CL,
When I consider the matter, it comes down to the principle of a story from the Desert Fathers, attributed as having happened to St. Anthony, which has come down to us in two different versions–one involving a gardener hired by the monastery (or maybe visiting on a pilgrimage to donate some food) and the other involving a goldsmith in Alexandria. I’ll tell the latter version as I’m more familiar with it.
In the early days of the monastic movement, Anthony was already the most renowned of monks: revered for his piety, for his dedication to prayer and to studying the scriptures, for his championing of orthodoxy, for his austere lifestyle and his fasting, and for his miracles–people would come to him from all around the region to petition him for healing and for other saving miracles, and God would grant his prayers for their sakes.
But Anthony still felt something was missing from his life; so he sought to refine himself further in righteousness. Alerting his brothers so they wouldn’t be worried, he took himself away to a small cave where he fasted without food and water for three days, praying that God would reveal to him how to be more righteous.
After three days and three nights of intense praying, Anthony begged God: “I know I am already righteous by the standards of the world, but I still hunger and thirst for righteousness. You promised that those who did this would be filled!–and so would be truly pure of heart! I thank You that I am already more righteous than other men, unlike those who live in the world outside our monastery, but what good thing am I missing?!”
Suddenly the Holy Spirit filled the room with fire, flattening Anthony to the ground, and the Spirit declared: “YOU ARE NOT EVEN AS RIGHTEOUS YET AS A GOLDSMITH IN ALEXANDRIA!”
Then the Spirit departed–boom, He was gone.
Anthony lay on the ground stunned at this answer to his prayer! Then quivering, after an hour to recover, he crawled from the cave and back to the monastery, where the monks found him and cared for him. After the sabbath and the holy communion, he had recovered enough to think about what had happened: doubtless this was some divine riddle! For another three days and nights he pondered its meaning; then, after discarding possible explanations, he decided it must mean he should travel to Alexandria and hunt for goldsmiths until he found the one who would be the answer to the riddle.
So he prepared, and after the next sabbath he set out for the great city, the seat of commerce and learning in the Empire, second only in size to Rome.
Arriving after a long walk, he first found the local catechetical school (as Alexandria’s was famous the world over), asking if they had a goldsmith in their employ. They did not. Then he visited the bishop and his congregation. They also did not. He visited the six next largest churches in the city, figuring only the wealthiest churches might have a goldsmith in their employ; they did not. But the priest of the seventh church suggested maybe he should stop looking in churches and go look for the goldsmiths themselves!
“But that means I shall have to go among the people of the city!” shivered Anthony. Still, his current plan wasn’t working, so he asked where the goldsmiths were. The priest said there were currently seven goldsmiths operating in the city, and gave Anthony an idea where to find them.
With trepidation Anthony went forth, trying hard not to look around as much as possible lest he be tempted to sin by the lusts of the city. He still had to ask for directions every once in a while, feeling contaminated by the unbelief and unholiness of the people, most of whom were still pagan or half-pagan, but he figured he could do penance once he returned safely to the monastery.
The first goldsmith he found was entirely pagan; Anthony didn’t bother even talking to him, figuring he had to be more righteous than this man at least!
The second goldsmith he found was also pagan, although of the philosophical sort, an admirer of Celsus and therefore theistic but also strongly anti-Christian. By rapid mutual consent they parted ways.
The third goldsmith was an agnostic. Anthony saw this as an opportunity to evangelize him, which the goldsmith politely listened to, but did not commit. Anthony didn’t ask him much in return, figuring he was surely more righteous than this ignorant and willfully obstinate man.
The fourth goldsmith was Jewish, but only in a superficial way; he lived more like a pagan. Anthony had no business with him and passed on.
The fifth goldsmith was also Jewish, and was the wealthiest of them all. He was a pious man who carefully kept the Law and revered God, but of course did not accept Jesus as the Messiah, much less as God Incarnate. Anthony had to admit he admired and respected this man who was at least religiously serious in worshiping God Most High, and whose discipline rivaled Anthony’s own; but after all this man was not a Christian, so Anthony still felt safe in estimating himself more righteous than he.
The sixth was Christian but nominally so; he treated the faith more like a society for doing good in the city, as he might have any pagan social guild. Clearly he was no one Anthony could learn from, and the monk departed in disgust.
By the time he found the seventh, who was evidently the poorest of the seven main goldsmithers of the city–he even answered his own door and kept shop behind the front table!–Anthony was in a poor mood. He stomped into the room and out of the babble of the sins of the city, and plopped himself in a chair, and glared at the man.
This goldsmith had nearly died of fright when he saw the desert monk, so Anthony knew he had at least found a pious Christian.
“Do you know who I am?” snapped the monk.
“Yes, yes, you are one of the desert monks! I, uh, I welcome you to my store, although I cannot imagine–”
“I am no nameless monk. I am Anthony.”
“Agh! I meant no disrespect! I am sure I am unworthy to even be untying your sandals, but may I offer you water for your feet? And wine to drink?”
“I don’t drink wine. Water will do.” The goldsmith untied his shoes and gave him a pan of water for his feet, cleaning and wiping them off himself, after pouring a cup of water for the monk to drink.
“How else may I help you?” inquired the goldsmith. “It seems unlikely you are here to commission–”
“I am here because I have heard it said that a goldsmith in Alexandria is more righteous than I am!”
This set the goldsmith into such a frenzy denying he had ever dared to spread around any such notion, that the monk had pity on him: “I see, I see, I did not mean I had heard that you were spreading such rumors around. Nevertheless, a reliable source has told me I am not even as righteous as a goldsmith in Alexandria, so I have come here to investigate the matter. You are by far the finest of the seven in the city, so by deduction it must be you. Fear not,” he added over the goldsmith’s ardent denials. “I only want to ask you some questions.”
The goldsmith wasn’t very comforted by that either!–but he did his best to answer.
After an hour of enquiry, however, the monk’s temper was rising again; not due to any arrogance or fault in the goldsmith, but because he was so obviously average as a Christian. He read the scriptures only once a week; was muddled at best in his understanding and profession of the orthodox faith; only fasted at prescribed church times, and never in any specially austere way; certainly never did any miracles; and although he gave to the poor with some regularity, still he was also clearly a wealthy man by normal standards.
“Tell me about your prayer life then!” Anthony demanded, wondering if perhaps he had been tricked by some Satanic deception in the cave. Before the goldsmith even answered, Anthony could see from his penitent demeanor that this might be the worst category yet!
“I confess, Abba, I only pray twice a day. I know I ought to pray more often but–”
“Well, how long then? How many hours?”
“Hours!? No, no, five minutes at most, Abba!”
This was ridiculous. Anthony stood up, intending to ask the man directions back to the catechetical school for the night (as that was the closest thing to a monastery in the city)… but he could not bring himself to think he had fasted and prayed so poorly as to have been victim of a Satanic trick. As an act of faithfulness to God, then, he pressed on:
“How then do you pray? What form do you use?”
“Form? Oh. I… I don’t know…”
“Describe it to me, perhaps I will recognize it. Or perhaps,” he mused, “you have been inspired with a new form, and I have been sent to learn it.”
“I cannot believe it is anything special, Abba! I pray for my family and for my friends; surely that is nothing special.”
“There must be something else!” thundered Anthony, slamming the butt of his walking staff on the floor.
“I… I do… well, there is something else, Abba. But I am ashamed to say so.”
“TELL ME!” roared the monk.
The goldsmith gave a quavering sigh, and hung his head, and tears fell from his eyes, and he fell to his knees, unable even to look up at the monk, and said:
“Every morning and every night… the first thing every morning and the last thing every night… oh, Abba, it is not even a prayer…”
“You say it happens regularly, though? Perhaps it is inspiration! Speak up man, this may be why I am here!”
The goldsmith inhaled and answered: “…I think of all the people in the city… and I marvel at how great and good God is, and how easily He will be able to save them all… whereas for me… I am such a sinner even God Himself may have trouble saving me.”
Anthony stood there stunned. “What?” he eventually asked. The man tried to answer again, but could only shake his head.
At that moment, the wind blew open the door to the front room of the goldsmith. Anthony winced, hearing the rabble outside in the early evening, and pointed to the door. “You hear that noise?!–you think God will have no trouble saving that mess of filth and paganism and degradation and lust outside!?”
The goldsmith could only nod and mutter, “God is so great and so good, I have no doubt at all–for them. But as for me… how evil I am… I do not doubt God’s victory, but how much He must strive to save me, the chief of sinners…”
Then Anthony threw aside his staff, and threw himself face down on the ground in front of the goldsmith, and cried out, “It is true! It is true! I AM NOT EVEN AS RIGHTEOUS YET AS THIS GOLDSMITH!”
So, Anthony left the stunned man, declaring himself his disciple–but only left long enough to find a mudpit, so that he could bring back mud with his own hands to build a cell on the outside wall of the goldsmith’s shop–not even considering himself worthy to build the cell on the wall of the goldsmith’s home!
Thus Anthony stayed one year, watching the frightened goldsmith, begging every day to be taught by the goldsmith–who had no idea what to do about this! But people soon learned the great Anthony was there, and eventually the monk was busy with healing and discernment and acting as arbitrator in disputes and praying for people and all the other things monks were supposed to do.
Yet he always made sure to tell them he was there as the disciple of the goldsmith, so he could learn to be as righteous as the goldsmith was.
When the year was done, Anthony found that he had learned to see the city as the goldsmith saw it; and the goldsmith was now the wealthiest man in the city thanks to the business brought by the monk, although he routinely gave it away to the poor and even sent customers over to his rivals in order to share the business.
So Anthony blessed the man, and returned to the monastery, and in later years he came to be regarded as the greatest of the desert fathers, even to subsequent generations.
But when visiting monks would ask him how to be righteous, he would tell them he was the disciple of a goldsmith in Alexandria, whose sandals he was unfit to untie. 
She usually says something I can give a thumbs up to. 
I shouldn’t be sooo lazy. It’s so late, however. When I read the bible it does talk like there’ll be those that avoid hell and those that won’t. And yet we all are salted with fire so I can see where Pilgrim is coming from wanting to know what exactly many of us think happens. I don’t feel comfortable saying what exactly will happen, but I do notice Jesus’ constant emphasis on whether we’ve loved.
, thanks Pilgrim (and rline for the clarifications) for this important thread.