Liberty of Conscience
In Catholic, Reformed, and Contemporary Perspective
S. Joel Garver
While the notion of the "conscience" certainly played an important role in Christian moral theology prior to the later medieval period, it was St. Thomas Aquinas who developed the concept in ways that would deeply influence subsequent discussion. Discussion of the conscience and its liberty and authority in Christian decision-making has always existed in some tension with the need to give due submission of the will to the authority of the church and state, at least in certain matters, and alongside the possibility or need for dissent. These were areas that came to prominence at the time of the Protestant Reformation in the thought of such leaders as Luther and Calvin, who questioned the prevailing ecclesiastical authorities in particular matters, and have remained areas of discussion even within Catholic moral theory to this day.
In the following essay, I will consider the theory of conscience and its freedom as that was articulated in the late medieval period, particularly in Aquinas and in his wake. With this as background, I will go on to outline Reformational concerns about the conscience and how the idea of liberty of conscience continued to be developed in relation to authority by Reformation thinkers. I will conclude with a brief review of current Catholic thought regarding liberty of conscience, suggesting that some rapprochement between Reformational and Catholic perspectives may be possible.
St. Thomas Aquinas provides the most influential account of the conscience in medieval theology and while his account was built upon the work of earlier theologians - especially St. Jerome, St. Augustine, Peter Abelard, and Peter Lombard - Aquinas' contribution and synthesis were uniquely his own.1 His explication of conscience is built upon a distinction, going back to Jerome, between conscientia and synteresis. While the Latin conscientia was used by Jerome to translate the New Testament Greek term syneidesis, the term synteresis appears to be mistakenly coined by Jerome himself (in his commentary on Ezekiel) and is used by Aquinas as distinct from conscientia.
For Aquinas conscientia is an action (actus) by which knowledge is applied to a particular case (Summa Theologiae Ia, q.79, a.13, hereafter ST). As an action connected with knowledge, conscience is neither a power (potentia) nor a "habit" (habitus), but an act (actus) by which a particular power is exercised, perhaps as an expression of a habit. As an action connected with knowledge, conscience for Aquinas is an aspect of the rational aspect of soul (rather than the vegetative or sensitive aspects) and, moreover, is located among the functions of reason (ratio) within that soul (rather than among the functions of the will).
More specifically, conscience is an act of practical reason, as opposed to speculative reason, and thus has "the good" as its object in relation to particular further actions. In relation to those particular further actions, the action of conscience may be either antecedent or consequent. When conscience is an action antecedent to a further action, it determines what action should be done or ought not to be done. When conscience is an action consequent to a further action, it testifies to what action has been done, judging whether it was done well or badly. In Aquinas' overall analysis, his emphasis appears to be upon the antecedent action of conscientia, and thus we must consider how that action arises, its relation to any underlying habits and powers (especially synteresis), and its basic structure.
Insofar as Aquinas sees conscience as an action which, in turn, stems from a habit, he is willing also to call that ultimately underlying habit "conscientia" (ST Ia, q.79, a.13). Nevertheless, he sees this habit as more properly termed "synteresis", based upon the terminology of Jerome. For Aquinas the habit of synteresis is a natural (naturaliter) habit of the reason that "contains the precepts of the natural law which are the first principles of human action" (ST Ia IIae, q.94, a.1 and 2). As a natural habit, synteresis is an inherent disposition of human nature (ST Ia, q.79, a.12), is not acquired through repeated action, cannot be utterly extinguished, even in the damned (De veritate q.16, a.3), and cannot possibly be in error (ST Ia, q.79, a.13).
With Aquinas' distinction between conscientia and synteresis drawn in broad strokes, we can go on to examine their interrelations. These two items are often conflated in modern notions of conscience in which the particular actions of conscience in applying knowledge (directing, forbidding, accusing, rebuking, tormenting, etc.) are often identified as more or less direct manifestations of some basic inclination or moral sensitivity. While Aquinas would certainly see such actions as manifestations of conscience, he would directly identify these actions with conscientia and not with some more basic inclination or sensitivity (which would more closely approach his notion of synteresis). For Aquinas, conscientia simply is, for example, the act of commanding a particular path or rebuking a particular choice. Moreover, such acts can be in error, while synteresis cannot.
So then, we need to examine how human action emerges out of synteresis, acts as conscientia, and functions antecedently to any further action. For Aquinas, the practical intellect operates by means of syllogistic reasoning, the conclusion of which is an act of judgment: conscience. In such practical syllogisms, the major premise is a general moral principle, while the minor premise involves knowledge of particular circumstances and a proposed action. Thus, for example, if I know that [1] one ought to relieve the plight of the poor as one is able (major premise), and that [2] this man is poor and could well be helped by my sharing this bread with him (minor premise), then the conscience is the conclusion that [3] I ought to share my bread with this man. In terms of particular further actions, the actual action of sharing the bread will follow upon my conclusion by an act of the will which accepts or rejects the judgment of practical reason, thereby determining the morality of the action. In terms of the nautral habit of synteresis, it must be associated with the major premise of the practical syllogism.2
There is, however, some ambiguity regarding what Aquinas saw as the precise relationship between synteresis and the general moral principle embodied in the major premise leading to the action of conscience. It seems that we cannot make a strict identity between the content of synteresis and such premises since, according to Aquinas, synteresis contains the "first principles" of human action, principles which apparently lack the specificity and concreteness to function directly as major premises of practical syllogisms. This is clear from Aquinas' comments regarding natural law. He notes that it is quite possible that specific precepts of the natural law (e.g., theft is wrong) may sometimes not be known (ST Ia IIae, q. 94). If so, however, these precepts cannot furnish the content of synteresis which, Aquinas maintains, can neither be extinguished nor be in error. Thus synteresis must consist of a higher level of generality than the major premises employed in the functioning of conscientia in the application of practical reason. Synteresis, nevertheless, provides the foundation for those premises, supplying the generalized content from which the premises, in turn, may be derived in their particularity.
Having outlined the distinctions and interrelations Aquinas draws between synteresis and conscientia, we can consider his treatment of the authority and liberty of conscience. He treats the question of the authority of conscience in the context of two articles concerning cases in which the conscience is in error. The first article asks whether or not an erring conscience binds the will to obey it (ST Ia IIae, q.19, a.5). Aquinas replies that "absolutely speaking, every will that is at variance with reason [i.e., the dictates of conscience], whether that reason is right or erring, is always evil" (ST Ia IIae, q.19, a.5). Thus it is always wrong to act against the conscience and so even the erring conscience binds.
The second article asks whether or not an erring conscience excuses the one who obeys it (ST Ia IIae, q.19, a.6). Aquinas' reply turns upon the distinction between invicible ignorance (which is sufficient to excuse error by rendering it involuntary) and vincible or voluntary ignorance (which is insufficient to excuse error since it could have been avoided). Obedience to an erring conscience is excused only in a case of invincible ignorance. Now, in terms of practical reason, ignorance may involve either [a] ignorance of moral principles (the major premise), [b] ignorance of circumstances of a particular case at a particular time (the minor premise), or [c] ignorance due to faulty reasoning that draws a wrong conclusion from correct premises (ST Ia IIae, q.76, a.1 and q.77, a.2). For Aquinas, invincible ignorance is only possible in regard to [b], the factual circumstances of a case, and only when the particular case of ignorance involved no epistemic negligence on the part of the subject.
Aquinas' position might initially appear to be contradictory, maintaining both that the conscience always binds and that, in most instances, ignorance is no excuse. Nevertheless, this contradiction is only apparent since one is obligated both to obey one's conscience and to rightly form one's acts of conscience. Even if a person has fulfilled the obligation to follow the conclusions of conscience, that person may be acting immorally if she has been somehow negligent in bringing her conscience to the conclusion in question. Thus it does not follow from the fact that it is always wrong to violate the conscience that it is always right to follow the conscience. Sometimes the only right choice is to set aside the conscience and rethink its conclusions.
In the articles we just considered, Aquinas deals only with the authority of the conscience that is in error. We must, then, turn to the general question of the authority and freedom of conscience. From what we have already seen, it is clear that right conscience is utterly binding and authoritative. Nonetheless, Aquinas' primary consideration of right conscience does not come in the context of its authority (as if some external legal power), but within the larger subject of the virtue of prudence (prudentia) and the freedom of Christian conscience.3
The virtue of prudence, like the action of conscience for Aquinas, is a function of practical reason. Like conscience, prudence involves not only knowledge of moral principles and ends, but also a proper comprehension of relevant moral circumstances and the ability to deliberate accurately in order to choose the right ends within the given situation. While prudence involves both deliberation (consilium) and sound judgment (iudicium), it is "truly concerned with its principal act, which is to command (praecipere)" (ST IIa IIae, q.48). Thus, the virtue of prudence can be interpreted as the habit of reason and will whereby antecedent conscience rightly commands certain actions.
It follows that synteresis, according to Aquinas, is also linked to prudence by providing the general principles by which prudence is able to deliberate in specific contexts and by setting the ends towards which prudence moves (ST IIa IIae, q.47, a.6). Nevertheless, Aquinas asserts that practical reason is unable to make prudential use of synteresis apart from grace through the gift of faith. Consequently, prudence (and thus right conscience) is expressed and animated by the Christian virtue of charity, enabling a kind of liberty of conscience apart from a legalistic framework. Grace, through the gifts of the Holy Spirit, empowers a person to act freely and spontaneously in regard to everything required by faith working in love, liberating the individual from any further obligation. Moreover, with right conscience it is possible, says Aquinas, to possess a degree of "probable certitude" (probabilis certitudo) regarding ethical decision-making (ST IIa IIae, q.70, a.2), inspiring a kind of humble moral confidence, built upon faith and in reliance upon the Spirit's gifts.
Having drawn the general outlines of Aquinas' account of conscience, there are several features of that account we should particularly note. First, for Aquinas conscience is not an overarching moral sensitivity or faculty of judgment, but is embodied in specific acts of moral reasoning and judgment.
Second, the functioning of conscience is largely exposited in terms of antecedent conscience, judging possible courses of action beforehand, rather than in terms of a conscience that is preoccupied with a sense of rebuke and guilt regarding actions already committed (though conscience, on Aquinas' view, does function in that consequent manner too).
Finally, for Aquinas, when the conscience does act consequently, judging moral decision-making, it does so with reference to specific choices which, if they violate moral precepts, incur objective guilt (reatus). Such guilt may well result in an act of conscience that produces a negative judgment (rebuke, remorse, torment, accusation, etc.), which is part of the punishing consequences of that particular sin. Aquinas' view of conscience, however, does not leave room for the conscience accusing and judging the person as a whole.
After expending such detail upon the views of St. Thomas Aquinas, it is a far simpler matter to sketch developments regarding the conscience within later nominalism, especially insofar as we shall proceed by way of contrast with Aquinas. While there was a variety of opinion within nominalism, the views of two prominent figures - William of Ockham and Gabriel Biel - shall suffice to fill in the background between the time of Aquinas and that of the Protestant Reformation.
In many respects, Ockham and Aquinas' views of conscience are quite similar. They both held that conscience consisted in acts of practical reason (though Ockham more sharply distinguished these from acts of the will); they both rooted moral responsibility in acts of the free will; and they both held that the conscience always binds the will to obey its judgments. Nevertheless, on the matter of synteresis Ockham and Aquinas greatly differed. Since he held to the idea of almost total freedom of will, Ockham could not admit the existence any natural habit such as synteresis, which would necessarily prove some kind of limitation upon the will. Additionally, Ockham explained the deliberation involved in conscience as one that made use of knowledge gained from experience and Scripture rather than from natural knowledge of first principles contained within synteresis.4
In the case of Gabriel Biel, one of most important nominalist theologians in the generation preceding the birth of Luther, we can cite differences and similarities with both Aquinas and Ockham. Contrary to Ockham, Biel reincorporated the notion of an innate and inextinguishable synteresis into nominalist thought, but defined it as "the inborn intellectual power to assent naturally to [universal] practical principles which are evident from their terms" (2 Sent., d.39, a.1D). This, however, is simply to identify synteresis with the practical reason and to root its inability to be extinguished in the very structure of rationality. Moreover, synteresis is no longer an inborn habit, but an innate potency or faculty of the intellect.
Conscience, for Biel, is a habit rooted in this potency of the intellect, but, unlike synteresis, one that involves specific actions by deducing particular conclusions from the synteresis within a concrete set of circumstances. And so, any immediate act of conscience is, according to Biel, an indirect act of synteresis. Nevertheless, Biel placed the divine law revealed in Scripture between synteresis and conscience as the more immediate rule of conscience since the natural moral knowledge possessed through the synteresis was only general and fragmentary.5
Despite differences in emphases, formulation, and content, it is clear that for Aquinas, Ockham, and Biel, conscience is central in moral deliberation. Moreover, within their overall theologies, they each view right conscience and its authority as connected to faith, revelation, and, therefore, human relationship with God.
It would be a mistake to see the views of Reformation theologians as radically discontinuous with their medieval predecessors. Nevertheless, thinkers such as Luther and Calvin did make original offerings in the development of theories about the conscience, offerings which have significantly contributed to how the conscience and its liberty were conceived in the modern period, including even the conceptions marked by the Second Vatican Council's teaching on religious freedom. But we are proceeding too quickly. Let's first turn to the views of Martin Luther.6
While Luther's earliest conceptions of conscience were in many respects similar to those of late medieval nominalism, he began to part ways in some significant respects. The first departure is Luther's rejection of the notion of synteresis. Without the underlying synteresis, conscience becomes more than a manifestation of a particular function of the soul, but a full-blown and self-governing faculty of the soul in distinction from others. Moreover, Luther's account of the conscientia conceives of it in less intellectualistic terms than many of his medieval predecessors, seeing it as much emotional as rational. As a function that is both emotional and rational, Luther thereby places conscience on a level within the human person that is more fundamental than the distinction between reason and will. Indeed, Luther's language often tends to identify conscientia with the biblical terminology of the heart (cor), mind (mens), spirit (spiritus), or - sometimes - soul (anima) that defines the center of human consciousness.
Correlative to this first development is Luther's shift in how he thinks of the object of the judgments of conscience. Rather than its object being primarily distinct moral acts and decisions, for Luther the conscience most fundamentally stands in judgment over the entire person. It is the conscience which communicates God's judgment of the individual as a sinner deserving of condemnation and death:
...this arises from the rejection of God, which tramples down like horses. It is indeed a terrible thing. Thus, the beginning of wisdom is fear of the Lord. For from that point His wrath is in the penitent heart; and thus He makes His judgment evident, from which men quake and cease to do evil, with a fiercely accusing conscience. (Dictata Super Psalterium on Psalm 78:11-12)This quotation aptly illustrates several of our points: the affective content of conscience; the parallel between the conscience and the "heart"; and the role of conscience in communicating God's judgment of the person as a whole.
But conscience for Luther is not merely a source of condemning judgment, which is its function with respect to the perfection of God's law. That judgment in turn drives the sinner wholly to rely upon God's justifying grace revealed in the gospel, found in Christ's righteousness, and received, according to Luther, by faith alone. Luther writes, "The law oppresses the conscience through sin, but the gospel liberates the conscience and pacifies it through faith in Christ" (Lectures on Romans 10:15). When, by faith, God's merciful judgment of justification is received, the conscience is liberated from the condemnation and terror it communicates in light of God's law. Thus, in its essence, conscience for Luther does not act antecedently to judge particular courses of action that either fulfill or violate divine law. Rather, conscience acts reflexively in consequence of God's judgments as they are revealed in law and gospel, in condemnation and justification.
We should also note that these two judgments of the conscience in relation to the whole individual are not taken by Luther to be successive stages such that the justified ever put condemnation behind. Rather, a sense of condemnation before God is the necessary condition for a faith that continually relies upon Christ and his righteousness alone for justification. Bad conscience is also itself a function of faith whereby the sinner accepts the judgment of God's law which would otherwise be rejected. Thus the simultaneity of good and bad conscience is the subjective awareness of the Christian's own experience as justified and yet a sinner (Luther's famous simul iustus et peccator).
None is this is to deny the traditional medieval function of conscience, for Luther assumes that conscience does also judge particular actions and choices, but for him that is not it's most basic function. Consequently, Luther handles questions of erring conscience and invincible ignorance differently than his predecessors. Luther writes in his Disputatio contra scholasticam theologiam,
[35] It is not true that invincible ignorance excuses everything. This is against all the scholastics.Several features of Luther's views account for this rejection of the scholastic position.
[36] For the ignorance of God, of himself, and of a good work is always invincible for the natural man.
First, apart from faith the "natural man" is incapable of judging himself rightly as a sinner under God's condemnation. Since Luther includes the judgment of the entire individual as central among the activities of conscience, conscience for Luther always acts in ignorance in the sinner without faith, and in an ignorance that is invincible since it can only be remedied by the gift of faith. Nevertheless, Luther maintains, this serves as no excuse.
Second, since it is only by a faith that seeks no righteousness and merit in itself that we are justified, the sinner apart from faith is incapable of using conscience to determine antecedently what course of action is the right one. Whatever course of action is judged as correct by conscience, it will still be deficient apart from a faith that recognizes such actions to stand under condemnation: "...everyone who lacks faith sins, even if he acts well" (Lectures on Romans 14:23). In this context, the question of whether or not an erring conscience binds is simply sidestepped.
Third, this is not to say that for Luther conscience has no role in guiding the actions of the justified sinner who receives God's merciful judgment by faith. From the standpoint of faith and justification, the sinner is freed from the terror of a conscience that condemns, especially the erroneous belief that perfect works are a necessary basis for salvation. Still, in continuity with the medieval tradition, Luther continued to maintain that it is always wrong to act against the judgments of conscience with reference to specific actions and that a Christian's conscience needs to be properly formed and instructed, even though, by faith in Christ, the conscience is free. Luther's development of these points, is to be seen especially in his confrontation with ecclesiastical authorities.
Before the church authorities both at Augsburg (where he was questioned by Cajetan), and later during the Diet at Worms, Luther appealed to his conscience (e.g., "I do not want to be compelled to affirm something contrary to my conscience...") but also evinced an openness to correction (e.g., "I am prepared to give up, change or revoke everything, if I am informed that these [Scriptural] passages are to be understood in another sense", Acta Augustana). In these statements Luther reveals a basic agreement with the scholastic view of conscience in that it is both wrong to violate one's conscience and to follow erring conscience, when it is possible to correct it. His persistence in espousing his views, then, was not born of some mere subjective certainty, but upon the authority that had long been granted to the conscience by Catholic theologians.
Luther, nevertheless, does diverge from his medieval predecessors in the place given to church authority in the formation and correction of conscience. Neither papal authority nor the teaching of councils were thought by Luther to be sufficient in themselves to correct the possibly erring conscience unless they could bring to bear convincing evidence from "the Scriptures or clear reason" (scripturae aut ratio evidens). Again, this is not mere subjectivism on the part of Luther. For one thing, he was convinced of the fundamental clarity of Scripture regarding things pertaining to the primary truths of the faith, including the way of salvation. He writes, "Holy Scripture must necessarily be clearer, simpler, and more certain than any other writing since all teachers verify their own statements through the Scriptures as clearer and more reliable, and want their own writings to be confirmed and explained by them" ("Response to Exsurge Domine").
Moreover, Luther's approach to ecclesiastical authority emerges out of an experience that might never have occurred to his medieval predecessors - Luther took his stand, not out of the vincible ignorance of an erring conscience that has not bothered with a careful investigation nor even out an invincible error stemming from a profound lack of resources to correct that error. On the contrary, Luther's position grew out of a careful and detailed examination of the Scriptures, in light of and with a due respect for tradition and official teaching, as a priest and doctor of theology empowered by the church to teach and correct consciences, and with regard to matters that had never been the focus of dogmatic definition. If indeed, as Newman will later suggest, the schola theologorum at one time served as a distinct, but interdependent teaching authority, Luther had good reason to believe his opinions were well founded since he was scarcely alone among the theologians of his day in beginning to formulate theology along what were to become Protestant lines.7
Nonetheless, Luther's stand was to have serious, though largely unintended repercussions for the life of the church: the relativization and decline of ecclesiastical authority and the growing prominence of the individual, subjective interpreter of Scripture and religious experience. Nor can these effects be entirely distanced from Luther's own theological formulations regarding justification and liberty of conscience. Since we are, according to Luther, justified by faith alone, apart from works, no precepts established by the church (e.g., foods from which to abstain, days of obligation, etc.) can serve as a basis for righteousness before God and therefore should never serve as a source of bad conscience (i.e., condemnation by God).
Thus Luther stated before the Diet at Worms, "through the laws of the pope and the doctrines of men, the consciences of the faithful have been most miserably ensnared, vexed, and torn to pieces..." While the practices involved here may be beneficial and while Lutheran churches did maintain any number of them, Luther regarded them as matters in which Christians were at liberty. The conscience that knows itself to be justified by God grace alone through faith, experiences this liberty in such a way that it will fulfill God's law with spontaneity and joy (see, e.g., "Sermon of the Threefold Good Life to Instruct the Conscience"; cf., however, Aquinas on prudentia). It would be difficult for such a doctrine, coupled with Luther's own wrangling with the church, not to have the kinds of results that have emerged.
To summarize, the central contributions of Luther's early thought regarding the conscience seem to be twofold. First, there is his expansion of the notion of conscience beyond acts of judgment regarding particular choices into a faculty by which the entire individual becomes aware of God's judgments - condemnation under the law and justification in light of the gospel. With this expanded notion of conscience, the religious significance of conscience stretches beyond ethical decision-making to the very center of religious faith itself, the individual as a whole in relation to God. As such, this concept of conscience comes to prominence in modern discussions of religious freedom.
Second, there is Luther's example of religious dissent from ecclesiastical authority on the basis of the authority of conscience as a teacher in the church and when the conscience has carefully deliberated regarding matters which have never been fully defined in a dogmatic way. To what degree such dissent is permissible and under what conditions is a matter of continued debate both for Roman Catholics (with the authority of their magisterium) and for Protestants (with their experience, especially in America, of the doctrinal chaos to which dissent can give rise).8
While the views of Luther evidence a great deal of development from their medieval foundations - as we would expect from an initiator of reform - it would be the subsequent generations of Reformational theologians who would often return to the scholastics to enhance and clarify Luther's insights as well as attempt to soften some of their less desirable consequences.
John Calvin's view of conscience appears as indebted to Aquinas as it is to Luther. With reference to Luther, Calvin largely reiterates Luther's teaching about the conscience with regard to its judgment of the entire individual, either in condemnation by the law or in justification through faith in Christ (e.g., Institutes 3.19.2-6; 4.10.3-4). As to other matters, however, there are two areas in which Calvin significantly contributes to the tradition: first, in reasserting the scholastic notion of conscience in relation to specific choices and actions and, second, in clarifying the relationship between liberty of conscience and the authority of the church.9
In terms of traditional scholastic notions of the conscience, Calvin maintains the centrality of knowledge of the principles of natural law in the function of conscience, as well as the judgment of conscience regarding specific acts, either antecedently or consequently. He writes, "For our conscience does not allow us to sleep a perpetual insensible sleep without being an inner witness and monitor of what we owe God, without holding before us the difference between good and evil, and thus accusing us when we fail in our duty" (Institutes 2.8.1; cf. 3.19.15 and Commentary on Romans 2:14-15). Accordingly, Calvin defines natural law as "that apprehension of the conscience which distinguishes sufficiently between just and unjust," which is rooted in an "innate power to judge between good and evil" (Institutes 2.2.22). While Calvin never employs the concept of synteresis explicitly, his account seems to presuppose the human person to possess something that fulfills that function. Despite these features of Calvin's account, he denies that apart from faith that conscience can truly guide right behavior since it can only be properly formed as a good conscience through faith (Institutes 3.14.18-19; 3.19.4-5). The unbelieving conscience instead only serves to accuse the self of its inadequacies and condemnation under the natural law (Institutes 3.12.4-8).
With reference to ecclesiastical (and civil) authority, Calvin zealously maintains the fundamental liberty of the Christian's conscience, but also places this in a context that emphasizes the due submission of the Christian to those authorities God has ordained. Regarding liberty of conscience, Calvin notes three aspects: freedom from the condemnation of the law; freedom to obey God with a willing heart; freedom from religious obligation with regard to things indifferent (adiaphora; cf. Institutes 3.19.2-8). It is with concern for the third aspect that the issue of external authorities is pertinent since both church and civil authorities may ask the Christian to abide by certain laws involving matters that are not clear specifications of divine or natural law. Calvin's principle here is that "our consciences may not be constrained by any necessity to observe them, but may remember that by God's beneficence their use is for edification made subject to him" (Institutes 3.19.8).
This does not give us the freedom to utterly disregard ecclesiastical authority, however, in regard to either doctrine or customs. With regard to the teaching authority of the church in defining doctrine, Calvin denies that even a general council is necessarily infallible in its teaching (Institutes 4.8.10-16). Nevertheless, the teachers God has ordained for his church, do possess a necessary ministry and significant authority from God, individually and in council "to lay down articles of faith...and to explain them" (Institutes 4.8.1; cf. 4.3.2-3). While Calvin goes on to criticize how the church's teaching authority has been often been exercised, he insists that this "does not mean that I esteem the ancient councils less than I ought, for I venerate them from my heart, and desire that they should be honored by all" (Institutes 4.9.1). Indeed, he goes on to say,
...if any discussion arises over doctrine, the best and surest remedy is for a synod of faithful bishops to be convened, where the doctrine at issue may be examined. Such a definition, upon which the pastors of the church agree in common, invoking Christ's Spirit, will have much more weight than if each one, having conceived it separately at home, should teach it to the people, or if a few private individuals should compose it...And the very feeling of piety so instructs us that, if any disturb the church with a strange doctrine, and the matter reach the point where there is danger of greater dissension, the church should first assemble, examine the question put, and finally, after due discussion, bring forth a definition derived from Scripture which would remove all doubt from the people... (Institutes 4.9.13)Any such decisions made in the past and appealed to in the present, moreover, should be diligently pondered and given their proper weight (Institutes 4.9.8). Thus, Calvin does not allow liberty of conscience with regard to doctrine to devolve into an individualist subjectivism, but places it within the context of a pious submission of the mind to the teaching authority of the church.
With regard to the rites and ceremonies that the church legislates, Calvin is similarly cautious. His basic principle is that "human laws, whether made by the magistrate or the church, even though they must be observed (I speak of good and just laws), still do not of themselves bind the conscience, for all obligation to observe law looks to the general purpose, but does not consist in the things enjoined" (Institutes 4.10.5). Calvin's difficulty is not with "holy and useful church institutions, which provide for the preservation of discipline or honesty or peace" but with laws that are conceived "apart from the Word of God" and are held up as "necessary for eternal life" or necessary for the proper worship of God (Institutes 4.10.1, 6). So long as the church appoints ceremonies, making it clear that they are not necessary for salvation and devising only what has some biblical warrant as edifying to God's people, then Calvin says "it is the duty of Christian people to keep [these] ordinances...with a free conscience, indeed, without superstition, yet with a pious and ready inclination to obey" (Institutes 4.10.30-31).
Calvin's approach to these matters came to be especially influential among later Protestant thinkers regarding conscience who, in turn, renewed the study of medieval and Catholic thinkers regarding conscience. A chief example in this regard was the Reformed Anglican William Perkins (1558-1602) whose "A Discourse of Conscience" and "The Whole Treatise of Cases of Conscience" developed a full-blown Protestant casuistry that, in may ways, paralleled that of the later Jesuit theologians. Perkins' thought completes Calvin's progression beyond Luther with a return to a full discussion of individual cases of conscience and with great care in maintaining a proper scope for authorities, though still all in a decidedly Protestant context of liberty of conscience with connection to justification by faith.10
In the 20th century, Catholic theologians have developed their own theological tradition regarding conscience beyond the more narrowly juridical and casuistic confines that characterized much ethical thought since the time of Trent. This development is, in part, a result of retrieving a more authentic understanding of Thomas Aquinas' own ethical theory, including that of conscience, as more fully teleological and virtue-oriented (e.g., in the thought of Yves Congar, Karl Rahner, and Bernard Lonergan, without thereby downplaying their own original contributions)11 . In part, however, this development is also attributable to a greater appreciation by Catholic theorists for the centrality of political freedom of conscience (here John Courtney Murray, for instance, looms large) as well as attention to the possibilities and limits of dissent from political and ecclesiastical authorities (anti-war movements and the Curran case, for example, play important roles here within their respective spheres).
The teachings of the Second Vatican Council express some of these shifts and concerns at various places.12 On one hand, fairly traditional themes regarding conscience are sounded in Gaudium et Spes 16,
In the depths of his conscience, man detects a law which he does not impose upon himself, but which holds him to obedience. Always summoning him to love good and avoid evil, the voice of conscience when necessary speaks to his heart: do this, shun that. For man has in his heart a law written by God; to obey it is the very dignity of man; according to it he will be judged...Hence the more right conscience holds sway, the more persons and groups turn aside from blind choice and strive to be guided by the objective norms of morality. Conscience frequently errs from invincible ignorance without losing its dignity. The same cannot be said for a man who cares but little for truth and goodness, or for a conscience which by degrees grows practically sightless as a result of habitual sin.As the Council's discussion is examined, however, it becomes clear that the implications of this traditional picture are being followed out in new ways. For example, Dignitatis Humanae 2 states that there is a basic immunity from coercion in religious matters, "...in such wise that in matters religious no one is to be forced to act in a manner contrary to his own conscience...nor is anyone to be restrained from acting in accordance with his own conscience, whether privately or publicly, whether alone or in association with others, within due limits."
This assertion is mostly negative, however, promoting a "freedom from" force in matters of conscience. It is not intended to secure a positive right to follow one's conscience in every circumstance, even if erring or malformed, though it does aver - in keeping with the Thomistic tradition - that an individual is always "bound to follow his conscience faithfully". The Council's statements are importantly grounded in key notions of universal human dignity, to wit,
...all men are bound to seek the truth, especially in what concerns God and His Church, and to embrace the truth they come to know, and to hold fast to it...it is upon the human conscience that these obligations fall and exert their binding force. The truth cannot impose itself except by virtue of its own truth, as it makes its entrance into the mind at once quietly and with power. (Dignitatis Humanae 1)These considerations are applied by the Council most clearly to issues of political freedom from coercion in matters of conscience (see, e.g., Dignitatis Humanae, esp. 2-3; Gaudium et Spes 79; etc.). Nevertheless, it would seem that such sweeping statements would also have implications for the relation between the individual conscience and the teaching authority of the church itself. These implications, however, are not drawn out by the Council and indeed some of its statements appear almost unaware of what might have been implied. For example, Gaudium et Spes not only mentions that the church "has a sacred reverence for the dignity of conscience and its freedom of choice" (42), but also that an individual "must always be governed according a conscience dutifully conformed to the divine law itself, and should be submissive toward the Church's teaching office, which authentically interprets that law in the light of the Gospel" (50). It is the precise nature of this "submission" which is at the core of debates regarding the possibility and limits of theological dissent.
In Catholic moral theory, the question of dissent out of conviction of conscience concerns primarily those matters which are part of the non-infallible teaching of the church, though the extent and limits upon infallibility may itself sometimes be an area of dispute (e.g., while a Council may perhaps infallibly teach regarding the basic principles of natural law, its teachings regarding specific applications of such principles need not be taken to be infallible; the line between principle and application, however, is a fuzzy one). Regarding such non-infallible teaching the church asks that the faithful grant some form of due submission to that teaching. Specifically, the 1983 Code of Canon Law states:
While the assent of faith [fidei assensus] is not required, a religious submission of intellect and will [religiosum...intellectus et voluntatis obsequium] is to be given to any doctrine which either the Supreme Pontiff or the College of Bishops, exercising their authentic magisterium, declare [enuntiant] upon a matter of faith or morals, even though they do not intend to proclaim that doctrine by definitive act. (Canon 752; cf. Lumen Gentium 25)The semantic range of "obsequium", however, is a wide one suggesting anything ranging from "obedience" or "submission" to "due respect" or "diligent consideration", depending upon context and the object of the obsequium. For instance, given the long recognition of a hierarchy of truths within the church's teaching and given the assertion of Aquinas that matters of ethical detail are more open to error (ST Ia IIae, q. 94, a. 4), moral teachings of the church regarding quite specific matters may be due a lesser degree of submission than teaching regarding more general principles.13
The exact character of the obsequium involved apparently is not clarified by the penalty attached to the violation of Canon 752 since that violation itself is ambiguously described as "obstinately rejecting [pertinaciter respuit]" non-infallible teaching (Canon 1371). After all, dissent resulting from the careful examination of a well-formed conscience in dialogue with Scripture and tradition and after due reflection could hardly be described as pertinaciter. Thus it seems reasonable to conclude that the obsequium in question is one that suggests varying degrees of acceptance with respect the church's non-infallible teachings and even the possibility of respectful dissent, under the appropriate conditions.14
Indeed, the teachers of the church themselves have suggested guidelines under which dissent from non-infallible teaching may be licit and appropriate. In language similar to that of John Henry Newman's Letter to the Duke of Norfolk (1874), the German bishops have allowed that dissent may be justifiable when one has made a serious attempt to esteem and embrace the teaching in question as an individual who has the requisite theological expertise to make such a judgment and who has examined the conscience for any ill motives. The American bishops have likewise affirmed the possibility of responsible dissent and its expression, if it is done so for serious and well-founded reasons in a manner that neither impugns the church's rightful magisterium nor gives way to scandal.15
While some theologians and persons within the authority structure of the church appear uncomfortable with even this qualified degree of openness to dissent for the sake of conscience, it seems that these formulations have gained an important place within Catholic moral theology regarding the conscience.16 As such, they are to be placed among those items that represent an authentic development of doctrine. More could certainly be said regarding these much discussed issues of conscience and dissent within the modern church, but this brief exposition will suffice.
In conclusion, we can review several important features of the conscience that have been accepted by all the various theologians we have reviewed or, at least, have come to gain wide acceptance since their times. First, even if emotive elements are included within the functions of conscience, it is seen primarily in terms of its making moral and religious judgments, whether it is identified more with particular acts of judgments (Aquinas), the underlying faculty for judgment (Luther), or both (Calvin).
Second, the conscience is seen as acting both antecedently and consequently in relation to action, though particular thinkers may emphasize the conscience's role either in coming to conclusions about possible courses of action (Aquinas) or making judgments about the subject's completed actions (Luther).
Third, while all these thinkers allow that the object of conscience may be particular choices or acts, emerging from the Reformation, there is an increasing tendency to stress the overarching religious function of conscience as both a focal point of relationship of the entire person with God and as a means by which God's judgments regarding the whole person are made known. The teaching of the Second Vatican Council regarding religious freedom even appears to be rooted in similar concerns.
Fourth, although most of these theologians demonstrate a ready and willing respect for and submission to the authorities of both church and state, after Luther's reforms greater attention is given to the possibility and limits of appropriate dissent from those authorities. It is here, in particular, that some rapprochement between Protestant and Catholic theologians may be possible.
On one hand, the experience of the Roman Catholic church since the time of the Protestant Reformation perhaps suggests that some measure of dissent needs to be tolerated within specific limits and when carried out in a proper manner.17 On the other hand, the experience of Protestant bodies, especially within the United States, could be taken as a warning concerning the kinds of divisions and discord that can occur when dissent and more subjectivist notions of liberty of conscience are permitted free rein apart from a sense of due submission to the teaching offices of the church.18
It is in this context that the Catholic church's teaching regarding the obsequium animi religiosum and the possibility of dissent begin to converge with Reformational notions of the liberty of conscience and teaching authority. Here we can recall Calvin's distaste for dissension within the church, his positive "veneration" of conciliar teachings and call for them to be "honored by all," as well as his advocating a "pious and ready inclination to obey" what the church asks of the faithful even while maintaining a free conscience. Likewise we can appeal to the Westminster Confession of Faith when it maintains that the decrees and determinations of church synods and councils are "to be received with reverence and submission" (31.3). Although there will remain areas of deep and abiding disagreement between Catholics and Protestants with regard to church authority (e.g., infallibility, the shape of the papacy, etc.), enough commonality can be established within the realm of freedom of conscience and proper dissent to constitute ecumenical progress.
Notes
1. See D'Arcy 1961 and Baylor 1977:20-69 for an extended discussion of Aquinas' sources. Curran 1985:215-220 also gives a briefer summation. For the biblical picture see James Turro's essay in Bier 1969:3-8.2. As Baylor 1977:48-52 argues in some detail.
3. The following exposition has be drawn in large part from Pieper 1965:14-22 and Baylor 1977:58-66.
4. On Ockham see Baylor 1977:70-91.
5. On Biel see Baylor 1977:91-115.
6. Many of following references to and much of the analysis of Luther are drawn from Hallesby 1933, Van Til 1972, Baylor 1977:209-272.
7. For Luther in historical context see Olivier 1978. Regarding Newman's views see John P. Boyle's essay in Curran and McCormick 1999:337-341.
8. See Hatch 1989 for a discussion of these problems in the American context.
9. Van Til 1972 discusses Calvin's views in brief. Also see David Little's essay in Bier 1969:20-28. Unfortunately, it appears that barely any extensive study of Calvin's view of conscience has been attempted.
10. In connection with Perkins we can also note the statement of the Westminster Confession of Faith (1646) that "God alone is lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men which are in any thing contrary to his word, or beside it, in matters of faith and worship" (XX.ii). Moreover, giving the assent of faith or blind obedience to such teachings "out of conscience" is to "destroy liberty of conscience". Given the background of Calvin and Perkins, however, these statements cannot be construed in such a way that church authority and due submission are undermined or a individualistic subjectivism is promoted.
Moreover, note that the Westminster Confession goes on to teach, in its later chapter "Of Synods and Councils" that such ecclesiastical bodies have the right and duty "to determine controversies of faith, and cases of conscience...which decrees and determinations, if consonant to the Word of God, are to be received with reverence and submission, not only for their agreement with the Word, but also for the power whereby they are made, as being an ordinance of God, appointed thereunto in his Word" (XXXI.iii). There is no hint here that the conscience can function as a indiviudal, subjective authority apart from its proper formation and guidance by the wider church, under the Word of God.
11. In his exposition of conscience, Curran 1985:236-244 makes use of Lonergan and Rahner.
12. See Richard J. Regan's essay in Bier 1969:29-36, Francis A. Sullivan's essay in Curran and McCormick 1988:42-57, John P. Boyle's essay in Curran and McCormick 1999:326-348.
13. A helpful discussion of the notion of obsequium is to be found in Avery Dulles' essay in Curran and McCormick 1988:97-111.
14. Two differing perspectives on canonical issues can be found in the essays by John P. Boyle and Landislas Orsy in Curran and McCormick 1988:191-238.
15. The texts of the episcopal statements can be found in Curran and McCormick 1988:127-132.
16. For arguments from a more "traditionalist" perspective, see, e.g., Germain Grisez's essay in Curran and McCormick 1988:58-96.
17. The case of Galileo and certain statements of the Pontifical Biblical Commission come to mind. See Avery Dulles' comments in Curran and McCormick 1988:103-104.
18. Again, see Hatch 1989.
Works Cited and Consulted
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