“The Lord grant unto him that he may find mercy of the Lord in that day.”—2 Tim. i. 18.

We must now bring to a close the discussion which has been occupying our attention: not that everything has been said that can or ought to be said about it; for the interest of the subject grows with the handling of it, as the various features of it open out to view.

So far we have been dealing with the condition of the faithful dead as it affects themselves, with the mode of their own conscious life in the Intermediate State, and with the nature of their own progressive advance towards perfection. But there is another aspect of the question, about which nothing has hitherto been said, I mean, their relation to us who are still living on earth. A few words, and they must be very few, must be said on this point. It is asked, for example, whether the veil has completely shut out all knowledge of what is passing on earth from those who have gone to their rest. No doubt, we can know very little about this. But, at all events, we do not know enough to warrant us in saying with any confidence that they are aware of nothing that is going on here. It is true that, as has been said, the door that opens between this life and that life only “open inwards,” and that none have come back to tell us what in that after life they knew about us and about our doings on earth. Yet this ignorance of ours is not the same thing as knowledge of the contrary, any more than silence is always equivalent to denial. Because we cannot see with our eyes, nor hear with our ears, and cannot, by our actual senses, put the question to the test, we are not on this account justified in denying. Do we not know almost nothing as to the limits of the powers of the spirit world? All we can say, so far as reason can be our guide, is this, that it is possible that souls in the Intermediate State, if they are conscious of themselves and of their present condition, if they retain memory, if they have means of holding intercourse with one another, may have means of knowing what goes on here: I say that reason will tell us that this is at least possible, and that it is quite impossible to prove the contrary.

But does the Bible throw any light upon this mysterious subject? I think it does. It will be remembered how, in the narrative of the rich man and Lazarus, Abraham is made to say to the rich man, “They have Moses and the Prophets, let them hear them.” We may ask, how could Abraham, who lived more than 400 years before the birth of Moses, have known of the existence of Moses, if there were no possible means of communication, by which occurrences on earth could be made known in the unseen world where Abraham was? What could he know of the prophets who lived more than a thousand years after his time, if no possible communication could find its way to that other world? [96] And we may trust this inference because, in a narrative of this kind, whether it be historical or not, it is not to be supposed that our Lord would have introduced a false detail.

Let us, however, turn to another passage. In the scene on the Mount of the Transfiguration there appeared, talking with Christ, Moses and Elijah. In what condition were they present? They were still in the Intermediate State. The general Resurrection had not, and has not yet, come. “In glory” they appeared. Yes! some outward clothing, as of a bodily form, gloriously radiant was thrown round them, so that they became visible for the time to the eyes of the three disciples. But in no resurrection bodies did they come; for in those they could not yet present themselves, since they had not yet received them. And what was the theme of their conversation? They spoke, we are told, with Christ concerning the exodus or “death, which He should accomplish at Jerusalem.” But how could they speak fitly of this great theme, if they had no knowledge of the circumstances which were leading to it, of the nature of Christ’s Incarnate Life on earth, and something at least or the real significance, known fully to the mind of God only, of His approaching death? They must have known not only of each other, who and what they had been historically in their own generation, but also what was now passing on earth, the course and connection of prophecies and types, and the succession of events in history which had led up to this climax of the fulness of time.

Thus we see that the hearts of these two visitants,—visitants not from Heaven, but from Paradise,—were fastened with a keen interest and strained attention upon the unfolding of that wondrous Life of Christ. His works and words were the theme of their adoring contemplation. May we not learn then, that what these two great Saints could do was, therefore, at least a possible thing to do, and, according to the will of God, a thing which others might also do? [98] If so, the barrier between Paradise and earth is so far transparent on that further side, that what God permits souls in the Intermediate Life to know, that they do actually see and know of the occurrences that are passing here. [99]

But I must hasten to the answer of another question. Do they pray for us? Surely that question is as good as answered by what has just been said. If those who have gone from our sight are still permitted to know what it may be good for them to know of the trials and sorrows, the hopes and fears, the temptations and the warfare to which we, whom they loved so well and still love, are exposed on earth, we are sure that they take thought of us and pray for us. Shall not they whose eyes are opened, now that they are with Christ, care for and pray for those whom they have left behind, tossing still upon the troubled seas, and buffeted by the vexing winds and storms of this earthly life?

They are, moreover, “with Christ.” What does this really imply,—to be “with Christ”? It must mean at least this, that, where Christ is, there is the Church. And Christ, though He has ascended to the Right Hand of God, is still in a true sense in Paradise also. For “He filleth all in all.” [100a] S. Stephen, before his death, prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Our Lord, therefore, must have been there in Paradise to receive it. S. Paul, long after our Lord’s Ascension, knew that to die was better than to live, because it was to be absent from the body and present with the Lord. [100b] But if Christ is there, He must be the object of the worship of those who are also there. So then if Christ be there, and the Church is there, and worship is offered there, then it follows that the whole energy of Church life is there. The souls in Paradise are not so many isolated and individual units. The Church unites them. They are organised in the exercise of worship, sustained, as it surely is, in unfailing and perpetual intensity. As the incense of our worship rises here, it blends with the incense that ascends to Christ there. The Church is militant on earth, it is expectant in Paradise, it will be hereafter triumphant in Heaven. Yet these are not three Churches, but one Church. And this helps us to see more clearly what is meant by the Communion of Saints. The Church on earth and the Church in Paradise are one, and one thrill of spiritual communion vibrates through its members there and here.

But is prayer to be one sided? Communion is not one sided. And communion implies that what they do for us, we should also do for them. This brings us to one more question. May we, then, pray for those who have passed on before us? Let us plainly say that there is every reason for and none against the practice. We have in favour of it the sanction of Bible witness, of primitive Church custom, of Christian and human instinct.

In the Jewish synagogues in our Lord’s time, prayers for the dead formed part of the service. [102] Our Lord therefore, Who regularly frequented the synagogue worship, must have been present at times when prayers for the dead were used. If He had disapproved of such prayers, He must have condemned the use of them. But did He? He did not. We have then His tacit sanction of them. S. Paul again, a Hebrew of the Hebrews, must have warned the Gentiles against the practice, unless he approved of it. But so far from that, there is every reason to suppose that he himself prayed for Onesiphorus. According to the best commentators, Onesiphorus was dead when S. Paul wrote the words quoted in the text, “The Lord grant unto him that he may find mercy of the Lord in that day,” viz., in the Day of Judgment. [103a] He does not pray for temporal blessings, for health, or even for grace. If it was too late to pray for these things, this omission is quite intelligible.

The earliest Church Liturgies contained in them prayers for the dead. [103b] And the earliest Christian writers, as well as the inscriptions on tombs bear such witness to the existence of this primitive practice, that it cannot be disputed. It is true that our English Prayer Book neither expressly sanctions nor yet expressly forbids these intercessions. But in the Liturgy, in the Litany, and in the Burial Service, prayers occur which appear to have been purposely so worded, as to lend themselves to a reference in the minds of worshippers to the faithful dead, if any should desire so to apply them. Bishop Cosin, one of the chief compilers of our present Prayer Book, writes that the words, “that we and Thy whole Church may obtain remission of our sins, and all other benefits of His Passion,” occurring in our Liturgy, are to be understood to refer as well to “those who have been here before,” that is to say, who have died in the Lord, as to those “that are now members of it,” that is, who still are living. [104]

And is not the custom reasonable? Are we to pray for those whom we dearly love up to the very last moment of their life, and then for ever to refrain? We could understand this on the supposition that death was the end of all things, or that at death there followed an immediate heaven or an instant hell; but not if the process of purification and of real Church life are continuing after death. And Christian instinct urges it. God is a Father. As children we ought to tell Him all that is in our heart. Whatever we may rightly desire we may rightly pray for. It is only that which we ought not to desire that we ought not to pray for. It is not right to pray that they may, as by a miracle, be restored to us; that is not the will of God. Nor is it right that we should seek by occult and forbidden ways to hold converse with them. But we may surely ask for them what S. Paul asked for his friend, that they may find mercy in that day, that they may have rest and peace and light and refreshment, the joy of Christ’s Presence, and the gladness of a blessed Resurrection.

And now these words must be brought to a close. The arguments which have been urged rest upon the very language of Holy Scripture, or upon legitimate inferences from it. What then? If they are worthy of trust, to accept them is to rob death of half its fears and alarms. It is the unknown that inspires terror. To know but a little more than we before knew of the land in which those who have gone before now sojourn, is to gather fresh courage to face it with less misgiving for them and for ourselves. They have passed on, but they await us there. They are only hidden from us for a little while. Their voices are silent. But their life is as real a life as ours. No dull oblivion weighs them down. They live and think and see and know,—know, it may be, more of us than we think, know as much of us as it is for their happiness to know. A little while and we also shall know as they know, and see as they see, in the home and resting place of vision and of peace.