On occasion the life of the spirit we call conscience calls for a significant alteration of course, turning from an opinion which thought and experience now identify as erroneous. Sometimes, perhaps most often, this can be arranged for quietly, with little embarrassment to one’s self or surprise to others. Other times it cannot, particularly when the life of the mind has been lived in public and exercised with authority, whether that of rhetoric used to convince others of a truth now doubted, or, at the other extreme, power to traduce or govern by an article now questioned. Now doing the right thing becomes costly: one is confronted with the loss of reputation, livelihood, and the comforts of association. As soon as such possibilities appear on the horizon a decision must be made on what to do and how to do it, and one must deal with all the natural desires--let us now call them temptations, because they appear as alternatives to doing right--to avoid public renunciation of a publicly confessed error, and to take an easier road.
There are a number of ways this may be done. One is simply to make oneself blind to the disturbing possibility and commit with increased vigor to partisanship of the error. Another, fairly common among intellectuals, I believe, is to avoid the larger issues that once caused concern and concentrate on minutiae. The Lord called attention to the broader phenomenon this involves, characterizing it as tithing mint and cumin while ignoring the greater matters of the law. It is a way of evading the demands of conscience. Another, much spoken of by Kierkegaard, is objectification of the problem, refusing to recognize the personal dimensions of the question with the passion that love and appropriate regard for reality require.
Another is to engage in friendly relations with those who do and believe what one now suspects is right, patronizing them without joining them. Or one might invent or join a mediating caucus that recognizes good, honest, intelligent people on both sides of the question, all of whom should recognize their deeper association in fundamental truth and be at peace with each other--thus hoping to satisfy conscience by doling out a portion of what it demands. Or one might contrive to ignore the matter by concentrating on the cultivation of one’s own garden, relegating the brush with an authoritative conscience to a buried past, retaining it now not as the voice of a master, but as a kind of domestic servant, useful in a restricted sphere, but not allowed to venture into the greater world where in former days it had roamed more freely, and so spoken with more general authority.
I am writing here of things I have seen among Christians. The irony of this is that if they noticed the same reactions to the directions of conscience among non-Christians considering the abandonment of their errors and belief in Christ, it would be clear that these were unbelievers evading the truth, and so risking the direst eternal consequences. What then shall the Lord say to professed believers who, coming to suspect within the precincts of the Faith that something once thought true is false, or something once thought false is true, find a way to ignore the thought or temporize it away?
"That hits close to home," he thought, as he further contemplated converting from his Restoration Movement heritage to the ancient home of the Orthodox Church...
Posted by: Kirk | October 28, 2007 at 01:15 PM
Dr. Hutchens,
This does, indeed, hit close to home. I have found something of this in my own personal move from egalitarianism to father-rule/patriarchy. In fact, I used to think you were one of the meanest guys on earth for the way you responded to my friends in the Touchstone symposium on the Christian Women's Declaration of some years ago (though I still fear for those who properly find themselves in your sights - you seem to be fearless in calling out error).
I tried to ignore the matter, tending my own garden, but I didn't find peace there. Nor could I find peace in trying to forge an intermediate place in the battle. In my own case God has provided the necessary courage with my embrace of correct belief. And He has repaid my sorrow over lost friends with the treasure of new friends. I draw stength from them and they have blessed me far beyond what I deserve.
I only hope I have been a small blessing to them in return.
SDG,
Kamilla
Posted by: Kamilla | October 28, 2007 at 02:27 PM
That is unsettling. Please go back to tickling my ears.
Posted by: labrialumn | October 28, 2007 at 10:19 PM
I understand the concept here, but I guess I've not been paying enough attention to other things to be able to know what the immediate current occasion is for this comment. Maybe there are other like me for whom this sounds like an elliptical inside discussion. Somebody want to let us in on it?
Posted by: DGus | October 29, 2007 at 07:31 AM
I seriously doubt, Dgus, that Hutchens would waste the MC public's time with an "elliptical inside discussion." On the contrary, it is a universal problem in any true conversion.
Bracing stuff, that.
Posted by: Steve Nicoloso | October 29, 2007 at 10:54 AM
SN: True enough--it's "a universal problem in any true conversion." So is Hutchens preparing us for an announcement of a conversion? Or, again, is this something that he's already announced and I wasn't paying attention?
Posted by: DGus | October 29, 2007 at 11:59 AM
SN: True enough--it's "a universal problem in any true conversion." So is Hutchens preparing us for an announcement of a conversion? Or, again, is this something that he's already announced and I wasn't paying attention?
Posted by: DGus | October 29, 2007 at 12:01 PM
Dgus, I don't assume that SMH is discussing anything personal here, but a few specific examples would help illuminate his argument. In general, however, I suspect most of us here on MC have had to face such crises more than once in the course of our spiritual journeys. If not, I suspect we're not paying attention.
Posted by: Bill R | October 29, 2007 at 12:31 PM
>>>On occasion the life of the spirit we call conscience calls for a significant alteration of course, turning from an opinion which thought and experience now identify as erroneous.<<<
It hits home for me too, particularly as just yesterday I made my first visit to a Traditional Anglican Parish here in SF (the only one). I'm an "entrenched" current member of an Episcopal Church (20 years). I've heard of entrenching tools; is there a de-trenching tool? I wouldn't say my conscience is at the insistent stage yet; still investigating to do. But it looks more and more like their is dye and it is waiting to be cast. Good to know about some things to look out for in the process. Thank you Dr. Hutchens.
Posted by: Tim | October 29, 2007 at 01:40 PM
I think in the Touchstonian project it is especially important not to mistake detente or a cease-fire for peace; or amicability for concord. That's my, far from authoritative interpretation, of Hutchens. But then perhaps, ironically, I'm reading in too much of my own baggage.
Posted by: Steve Nicoloso | October 29, 2007 at 03:46 PM
"I think in the Touchstonian project it is especially important not to mistake detente or a cease-fire for peace; or amicability for concord. That's my, far from authoritative interpretation, of Hutchens. But then perhaps, ironically, I'm reading in too much of my own baggage." - Steve Nicoloso
Actually I think SMH is making a different point. He is warning us to avoid the searing of our consciences that occurs when we have lost some article of faith, but yet take all manner of dissembling steps to avoid confessing our previous error, with all the damage to our soul that such falsity portends.
But fortunately SMH is likely to let us know which interpretation is correct.
Posted by: Bill R | October 29, 2007 at 04:35 PM
I agree with this post and appreciate its wisdom, but I don't understand the title.
Posted by: Respectabiggle | October 30, 2007 at 12:26 PM
I find the reactions to this posting particularly touching, and thank you my friends, for your observations. Blessings, particularly, on you Kamilla. I am happy beyond words you have done so well, and come to rest in a Good Place.
The observations are general, and only personal so far as they are things of which I need to remind myself from time to time; no conversion (of mine) to another church is in view. Indeed, you will remember that as a Protestant I am free to believe all believers are wholly and unqualifiedly members of the One, True Church. This is why I will in all likelihood always be identified as such, which I find regrettable, but see no way of escaping. While there is much room for repentence from my sins and amendment of life, I can't really see anything to convert to. There are only churches that are dead and living, better and worse, more right and less. In this context I do what I can.
These remarks arose from, let us call them, empathetic journeys my own mind takes when I consider what others must think when certain thoughts confront them and certain pathways open before them. (Some would be surprised at the depth of empathy I inherited from my mother. But it is a quality I keep strictly subordinated to my father's critical mind.) These area common experiences, I believe, well-worn byroads taken by many souls, and I see evidence of them in the writing, speaking, and behaviors of people I know. They are places I have viewed from my vantage, but hope to have avoided.
Steve N. is correct about the Touchstone project, and while I had thought the posting to run primarily along the lines Bill R discerns, Steve is free to recognize and apply any interpretations that are tangent to it. Much of the scripture is written in this way; one of the qualities of the Semitic thought--the poetry and proverbial forms in particular--in which it is based is that the expression of one thing does not exclude anything that resonates to it.
This struck me in particular when years ago I happened upon the legal maxim expressio unius exclusio alterius. While doubtless useful for the interpretation of legal documents, and definitely a part of the furniture of the "western mind," (and for which certain of my seminary papers were marked down by Bible professors who ought to have known better), it runs contrary to the flow of the "biblical" mind as I have been able understand it. The Bible cannot be heard properly if one blocks its "resonances," particularly, as Chesterton noted with great force, its paradoxes, around which the strongest ones resound.
Posted by: smh | October 30, 2007 at 12:52 PM
Steve, I think this means we're both right. ;-)
Posted by: Bill R | October 30, 2007 at 01:25 PM
Kierkegaard referred to faith's lack of objective certainty by the symbol of being "suspended over a depth of seventy-thousand fathoms." Above I noted that in certain situations, "doing the right thing becomes costly: one is confronted with the loss of reputation, livelihood, and the comforts of association. As soon as such possibilities appear on the horizon a decision must be made on what to do and how to do it."
This is to say that in doing the right thing one must believe that God will bless you for it, even though one's only reasonably assured "winning" prospects involve doing the wrong thing. These are moments in which one's faith is tried as Abraham's was in the demand for the sacrifice of that which was most precious to him.
It is interesting to consider how many ways Abraham might have avoided doing what he was told, and justified himself in doing so. He could have refused outright, abandoning God as cruel and evil; he could have put it off indefinitely, affecting the life of a religious man, yet without obedience; he could have, in the fashion of Cain, produced a substitute sacrifice to his own specifications, ete., etc. But the one and only right way involved doing exactly what he did, and waiting upon God in a situation where faith involved utter despair in any human solution: suspended over seventy thousand fathoms. Everyone comes to this place at death, and must finally give in. Life usually contains practice sessions for this.
Posted by: smh | October 30, 2007 at 01:29 PM
Dr. Hutchens,
Thank you for your kind and encouraging words. They are deeply appreciated.
Every once in a while I think about what it would mean to cross the Tiber or whatever the equivalent is to the East (the Bosporus?). But here I read your words:
"Indeed, you will remember that as a Protestant I am free to believe all believers are wholly and unqualifiedly members of the One, True Church. This is why I will in all likelihood always be identified as such, which I find regrettable, but see no way of escaping. While there is much room for repentence from my sins and amendment of life, I can't really see anything to convert to. There are only churches that are dead and living, better and worse, more right and less. In this context I do what I can."
And I find a faint echo of Luther's words rumbling around in my head. I guess, as a Protestant, I am allowed to claim those words thugh my feet remain planted in Canterbury.
Kamilla
Posted by: Kamilla | October 31, 2007 at 05:45 PM
Kamilla:
Canterbury does seem to me a place one should be, er, willing to vacate at short notice, and Luther is a particularly unreliable guide in church matters. If one is going to become planted here, Rome or Constantinople seem the best choices--if one can bring oneself to submit to either of those proud sisters. And if not, one must beg, as I do, at many doors, and take what one is given.
smh
Posted by: smh | November 01, 2007 at 12:59 PM
Oh, yes, already thinking about packing my bags. AMiA seems to be moving ever more steadily towards women's ordination. I don't think Abp Kolini will give us any option in the long run, now that the SE Asian leadership has removed itself.
For the time being, and for so many reasons, I am living with a sense of delicious anticipation of what the future holds for me even as I fear for the future of so many churches which are abandoning the faith.
Posted by: Kamilla | November 01, 2007 at 02:36 PM
We live in an age of upheaval in the churches, but the Church endures as the ground and pillar of Truth, ever faithful to her Lord, a strong refuge to her children, and a place of great rejoicing. I think our Mother's voice may be clearly heard above the din. Das Ewig-Weibliche zieht uns hinan.
Posted by: smh | November 01, 2007 at 04:47 PM