PROTESTANTS AT PLAY IN PURGATORY CHASM
Sutton, MA 

When I was a kid we frequently went to Purgatory. No lie. You can look it up. Purgatory Chasm is a unique park in a town called Sutton in the

south-eastern part of central Massachusetts. Roughly 14,000 years ago the earth split open here leaving a quarter-mile long rift with towering 70-foot high granite walls. A great many years later the state parks department put in a few picnic tables, some swings and see-saws and a rambling wooden walkway for tourists.

Even after my family moved to New Hampshire we would meet up with my cousins there and spend the day climbing among the rock formations. When the teacher asked where we had gone over the summer vacation I would say "Purgatory". You could always tell which kids in the class were Catholics by the shock and awe on their faces.

I only bring this up because I heard on the news that the Pope recently closed Limbo. I mentioned jokingly to my wife that I hoped that he didn’t also close Purgatory, because it was one of my favorite playgrounds. She gave me the usual Catholic jaw-drop, then tried to explain the difference. We are both English majors, but she has the PhD that includes at least 12-yearrs of Catholic schooling. I was brought up Presbyterian and my only knowledge of the levels of Hell comes from reading Dante’s Inferno.

Purgatory, she explained, Is still open for business, literally and spiritually. It’s like a giant processing plant for sinners waiting to get into Heaven. It’s hot and crowded and only good Catholics need apply.

"So it’s a lot like Florida?" I said, struggling for a metaphor. We’re heading to Florida for our Christmas holiday and it’s not my favorite place.

"No," my wife corrected. "Purgatory is for dead people. Florida is more like the place where the living wait to get into Purgatory."

"So what is Limbo?" I asked. For Protestants of my era, Limbo was a dance, like the Turkey Trot or the Monster Mash. As a writer, I always use the lower-case noun "limbo" to designate a hellishly dull period of waiting – like the dry spell between dates in your 20s or sitting in the airport on the way to Florida.

"Limbo is where the unbaptized go," my wife said. "That’s where Socrates and Plato and all the good people who lived before Jesus are now. They will be sitting around there doing nothing until the Second Coming."

I was beginning to see the light. Limbo is more like slacking off in college forever. It’s not unpleasant there, but you can never quite finish that term paper you’re working on. By the time you graduate, it’s Armageddon.

Purgatory, on the other hand, is like a gulag for members only. You have to know somebody to get in, but the food sucks. You still have to work your way to Heaven and you get plagued by imps and devils.

Which reminds me why Purgatory Chasm stopped being my favorite place by the time I was around 12. I remember being on the see-saw with my cousin. He was the kind of kid who thought it was funny to put a lit cherry bomb in the mouth of a live toad. Anyway, my cousin was on the down-end of the see-saw and I was on the up-end when he suddenly jumped off and ran away. I hit the pavement with a bone-jarring crash that I can feel to this day. He thought that was hilarious. Still does. My cousin went on to become a Pinkerton detective. He has since become a male nurse, converted from a Protestant to Catholicism and moved to Florida. No lie. You can ask my Aunt.

What goes around comes around. I haven’t been back to Purgatory Chasm since the 1960’s, but I’m thinking of a return visit. I want to see if the 70-foot walls are as tall as they used to be. For Protestants, it’s still a simple day trip. But for my poor Catholic cousin, if there really is a higher justice, may come a reckoning. He might find himself trapped on the see-saw in Purgatory until Hell freezes over.

For more on Purgatory Chasm go to www.mass.gov and type "Purgatory" into the search box there. Copyright © 2006 by J. Dennis Robinson. All rights reserved