Purgatorial universalism—the view that the departed (perhaps excepting the saints) will undergo a period of therapeutic cleansing, healing, chastisement, sanctification in preparation for final theosis—has been the dominant universalist model for the past two millennia. Its advocates have included Clement of Alexandria, Origen of Alexandria, Diodore of Tarsus, St Gregory of Nyssa, Theodore of Mopsuestia, St Maximus the Confessor (maybe), William Law, Friedrich Schleiermacher, Thomas Erskine, George MacDonald, Thomas Allin, Sergius Bulgakov, Thomas Talbott, David Bentley Hart. In his infinite love, God will not give up on even the most wicked. After their death, he will find a way to bring sinners to faith, repentance, holiness, glory. Such is the promise of Pascha.

Andrew Hronich decidedly prefers the purgatorial model of universal salvation over its less-popular alternative—instantaneous transformation (or “naïve universalism,” as Michael Murray named it).¹ He believes that the instantaneous model poses a serious problem for the continuity of personal identity. Not only does it bypass free will, imposing a personality and eschatological destiny the individual has not consciously chosen, but it creates a situation in which the glorified individual may not recognize himself as the historical person he once was. Having died in an unrepentant state, the glorified soul awakens in heaven as a totally different person. Instead of indifference to or hatred of God, he inexplicably finds himself delighting in the divine symphony of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He looks around and discovers that he now loves everyone, including Uncle Frank. “What the frack is going on‽” he exclaims. “This is all wrong. I am all wrong.” Instead of experiencing his transfiguration as boon and blessing, he finds himself in the midst of a full-blown identity crisis. While he retains the memories of who he was before he lost consciousness in death, he has no memories of doing anything that would explain his new set of desires and feelings nor memories of anything having been done to him. He has become a conundrum to himself. “Who the hell am I‽”

Hronich cites an argument advanced by David Brown, originally intended as a defense of purgatory:

1. We know and can identify ourselves only through continuity with our past.
2. Therefore, the more dramatic the contrast in character between a person A at time x and person B at a subsequent time y, the more likely is the latter individual B to doubt whether he could in fact be the same person as person A at time x.
3. But Heaven with its perfection of character constitutes such a dramatic contrast to our earthly existence.
4. Therefore, unless there is an intermediate stage between earth and Heaven, the resurrected individual could have no reasonable grounds for believing himself to be the same person as the person to whose earthly existence he allegedly corresponds.
5. Accordingly, to save the coherence of the doctrine of Heaven, an intermediate state of Purgatory must be postulated.²

While I’m not convinced that the Brown–Hronen identity objection defeats the death and glory hypothesis, I do believe that it intimates the fittingness of a post-mortem form of existence in which the person cooperates with grace in the necessary work to become ready for heaven.

Hronich spends several pages presenting the history of the doctrine of purgatory. Initially I thought this curious, given the substantive differences between the universalist purgatorial model and the Latin models; but then I remembered that Once Loved Always Loved is primarily addressed to an evangelical audience that is probably hostile not only to all things purgatorial but to the possibility of post-mortem repentance. Hronich notes that the two historic models of purgatory—the satisfaction model and the sanctification model—have existed in the Church since the early centuries.³ Both agree that repentance is impossible after death, yet each has a different purpose. In the satisfaction model, souls are punished for sins not fully expiated in life; in the sanctification model, souls are subjected to a process of education, healing, deliverance, and deeper conversion; in both, the inhabitants of purgatory are guaranteed a place in heaven. Over the past century, the sanctification  model has become the dominant model in Catholicism, as reflected in its Catechism:

All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven. The Church gives the name Purgatory to this final purification of the elect, which is entirely different from the punishment of the damned.⁴

For universalist purposes, Hronich proposes that the two traditional models be combined to describe the postmortem condition that is neither “hell” nor “purgatory”:

Maybe one might suggest that a sanctification model of Purgatory can be applied to the saints, whilst a satisfaction-sanctification model can be applied to the damned. Overtime, as the damned receive God’s grace and participate in His sanctifying power, they willingly submit to their purgatorial pains as a penitent child submits to their loving parent’s discipline. Punishment is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly if reconceptualized as penance.⁵

If universalism is true, then the noun hell must be deleted from the gospel lexicon: hell does not exist. The God of love does not interminably punish his children, nor does he abandon them to darkness and alienation. Perhaps, suggests Hronich, we might name the intermediate state purgatory, so as to clearly state its purpose.⁶

The question remains: Assuming the possibility of post-mortem repentance, how might God bring the wicked to contrition and faith? The Letter to the Hebrews hints at the answer: “For our God is a consuming fire” (Heb 12:29).

What exactly is it that God consumes? Does He consume the individual? Or does He consume the individual’s false nature, his old self? To help illustrate, we must first contemplate one of the qualities of fire. It acts as a source for purification by which it melts the dross and rottenness that has attached itself to that of purer substance (such as gold) and leaves it in its untainted form. Similarly, the prophet Malachi describes God as “like a refiner’s fire and like a fuller’s soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver” (Mal 3:2–3).⁷

Imagine that in the moment of death we are brought into the divine fire that is God. Will this be a moment of joy or terror or perhaps both? This is divine judgment—revelation of God, revelation of ourselves. We will finally know the truth of the life we have lived, of who and what we have become. But most importantly we will know the true identity of our Creator and the depth of redeeming his love for us. The lies we have long told ourselves will no longer be possible. There is only reality. “It is a fearful thing,” declares the author of Hebrews, “to fall into the hands of the living God” (Heb 10:31).

In his consuming love God intends our perfection and holiness. He will be satisfied with nothing less that we become saints, not only in name but in reality. In the purgatory of the afterlife, he will heal and purify and make is fit for heaven. As Thomas Merton expresses it:

It is only the fire of God, Who is a consuming Fire, that can refine us like gold, and separate us from the slag and dross of our selfish individualities to fuse us into this wholeness of perfect unity that will reflect His own Triune Life forever.⁸

Conclusion

I will be concluding my review series of Once Loved Always Loved with this article. There’s actually one more chapter I might write on, but this seems like a good place for me to stop.

I have to admit that reading this book cover to cover has been both an instructive and  frustrating experience for me. Instructive—because it really does provide an almost-comprehensive survey of the principal arguments in favor of the doctrine of universal salvation, with substantive rejoinders to objections. Frustrating—because it is clear that the book did not receive the kind of editorial and proofreading attention that it deserves. The hardcopy sells for $53 and the paperback for $43; in other words, it’s an expensive title. At these prices, readers rightly expect a well-prepared volume, yet that is not what we are given. A few typos and badly constructed sentences  may be forgiven; but as the number increases, the experience of reading becomes exasperating, despite the substance.

And yes, Once Loved Always Loved is full of substance. Andrew Hronich appears to have read all the serious works on the topic. His bibliography is a treasure. I particularly appreciated his extensive reading of philosophical articles that address the coherence of universalist claims. In his citations Hronich goes well beyond the usual suspects—Thomas Talbott, Eric Reitan, Jerry Walls—and introduces us to scholars whose writings are probably unfamiliar to us. This is one of the strengths of the book.

Hronich is an evangelical, raised in a Calvinist–fundamentalist household, with experience in evangelical apologetics. This means that he is comfortable around Scripture. (I’m betting he has memorized huge swaths of the Bible.) He knows firsthand the biblical arguments advanced to support the doctrine of eternal perdition and is prepared not only to refute them but to competently present the biblical arguments in favor of universal salvation. On the other hand, his apologetic posture does bring its own weaknesses.

Despite its flaws, I recommend Once Loved Always Loved to all who are interested in diving deeper into the topic of universal salvation. There is no other book quite like it. This is not, however, an elementary text. It presupposes a certain level of biblical and theological knowledge, however acquired. If you are passionate about the subject or just want to explore some of the more sophisticated discussions on the subject, this is a title you want on your bookshelf. But remember: caveat emptor.

Footnotes

[1] See “Death and Glory” and “The Naiveté of Naïve Universalism.” Though the data is limited and fragmentary, it is possible that the instantaneous model goes back to the early patristic period. I’m thinking of those who taught that God will deliver the damned in response to the intercessions of the Church.

[2] Andrew Hronich, Once Loved Always Loved (2023), 289. See David Brown, “No Heaven Without Purgatory,” Religious Studies, 2I (1985): 447-456. I read Brown’s essay many years ago back in my Anglican days. I found it interesting and stimulating but not compelling, even though I was already a believer in purgatory. Given that we are speaking of those who have died in a state of grace and are therefore irreversibly oriented to God in love, why should their instantaneous sanctification pose a problem for them, no matter how dramatic the changes? These would be changes, after all, for which they would have prayed: freedom from the power of sin, deliverance from disordered desires, healing of painful memories, the transformation of imperfect love into perfect love. No doubt they are and will be experienced as dramatic but also as wonderful, liberating, and very, very welcome. Besides, Jesus and the saints will be right there to answer our questions. Brown’s identity thesis no doubt gains cogency, however, when applied to the instantaneous sanctification model, which embraces both the just and the wicked.

[3] See Isabel Moreira, “Purgatory in Historical Perspective,” St Andrews Encyclopedia of Theology (2023; online); M. F. Egan, “The Two Theories of Purgatory,” Irish Theological Quarterly, 17 (1922): 24-34; Neal Judisch, “Sanctification, Satisfaction, and the Purpose of Purgatory,” Faith and Philosophy, 26 (2009): 167-185. Catholic and Orthodox theologians vigorously disputed on purgatory during the Council of Florence (15th c.). The Orthodox were particularly troubled by the Latin construal of a punitive purgatory. When God forgives sin, retribution ceases. See Demetrios Bathrellos, “Love, Purification, and Forgiveness versus Justice, Punishment, and Satisfaction,” Journal of Theological Studies, 65 (2014): 78-121; and A. Edward Siecienski, Beards, Azymes, and Purgatory (2022), chap. 8. Strictly speaking, Eastern Christianity does not have a doctrine of purgatory, as it does not teach that the final destiny of a person is definitively determined at death (i.e., the particular judgment). Through the intercessions of the saints and the prayers of the faithful, God may choose to save even a hardened reprobate. And if one, perhaps many, perhaps all. In the Words of Dumitru Staniloae: “Through our prayers we keep eternally alive those who were. None is definitively lost.” The Experience of God (2013), VI:101.

[4] Catechism of the Catholic Church, §§1030-31. See John Paul II, “Purgatory,” General Audience (4 August 1999). The fact that the punitive model of purgatory has virtually disappeared in standard Catholicism represents a remarkable example of doctrinal development. For Protestant appreciations of the sanctification model, see Justin D. Barnard, “Purgatory and the Dilemma of Sanctification,” Faith and Philosophy, 24 (2007): 311-330; and Jerry Walls, Purgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation (2011), and “Purgatory for Everyone,” First Things (April 2002). For an explicit adoption of purgatory as expression of the greater hope, see my article “Hell as Universal Purgatory.”

[5] Hronich, 296.

[6] Ironically, in the 8th century the Venerable Bede specifically defended Purgatory as an orthodox response to the heresy of apokatastasis: “In Bede,” writes Isabel Moreira, “we have the evidence that the rise of purgatory in the West could be viewed as a direct response to, and repudiation of, universal salvation and the Origenist views of purgation that had supported it. Repudiation of universal salvation provided purgatory with a theological justification. Bede, and perhaps others, saw purgatory as a positive response to, and clarification of, Origen’s unacceptable but possibly appealing theological idea. In so doing, Bede moved beyond Augustine’s disapproval of the lax views of salvation circulating in his time to point the finger directly, and only, at Origen. . . . Origen had opened the door to the ultimate salvation of all souls. Bede’s purgatory, with its ability to purge even serious crimes, by contrast, . . .  offered salvation to many souls: an assurance to Christians that they would be admitted to heaven if in life they partook in the sacraments, confessed their sins, and expressed willingness to do penance. After death they could continue their path to salvation through pain in purgatory and through the charitable offices of living friends who could offer prayers, tears, alms, fasting, and masses. Purgatory was, in essence, a highly limited and circumscribed response to the appeal of universal salvation: it was an orthodox variation on universalism.” Isabel Moreira, Heaven’s Purge (2010), 164-165.

[7] Ibid., 297.

[8] Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation (1949), 53.