I remember how surprised I was when I first read C.S. Lewis's views on praying for the dead in Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. He says there (chapter 20):
. . . Which brings me to your question. Of course I pray for the dead. The action is so spontaneous, so all but inevitable, that only the most compulsive theological case against it would deter men. And I hardly know how the rest of my prayers would survive if those for the dead were forbidden. At our age the majority of those we love best are dead. What sort of intercourse with God could I have if what I love best were unmentionable to Him?
On the traditional Protestant view, all the dead are damned or saved. If they are damned, prayer for them is useless. If they are saved, it is equally useless. God has already done all for them. What more should we ask?
But don't we believe that God has already done and is already doing all that He can do for the living? What more should we ask? Yet we are told to ask.
"Yes," it will be answered, "but the living are still on the road. Further trials, developments, possibilities of error, await them. But the saved have been made perfect. They have finished the course. To pray for them presupposes that progress and difficulty are still possible. In fact you are bringing in something like Purgatory."
Well, I suppose I am. Though even in Heaven some perpetual increase of beatitude, reached by a continually more ecstatic self-surrender, without the possibility of failure but not perhaps without its own ardours and exertions--for delight also has its severities and steep ascents, as lovers know--might be supposed. But I won't press, or guess, that side for the moment. I believe in Purgatory.
Lewis did believe in a kind of purgatory, a process of purification, but not the degenerate kind of the 16th century, against which the Protestant Reformers rightly rebelled. Lewis's views on Purgatory will need to be treated at another time.
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