catholic church and indulgences

Ever sat in a pub, pint half-finished, and heard someone mutter, “Indulgences? Right—pay yer way into heaven, innit?” followed by a knowing nod and a crunch of crisps? Ah, bless. That’s like sayin’ the Tube runs on prayers and badger oil—*vaguely* related, wholly inaccurate, and deeply *amusing* to historians. The truth? The catholic church and indulgences saga is less *transactional* and more *theological Tetris*—a centuries-long attempt to square divine mercy with human frailty, Purgatory’s queue times, and, yes, *occasionally*, a bloke floggin’ parchment like it’s discount cinema tickets. But strip away the Reformation propaganda (and Luther’s *very* loud pamphlets), and what’s left? A doctrine rooted not in greed—but in *communal solidarity*, penance, and the belief that grace *flows*, like Thames at high tide, through the Body of Christ. Mind you, some bishops *did* push it. Hard. And that’s where things got… *messy*. Still—before we judge the whole lot, let’s crack open the archives, dust off the Latin, and ask: what *were* indulgences *really*? Spoiler: they weren’t get-out-of-hell-free cards. They were *receipts*—for prayer, fasting, almsgiving… and yes, sometimes, a *very* enthusiastic preacher with a collection plate.

Think of sin like spilling red wine on a white carpet: confession cleans the stain. Indulgence deals with the *smell*—and the lingering guilt.

Right—let’s get technical (but not *too* technical—we’ve got pints to finish). In Catholic theology, sin has *two* consequences: 1. **Eternal punishment**—separation from God (forgiven in sacramental confession). 2. **Temporal punishment**—the *disorder* left behind: habits, wounded relationships, spiritual hangovers. This “temporal debt” could be purified *in this life* through penance—or *after death*, in Purgatory. An indulgence? It remits *only* the temporal part—not the sin itself. And crucially, it draws on the *Treasury of Merit*: Christ’s infinite grace, plus the saints’ surplus good deeds (yes, really—like spiritual overdraft protection). So no, you couldn’t “buy” forgiveness for *planning* a sin. You *could*, however, reduce time in Purgatory *after* confession—by sayin’ 50 Ave Marias, feedin’ seven poor families, or walkin’ barefoot to Canterbury. That’s the nuance lost in the catholic church and indulgences caricature: it wasn’t *commerce*. It was *cooperation*—with God, with the Church, with the communion of saints. Even if some salesmen forgot to mention the *prayer* bit.

He didn’t sell indulgences—he *weaponised* them for the Second Crusade (with mixed results, tbh)

1146. The County of Edessa’s just fallen to Zengi. Pope Eugene III’s panickin’. Enter Bernard—abbot, mystic, and the era’s most *persuasive* bloke (sermons so fiery, crowds reportedly fainted). He tours France and Germany, preachin’: *“Join the Crusade—and receive a *plenary indulgence*!”* Full remission of temporal punishment. No questions. No fees. Just *go*. Over 100,000 signed up—including kings. Problem? The Crusade *failed*. Spectacularly. But the precedent stuck: indulgences as *mobilisation tools*. And here’s the kicker—Bernard *hated* monetary transactions. His letters warn bishops: *“If you set a price, you sell grace—and that’s simony.”* So the early link between catholic church and indulgences wasn’t about cash—it was about *calling*. A holy draft notice, if you will. (Though by the 1400s? The recruiters got *creative* with commission structures.)

1300: Boniface VIII declares the first Holy Year. Result? 200,000 pilgrims in Rome. Streets clogged. Hostels full. And *zero* mention of money… officially.

Pope Boniface VIII—more Machiavelli than monk—hit on a *genius* idea: every 100 years (later 50, then 25), open the *Porta Santa*, and offer a *plenary indulgence* to anyone who: - Confessed - Received Communion - Visited St. Peter’s *and* St. Paul’s Basilicas - Prayed for the Pope’s intentions Simple. Devout. *Crowd-pullin’*. In 1300, pilgrims flooded Rome—so many, the Borgo district installed *one-way* streets (still used today!). No *official* fee—but innkeepers, relic-sellers, and “licensed guides” (ahem) made *fortunes*. The Church got devotion, donations, and data on *mass* piety. And the faithful? A clean spiritual slate—and sore feet. This wasn’t corruption—it was *logistics*. Though when Clement VI halved the interval to 50 years in 1350? Yeah, the optics got *dodgy*. Still, the catholic church and indulgences link here was *pastoral*: a reset button for a weary world post-Black Death.

“As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from Purgatory springs!” …Except he probably never said it. (But someone *definitely* sold the merch.)

Enter Tetzel—Dominican friar, indulgence preacher for Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz, tasked with fundin’ St. Peter’s Basilica *and* payin’ off Albrecht’s debts to the Fuggers (yes, *the* bankers). His pitch? *Aggressive*. Brochures claimed indulgences worked *even for the dead*—and yes, money changed hands (though technically, it was a “donation” tied to the *act* of contrition). Did he *chant* that jingle? Unlikely—it first appears in *Luther’s* polemics, years later. But the *perception*? Solid gold. And perception, in the catholic church and indulgences crisis, *was* the reality. One disgruntled monk in Wittenberg heard the rumours, checked Canon Law, and—*boom*—95 Theses nailed to a church door. Not because indulgences were *inherently* wrong—but because their *marketing* had jumped the shark. Tetzel wasn’t evil. He was *over-enthusiastic*. And history loves a cautionary tale.

1563: After 18 years of arguing, the Church finally bans *all* financial transactions tied to indulgences

Post-Reformation, the Catholic Church didn’t *abolish* indulgences—it *reformed* them. At Trent, bishops admitted: *“Abuses crept in, chiefly through the *avarice* and *irreverence* of preachers.”* So they laid down the law: - No fees, ever. - Preachers must be licensed *and* supervised. - Indulgences require *sincere repentance*—no “autopilot” piety. The *Index of Forbidden Books* even banned certain indulgence manuals. It was a *mea culpa* wrapped in canon law: *“We got carried away. Let’s go back to basics.”* And basics meant *works of mercy*—visiting the sick, feeding the hungry—not coin clinks. This wasn’t backpedallin’. It was *course correction*. And it’s why the modern catholic church and indulgences practice is so… *quiet*. You won’t see billboards. But you *will* find it in the *Enchiridion Indulgentiarum*—a slim booklet, updated in 2004, listing acts like *“one hour of Eucharistic adoration”* or *“reciting the Rosary in a group”* for partial indulgences. No drama. Just devotion.

A plenary indulgence wipes the *entire* temporal slate—*if* you’re in a state of grace, confess within 20 days, *and* pray for the Pope. (Yes, *and*.)

Let’s bust the biggest myth: indulgences aren’t *percentages*. A **partial indulgence** remits *some* temporal punishment—say, for reciting a *Memorare* with devotion. A **plenary indulgence** remits *all*—but only if you meet *four* conditions: 1. Complete detachment from *all* sin (even venial—tough, we know). 2. Sacramental confession (within ~20 days). 3. Holy Communion. 4. Prayers for the Pope’s intentions (usually an Our Father + Hail Mary). Miss one? It defaults to *partial*. So no—you can’t “top up” with extra quid in the plate. It’s *interior disposition*, not *exterior deposit*. That’s the heart of catholic church and indulgences today: not a *deal*, but a *discipline*—a way to align your will with God’s. Also, fun fact: you can *apply* a plenary indulgence to *a soul in Purgatory*. That’s right—spiritual gift-wrappin’, centuries before Amazon Prime.

“Indulgences are not a permission to sin, nor a pardon of future sin; *they presuppose true repentance*.” — *Catechism of the Catholic Church*, para. 1471 (1992), finally sayin’ it plainly.

Rumour spread: “Pope says send an *email* to get plenary indulgence!” Vatican sighs, issues clarification *twice*.

Y2K. The world’s bracin’ for chaos. John Paul II declares a *Great Jubilee*—and quietly, in *Incarnationis Mysterium*, lists new ways to gain indulgences: pilgrimages, works of charity… and *“first Mass on television or radio”*. Cue tabloids: *“POPE OFFERS SALVATION VIA EMAIL!”* (He didn’t.) Vatican Radio had to release a statement: *“No, emailing the Pope does *not* grant indulgence. Please stop.”* It was peak pre-social-media misinformation—and a reminder: the catholic church and indulgences discourse is *always* vulnerable to soundbite distortion. Still, the Jubilee saw 25 million pilgrims in Rome. So… mission accomplished? Just don’t mention the email thing. Ever.

2015–16: During the *Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy*, he grants indulgences to *anyone* who visits a *carcere* (prison) or *ospedale* (hospital)—no paperwork needed.

Francis—Jesuit, pastor, man who smells of sheep—reframed indulgences as *acts of mercy*, not *spiritual accountancy*. For the 2015–16 Jubilee, he expanded the list: - Visiting the elderly or sick - Feeding the hungry - Welcoming migrants All could gain a plenary indulgence—*if* done with faith and repentance. No forms. No coins. Just *love in action*. And for prisoners? He let *jail chaplains* grant absolution for *reserved sins* (like abortion)—a massive pastoral shift. This wasn’t innovation. It was *retrieval*: indulgences as participation in Christ’s healing mission. In Francis’s hands, the catholic church and indulgences link became *incarnational*—less about *time off* Purgatory, more about *time spent* with the marginalised. And honestly? That’s the kind of theology that doesn’t need a sales pitch.

Yes—but it’s less *medieval marketplace*, more *monastic timetable*. And no, you can’t Venmo the Vatican.

Blunt answer: **yes**, the Catholic Church *still* offers indulgences—but you’d need a *theology degree* and a magnifying glass to spot ‘em in daily life. They’re in the *missal*, the *Catechism*, and that slim *Enchiridion*—not on billboards. Most Catholics *never* seek one. And that’s fine. The Church knows: after 500 years of bad PR, *silence* is wisdom. But for the curious? A plenary indulgence’s still available on: - All Souls’ Day (visiting a cemetery) - Your baptismal anniversary - Receiving papal blessing *urbi et orbi* All require confession, Communion, and *sincere detachment from sin*—the hardest bit, honestly. So while the catholic church and indulgences story *feels* medieval, it’s very much alive—just humbler, holier, and *heavily footnoted*. Fancy diggin’ deeper? Wander over to The Great War Archive, browse the History vaults, or lose yourself in Indulgence: Roman Catholic Historical Perspective & Old Faith. Go on—it’s more gripping than *most* boxsets. (And cheaper than a pilgrimage.)

References

• https://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/__P4G.HTM
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/indulgence-Christianity
• https://www.newadvent.org/cathen/07783a.htm
• https://www.history.com/topics/reformation/indulgence