Certainty in Roman Catholicism
Christians who live on without a care, forcefully repressing any thoughts about death and eternity. Nor are we thinking of those modernistic movements that have sprung up within historical
Christianity which reject all special revelation and thereby rob faith of its original meaning and its central place in the life of the believer.
In these movements one can no longer speak of the certainty of truth and, thus, not of the certainty of salvation either. These people may surmise, guess, think, even hope that all will go well with them in this life and the next, and they may dare to die in that hope. They may even be able to muster an equanimity that does not fail them even in the hour of death. But the clear consciousness that they are the Lord's both in life and in death; the unshakable conviction that, because they love God and have been called according to His will, all things will work together for their good; the steadfast assurance of the hope of eternal life; rejoicing in persecution and in the face of death— these you will not find among them. Their songs are filled with doubt, melancholy and hope, but are devoid of bold, enthusiastic faith.
We must admit, however, that even those who genuinely accept God's special revelation do not always possess certainty of faith.
Often we find doubt instead of faith, care instead of steadfast trust, complaints instead of enthusiasm and praise. Those who are assured of their share in Christ and who rejoice in the hope of the glory of the children of God are few indeed.
Certainty in Roman Catholicism The Roman Catholic Church, following St. Augustine (354-430), even denies the possibility that a Christian can be sure of his eternal salvation apart from a few exceptions and then only by a special revelation from God. The certainty attainable by keeping the decrees of the church is, and remains, nothing more than an opinion, a
surmise, an opinioconjecturalis. No matter how much it may seem so, this certainty can never become an unshakable conviction, a complete, ineradicable certainty. There is no room for such in Rome's system, for it does not see salvation as assured in Christ and sealed in the heart of the believer by the testimony of the Holy Spirit.
Salvation depends on good works and as such is always only conditional. The Roman Catholic Church never allows the Christian to become independent and to stand on his own feet. It never sets him loose but always retains a hold on him, even years after his death in purgatory. The church alone can open and close the gates to heaven.
In Catholicism, therefore, the Christian faith does not turn on the question: How do I know that I truly believe and how can I be sure of my salvation? It concentrates on a much different question, namely:
How do I keep the decrees of the church and how, according to its judgment and pronouncement, do I earn eternal life? As long as the layman does what the church says, he need not worry; the church takes care of the rest. But in his attempt to win eternal life by good works the Catholic Christian can take one of two directions. He can make it very easy on himself and, if not in theory yet in practice, he can ask himself: How little can I get by with? He can also take eternal life seriously and demand from himself a strict observance of all the church demands, and even further, compel himself to do more than is required.
As a result, in Catholicism there are always two kinds of Christians: those who occasionally go to confession and mass, observe the required fasts and for the rest live quite a superficial, carefree life, trusting in the church for their salvation; and those who are dissatisfied with such externalities and attempt to live a purely religious life through mysticism and asceticism, in separation from the world and denial of the flesh, thus to come before the face of God.
Far be it from us to immediately denounce the latter with the protestant judgment that since such piety issues from a false