

So yeah, that story had been rolling around in my head for a while. And honestly, now that I said it, I don’t even know if I’m going to keep it in ’cause I feel like it makes me sound kind more of a brat than what I actually am and a little bit bratty. But I was trying to make a comparison. I did this all the time when I was a youth minister trying to bring things that like from actual life into… I don’t know if that hit. I don’t know. We’ll see. I might keep it in just ’cause I feel like such an… But for this episode, I am talking about purgatory, God’s loving fire, and the communion of saints. Stick around if you still trust me. I don’t know after that. Oh gosh.

If you’ve ever felt like you’re fighting alone, or if you wondered why the Church holds on to these teachings when the world pushes back so hard, stay with me because by the end of this episode, I want you fired up, full of hope, and knowing you are never walking by yourself. The Holy Spirit is in full self-driving mode for this one, rebels.

That’s purgatory and the communion of saints. A lot of people hear purgatory and picture some gloomy waiting room like in the film Beetlejuice or perhaps a second chance after death. First, I want to set the record straight on what purgatory actually is. It’s not a third final destination. It’s not punishment from an angry God. It’s the final healing for souls who die in God’s grace and friendship but still carry the leftover mess of sin. Attachments, wounds, habits, little rebellions against God that never fully surrendered. Nothing impure can stand in the blazing presence of God’s perfect holiness and love. Heaven isn’t just better weather. It’s total communion with divine love. So if we belong to Christ, but we’re not fully like him yet, his love finishes what he started. Purgatory is the application of the cross’s power in us. It’s God saying, “I’m not done making you radiant, and I love you so much to leave you unfinished.”

So think of it like this. Heaven is perfect union. It’s that open road on a tree-lined street in the most perfect car commercial you have ever seen. Windows are down. Sun is on your face and every single thing is responding exactly as it should. Total freedom and joy. You’ve got those leaves blowing behind you in your wake. You can see it, right? So that’s heaven.

Hell is the final definitive no to God. That soul is totaled. Head straight to the junkyard by its own choice. No hope left. Purgatory—that’s the collision center. It’s the refiner’s fire. The last loving repair so every imperfection gets fixed. It’s the final stretch that gets us ready for the wedding feast. Not punishment, restoration. God loves us too much to hand us back anything less than flawless.

You know, I just love how St. Catherine of Genoa put it. She experienced visions of this state and said, “The souls in purgatory rejoice in the fire because they know it’s love doing the burning.” These souls wouldn’t want to enter heaven one second before they’re ready. That’s hope-filled suffering. That’s not despair. That’s not what you find in hell.

And so I can already hear the objections. So I’m just going to tackle them one by one, okay.

The first one, and it’s like screaming right here in my ear, and that’s “the Bible never mentions purgatory.” The word doesn’t appear, sure, just like the word Trinity doesn’t. But the reality is woven all throughout Scripture. St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 3 talks about a person whose work is built on Christ but is tested by fire. He says the person will be saved but only through fire. Saved but through fire. That can’t be hell because people in hell aren’t saved. It can’t be the full immediate joy of heaven either because there is no pain or testing there. It is the process of purification. Jesus himself says some sins will be forgiven in the age to come. And you can find that in Matthew 12 verse 32. The early Church prayed for the dead from the very beginning. The catacombs are full of inscriptions asking for prayers.

And I’ve been down into the catacombs in Rome under the Vatican. I’ve been to what they believe is St. Peter’s like grave or tomb. And all over inscribed on these walls are things like “Peter, pray for me.” These were Christians who knew Peter writing these things. These were Christians who knew people that knew Peter that came and wrote and did this graffiti on these walls. I’m not making this up. You can go and do the tour. It’s called the Scavi tour and you can see it for yourself. I mean, you can even do it online now. So don’t take my word for it. But why bother if those souls are already in perfect bliss or beyond all help?

The next big objection I can hear is “Christ’s sacrifice was sufficient. Purgatory denies the cross.” And on the surface it sounds very valid, right? But friend, never. Purgatory is entirely powered by the cross. It doesn’t add to what Jesus did. It applies the infinite merits of his blood until every last wound is healed. That’s a huge difference between the eternal punishment for sin, which Christ took completely, and the temporal consequences and interior damage sin leaves behind.

Imagine a dad who destroys his family with anger but then repents on his deathbed. God forgives his guilt instantaneously. But does every scar, every selfish groove in his soul just vanish? Forgiveness is instant. Transformation though takes the love of Christ’s full work. Even here on earth, sanctification is usually gradual. Why would it stop at death? And yes, it is finished. Redemption is complete. But we can still grow in holiness after baptism, can we not? So we still carry crosses. Finished work—it shows its power is alive in us. Same thing after death.

Another objection I hear or I’ve seen is “but absent with the body is to be present with the Lord.” Absolutely. For souls in grace. Purgatory isn’t separation from Christ’s ownership. They belong to him completely. But they aren’t experiencing the full face-to-face beatific vision. The intense pain of purgatory is the beautiful aching desire of seeing perfect beauty just out of reach while you’re still getting cleaned up. These are saved souls. They aren’t scared of hell. They are on fire with a longing to finally throw themselves into his arms like a bride almost at the altar.

And I guess like maybe this is another way I can kind of help substantiate this. Okay, think of a mother in labor experiencing all the labor pains. I have three children. I would experience that a thousand times over, a thousand times a day for a thousand years and more if it meant I get to have my kids. No question. And it’s that kind of same thing, right? It’s knowing that at the end I’ll get my greatest love, right? Same kind of idea here, rebels.

Another kind of objection: A loving God would not make people suffer after death. Rebels, full disclosure. It took me a hot minute to wrap my brain around this because honestly, the exact precise nature of purgatory’s purification hasn’t actually been revealed fully. Like, we don’t have all the details, okay? And it’s just one of those mysteries. So the Church’s dogmatic teachings are reserved. The imagery of fire comes from Scripture and from the language of purification, refinement, and burning away of what’s imperfect. Yet, the Church has never definitively taught that the fire of purgatory is material, physical fire, like earthly fire. Still, the purification is real. And yes, the tradition consistently teaches that it does involve suffering.

If you are a Protestant listening, we Catholics embrace the reality of suffering. And that’s the idea of prosperity theology or health and wealth gospel or like the name-it-and-claim-it movement. And if you spend any time at all on late-night religious TV or perhaps even on several prominent Protestant pastors and social media influencers, you’ve seen it. And no shade to those folks. Anyone who brings people to Jesus, I send big puffy hearts to for real. But the idea of this prosperity theology is the idea that if you have just enough faith and say the right positive confessions, God is basically a vending machine that drops off a new car and a clean bill of health. They call it seed faith. The idea that if you give money, God is contractually obligated to pay you back with interest. And if you ask me, this sounds an awfully lot like buying indulgences. Catholic churches are guilty of that, right? But when you know better, you do better.

So let me go back to what I was saying, why I brought this up. And this is where Catholic Christianity and Protestant prosperity theology have a massive head-on collision on the meaning of suffering. For those who prescribe to the health and wealth theology, if you’re sick or broke, it’s seen as a lack of faith or like a spiritual fail, which boggles my mind for real. Because for a group of people who quote the Bible so extensively, I can’t help but wonder if their copy was missing. Like if their copy was different than my copy, which I know technically, yes, the Catholic Bible has more books. Yes, it does. We didn’t take any out, but I’m talking about the New Testament here, okay? And I can’t help but wonder if their version is different. In the New Testament, if suffering means you failed, then everyone failed. So according to this prosperity theory in the New Testament, if suffering means you failed, then everyone failed. Am I right?

I mean, Christ himself suffered, did he not? The apostles were martyred. The saints, the most successful Christians in history, suffered immeasurably. The Son of God didn’t save the world through visible prosperity. I repeat, the Son of God did not save the world through visible prosperity. He did it through the cross. Any theology that treats a hard time as a spiritual failure is just wrong. It misses the whole point of Jesus because Jesus did not say take up your wealth and follow me. He said take up your cross.

I am going to do a deep dive into the redemptive power of suffering in a future episode because I know a lot of Protestant brothers and sisters really struggle with the Catholic obsession with the cross. But I wanted to give you some context because if suffering has a purpose here, it makes a lot more sense why God would use a purifying fire in purgatory.

So with that in mind, let’s get back to purgatory. Their suffering comes not from fear of rejection, but from the intense longing to be perfectly united with the God they already love. One might compare it to awakening fully to love after having wounded someone you deeply care about. The pain comes from seeing clearly, loving, and longing completely for perfect communion. The fire therefore is often understood by theologians primarily as the fire of divine love itself. God’s holiness burns away selfishness, pride, attachment to sin, spiritual laziness, and every remaining imperfection.

The saints sometimes described purification as painful because the soul now sees with complete clarity what sin truly was. On earth we often excuse ourselves, remain distracted or hide from the truth. After death, illusion disappears. The soul encounters truth directly. And yet this suffering is inseparable from joy. Because the soul simultaneously experiences overwhelming love, perfect hope, and an absolute certainty of heaven. The souls in purgatory wouldn’t choose to flee purification because they now desire holiness completely. Divine love has conquered all resistance.

Think of it like this. If you have a bunch of broken jewelry and you take it to a jeweler to have a beautiful new piece made from it, the gold has to be melted down, right? The imagery of gold being purified in fire is like all over Scripture. Fire destroys impurities, but not the gold itself. In fact, the fire exists because the gold is precious. Therefore, the purification hurts not because God delights in pain, but because the transformation itself is profound. Even in our earthly life, healing can be painful. Repentance hurts. Surrender hurts. Learning humility hurts. Letting go of selfishness hurts. And true conversion hurts. And yet these pains are life-giving.

Some saints and theologians spoke vividly about purgatory’s suffering while others emphasized more strongly its joy and peace. The Church allows freedom in imagining the details so long as the essential dogmatic truths remain. Purification is real. The souls are saved and God’s mercy governs the entire process. At its core, the fire of purgatory is the fire of God’s love encountered without the barriers we still cling to on earth. For the soul still imperfectly purified, infinite holiness is overwhelming. But that same holiness, it heals, transforms, and prepares the soul for the beatific vision.

The end of purgatory, it’s not punishment for its own sake. Its end is this: that the soul may finally love God with an undivided heart.

And what of the thief on the cross, you ask? Jesus told him, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Why did he get to skip the waiting room? Because his radical conversion, his public defense of Christ, and his brutal suffering on his own cross united him perfectly to Jesus. He underwent his purification right there at Calvary, cooperating fully with grace in his final moments. Purgatory isn’t a one-size-fits-all legal sentence. Some saints are made ready right here on earth through grace, intentional penance, intentional love, or martyrdom. God’s mercy meets each soul exactly where it needs to be met. Kind of like when you’re a parent and you have more than one child, you quickly discover that you have to parent each child for exactly who they are. Purgatory only makes sense inside the bigger reality and that is the communion of saints.

Rebel, you are not a lone ranger Christian. You’re part of one massive body existing in three states, one family. And those states are the Church Militant. And that’s us right here still fighting on earth. Not militant like soldiers with guns. Spiritual combat against sin, temptation, the devil, and our own messy hearts. We are the pilgrims, the rebels saying yes to grace every single day.

Next is the Church Suffering. Our brothers and sisters in purgatory being healed in that loving fire. They’re saved, certain of heaven, and they long for it with everything they’ve got.

Next is the Church Triumphant. The saints in glory fully alive face to face with God cheering us on like the biggest loudest stadium crowd you have ever imagined. Death didn’t break the body of Christ. Jesus conquered it. So the unity is stronger than the grave. St. Paul says, “If one part suffers, we all suffer. If one rejoices, we all rejoice.” That still happens across heaven, purgatory, and earth.

Let’s look at Revelation. The saints and elders in heaven offer our prayers like incense before God’s throne. They see us. They care. They pray. Mary isn’t competing with Jesus. She’s the one who said yes perfectly and now points us all to Jesus by helping us do the same. The saints aren’t some like distant far-off person who lived long ago. They’re family who made it home to Sunday dinner. And they want you at the table, too.

This is a rebellion against the modern loneliness epidemic. In a world that wants you isolated and scrolling, the Church says you are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses and a love that refuses to end.

Common pushback on this from our Protestant brothers and sisters is “there’s only one mediator and that’s Jesus.” True, 100%. No arguing there. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t participate in his mediation. You ask a friend to pray for you, right? That doesn’t replace Jesus. It joins in what he’s doing. The saints do the same thing only perfectly because they’re already perfected in glory.

Another thing you will hear Protestants say is “just go straight to God. Why bother with the saints?” And that’s just proof that they misunderstand completely what we believe about the saints. Asking a saint is like texting your best friend, “Hey girl, pray for me.” Except these friends are closer to Christ than anyone on earth.

What about that? Sounds like necromancy. Nah. Necromancy is an occult practice conjuring spirits for dark power or secret future knowledge apart from God. Catholics, we don’t want, we don’t accept. No, we don’t subscribe to that, friends. Not at all. We’re just asking our living family in Christ to intercede for us. That’s a big difference. Huge difference. The early Church did this from day one, honoring the martyrs at their tombs, like I mentioned earlier, and asking for their prayers.

The “just me and Jesus alone in a room” like have you seen like people turn their closets into like prayer rooms and stuff? The “just me and Jesus alone in a room in isolation.” That’s like a newer invention because it’s not what the early Christians did and it’s certainly not what Catholics do. I’m actually going to take a deeper dive into saints in the next episode where I really dive into what Catholics actually believe. But in the context of purgatory, I had to talk about our communion of saints and these souls in heaven.

So what does this mean for us rebels? It means your prayers for the holy souls matter. Your small sacrifices, your rosary offered for them, your Mass intentions—they provide real spiritual help. And guess what? They’re praying for you and me right back. It’s a beautiful loop of mutual charity that crosses death. It means when you feel alone in the fight, you’re not. A whole cloud of witnesses is rooting for you. Why don’t you pick one saint this week? Maybe your confirmation saint, maybe St. Thérèse of Lisieux or St. Joan of Arc or St. John of the Cross. Talk to them like family. Tell them what’s weighing on your heart. Watch what happens.

Let’s pray. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the grace that unites us in Jesus Christ. We pray that your Holy Spirit will guide all Christians back to the truth of your Gospel. May our shared love for the Scriptures and our devotion to your cross heal our divisions. Help us to stand together in faith, serving the world as one family in your name. Amen.

Rebel saints, purgatory and the communion of saints together shout one loud message and that’s God’s mercy is thorough. He doesn’t just pardon us. He makes us radiant. He finishes the work and gives us each other so no one has to walk home alone. Live holy right now. Let the sacraments, prayer, fasting, and your daily crosses purify you here so the journey after death is shorter or even skipped. And never forget the holy souls in purgatory. Pray for them. They’re counting on us.

Well, rebels, that’s all I got for you for this episode. If you think it could help anyone, anyone at all, please share it with someone. Leave a review. Come find us on Patreon, on socials. You can watch us on video now, which is totally cool and a little bit nerve-wracking, not gonna lie. All right, guys. Stay rebellious against anything that waters down what Christ gave us. Go to confession if it’s been a while. Pray for the dead. And remember the heaven is cheering for you right now.

I’m Nicole and this is Rebel Saints for restless hearts called to be saints. Restless heart. You are welcome here.