Ask Tony: Does God Forgive Deathbed Converts?

Does God forgive deathbed converts? Of course. This shouldn’t even be a head-scratcher. However, some people don’t take kindly to the notion that God might allow Johnny-come-latelies into the kingdom. Grumbled @barth_bro on Twitter, “I just worked my butt off to walk in righteousness my entire life. If Jesus forgives deathbed converts, I’m going to be livid.” Fr. Matthew Schneider quipped that he saw it right after tweeting, “Tell us you’re a Pelagian without telling us you’re a Pelagian.” My question was, “Ever heard of a guy named Dismas?”

Dismas, of course, is the name tradition has assigned to the Penitent Thief (Luke 23:39-43), the first of the deathbed converts.

The Workers in the Vineyard and the Prodigal Son

That God would forgive last-minute converts is prefigured in the Workers in the Vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16). Those who had worked the whole day complained that the owner gave the same wage to those who had only worked one hour. The owner’s response: “Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? … Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?” The all-day workers weren’t entitled to limit the owner’s magnanimity.

The workers’ complaint echoes that of the elder brother in the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32): “For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” The father’s answer is gentler, reminding him that “everything that is mine is yours.” Had the elder son ever asked his father for anything?

Jesus’ earthly mission was not to confirm the righteous in their superiority but rather to retrieve the lost sheep (Matthew 18:12-14; cf. Luke 15:3-7). “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick,” he told his doubters. “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners” (Mark 2:17; cf. Matthew 9:12-13, Luke 5:31-32). The people he reached out to were those who recognized their need for God but felt cut off from Him because of their sins. Christ taught that God cherishes the repentant sinner no less than He does lifelong righteousness.

Performance Piety and Restorative Justice

Patting yourself on the back for being righteous has always struck me as silly. It’s like expecting praise for showing up at work wearing clothes. (“We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!” [Luke 17:7-10]). Moreover, such braggadocio reduces righteousness to the “performance piety” against which Jesus preached in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6:1-18). It’s the Pharisee boasting to God that he isn’t like the tax collector (Luke 18:10-14).  Without humility, there’s little if anything to distinguish between true righteousness and self-righteous Pride.

Our tweeter’s attitude toward deathbed converts is understandable. Like the all-day workers or the elder brother, it strikes us unfair that those who jump in at the last moment should reap the same reward as those who have been laboring for it their whole lives. However, strictly speaking, Heaven isn’t a reward God owes to us for racking up so many earthly brownie points. Thinking of it in such a way shows that our minds are still too egocentric, that we’re seeking not communion with God but rather a validation of our self-images. We’re not thinking the way God thinks.

We take it as an undeniable premise that God is just. However, we tend to think of justice primarily as retributive, that is, punishment for the wicked. It doesn’t often occur to us that justice can be restorative, returning matters to their proper state. In our case, that state is original justice, the relationship we believe existed between God and Man before the Fall. We ought to desire this relationship, not mere election into a divine Top Achievers Club. Remember, “the last shall be first, and the first shall be last” (Matthew 19:30, 20:16; cf. Mark 10:31).

When Does the Last Minute Come?

But doesn’t forgiveness of deathbed converts mean that we can go on sinning our whole lives and get into Heaven at the last minute? Yes, it does … if you know exactly when that last minute will strike. But Death doesn’t come on a schedule, nor are we always fully aware when the Grim Reaper comes for us. Some people die suddenly, even dramatically, while some slip into eternity gradually but with diminished capacity to realize it. A few people I’ve known weren’t even close to average life expectancy when they died. One was abducted, abused, and murdered.

All our tomorrows are contingent and preemptible. Whether you’re a child or a centenarian, this very night, your soul may be demanded of you. And all the good intentions, all the reluctant promises you made to “get right with God someday”—what good will they do you then? (cf. Luke 12:16-21) The point of the Workers in the Vineyard parable is not so much that “it’s never too late” but instead that “it’s better late than never.” But it would be better to say that it’s never too early. Death comes unexpectedly for young and old alike.

Naturally, the Catholic Church urges early and frequent conversion of the soul. At the same time, the gospel doesn’t stress righteousness as much as it stresses love, especially love expressed in mercy and forgiveness. Without love, righteousness is sterile (cf. 1 Corinthians 13:1-3). Short of death itself, the Church has never laid down a definitive age or time beyond which she can say, “No, you’ve waited too long! No salvation for you!” It may even be possible to repent, convert, and be forgiven when brought before Christ’s judgment seat (that’s a pious hope, not an infallible dogma).

Conclusion: Deathbed Converts Are Saved, Too

I find it puzzling that so many of us know the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector and yet fail to get the point, let alone incorporate it into our spiritual lives: You don’t achieve sainthood by looking down on sinners. The Pharisee is as dependent on God’s mercy as is the tax collector, yet his Pride convinces him that he doesn’t need it. Even St. Paul, chosen by Christ to be an apostle, worried that he could lose the “imperishable crown” (1 Corinthians 9:24-27). The Lord is our judge, so we can’t acquit ourselves (1 Corinthians 4:4).

Nothing in the gospel message entitles us to judge deathbed converts excluded from salvation. If we truly live the gospel message, we should mourn those who refused to repent and embrace Christ even to the very end of their lives. Hey, if you don’t like the scoundrels and riff-raff God allows into the kingdom, you’re free to not go to the party yourself (cf. Matthew 22:1-14; Luke 14:15-24). But your righteousness doesn’t give you veto power over His guest list. Think about it this way: If God invites such people to His banquet, what does that say about you?