FREEDOM OF A CHRISTIAN CONSCIENCE

“…the sense of conflict which many Catholics seem to have today really derives not from greater awareness but precisely from a lack of true self-awareness, from a superficial understanding of what it means to be a Catholic, from a failure to grasp the freedom and self-determination of their own Catholic position.” -Burke

This argument posed by Burke holds a very powerful position which gives a special emphasis on one’s misconception, if not misuse of his own conscience.  Bearing in mind the truth that the “Church is the home of freedom”, as Burke believes, many people fail to feel free within the Church for they feel too much bounded and obliged by the numerous laws, teachings and rubrics of the Church.  In the same manner, many find it difficult to obey and believe what the Church authority has to say if they find them going against the dictates of their own consciences.

What, then, is the cause for this faction between one’s conscience and the Church authority?  Does this imply that there are certain errors in the contents of the Church’s teaching?  Or are we to question the credibility of the person who teaches the people?  We say that in teaching about matters of faith and morals, the Church has a special role to play, and that as the Church pronounces a teaching on these matters, in a solemn proclamation, She is infallible.  The problem builds up a wall which separates conscience and Church authority on two opposing poles which can never be reconciled.  Thus, when one belongs in the Church, he feels like he is not free to obey his conscience.  And, if one is a pagan, he would never want to belong to the Church because there, he will not be free to work out the dictates of his conscience.  The question here is whether being under the authority of the Church forbids one to live by his conscience.  In other words, does the authority of the Church suspend one’s freedom (in its form as internal or external)?

The aim of this paper is an attempt to elaborate the position taken by Burke in the light of the previous discussions about conscience and freedom.  This also tries to answer certain questions which arise from Burke’s lines I have quoted above.

            Conscience, as it has been said, is the subjective norm of morality.  Hence, when one acts according to his conscience, he is judging his act subjectively.  But it should be noted that one’s conscience never creates new laws about good and evil.  Rather, it applies a general law in a specific case.  This, then, implies that the conscience is able to learn and retain a general law which it will be using in the future as it tries to assess certain events.

            The general law which one’s conscience applies to cases is a law of morality that is one and the same for all, given by one from whom all laws originate, i.e. God.  As the law says it, what is good is good; what is evil is evil.  And that can never change, nor can it be changed.  Hence, the general law which a person knows is the same general law which other persons know.  To put it in context, the general law which one’s conscience uses is the same general law which other people’s conscience uses in specific cases.  Hence, though conscience is understood as the subjective norm of morality, it is never to be misconceived with relativity.  Being subjective does not necessitate being relative.

            This implies, then, that one’s conscience can be formed, in that it is capable of comprehending the general law.  And from whom does a person rely for the formation of his conscience?  Here, the special task of the Church to teach on matters of faith and moral comes in.  Since the duty of teaching has been entrusted her, as has been in the Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition, she must be faithful in doing her duty.  The Church must form the conscience of her members after the precepts given by Jesus Christ.  The members, for their side, runs to the Church for the formation of their conscience.  Hence, one does not simply form his conscience for the sake of having a true and authentic conscience.  Rather, he works on forming his conscience to have a Christian conscience, or in our context, a Catholic Conscience so that no matter what one’s status in life is, no matter what is his occupation, he will always live according to his Christian conscience.

On this regard, the Church does not compel everyone to rely solely on her for the conscience formation, for it would be like a force imposed on the members of the Church.  Rather, She invites everyone to such doing.  As for now, the question regarding the Church authority and one’s freedom needs to be addressed.

            Is being under the authority of the Church suggest a violation and loss of freedom?   No.  Just as a Filipino citizen retains his freedom though he may be under the authority of the Philippine government, so a Christian retains his freedom though he is under the care of the Church.  A Filipino citizen begins to think that he is no longer free when he loses grip of how it is to be a Filipino, when he does not understand that being a Filipino includes his obedience and adherence to the laws and decrees of the Philippine government.

The loss of freedom which many people feel when they are in the Church arise from the lack of true self-awareness, from a superficial understanding of what it means to be a Catholic.  Many people fail to recognize the role of the Church in their lives, setting the Church aside in their daily living, and considering her merely in her cultic functions.  Similarly, they might have a wrong notion of freedom, in that they thought of freedom as absolute – one which one can consider purely his own and which meddling with implies a loss, if not a violation of one’s freedom.  If one has a clear understanding of his being a member of the Church, he would never feel that he loses his freedom.  If one has a clear understanding of what is it to be in the Church he would never feel that the Church’s teachings go against his conscience.  If one’s conscience is formed in the Catholic context, he would have a never feel that what the Church tells him denies him of his freedom.  In Burke’s words, They [some Catholics] are not being forced by the authority of the Church; they are being forced by their own belief in the authority of the Church… They are in effect being forced by their own conscience!  The faction between freedom and the Church authority, then, is self inflicted.

            In the end, a person is not deprived of his freedom though he is under the authority of the Church.  Freedom, insofar as it is the power to be fully oneself – a power to realize fully our potentialities as man, cannot be confined in the notion of absence of being under barriers, and authority.  It should also not to be understood as an absolute freedom.  Accordingly, in the Church, a person does not feel that his conscience, as it is the practical judgment of reason whereby the human person recognizes the moral reality of the act he will perform, he is performing, or he had performed, dictates otherwise what the Church teaches if he has a true and clear understanding of how and what is it to be in the Church, i.e., to be a Catholic.  Hence, a part of being a Christian, inasmuch as he bears the name of Christ, is forming oneself according to the example of Christ, not just his actions but his mindset as well.  Forming one’s conscience within the context of the Church is vital for the full realization of one’s freedom under the authority of the Church.  Only after the truth about faith and morals, which the Church teaches, have been learned, the reality of freedom can be understood and attained.  Just as St. Peter said, “…and the truth will set you free.”

The Sorrowful Mysteries

            “Let us pray the Holy Rosary. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” 

“Amen.”

            “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of…”

            I was in my room, lying on my bed.  From the open door of my room, I could see my mother.  She was there kneeling in front of the small altar in our house.  She was there for a long time now.  She never moved.  She was just there – hands clutched above her chest, her eyes fixed on the floor, on the dusty floor of our house.  She never said a word.  She never talked to me.

            “Ma, don’t you want to go to sleep?  It’s almost one in the morning.”

            “Go ahead my son, I will sleep afterwards.”

            I laid my head on my bed and thought of what my mother might have been doing.  It was so strange.  I never saw her so much troubled like this before.  I felt that something is not right.

            “Ma… Ma… where are you, ma?”

            I saw my mother early in the morning, standing by the door.  She was just there looking outside, looking at the people passing by our house.  There were so many of them, all were in a hurry.  Some of them brought their children.  Some of them went in groups, men and women of all ages and civil status.

            My mother took my hand and we made haste to go where the crowd was going.  My feet were stepped upon over a hundred times.  I want to cry.  I want to go home but my mother took a tight hold of my small hands.  I don’t want to go.  My stomach was grumbling – I never had my breakfast.  The commotion brought us to the plaza.  But I can’t see what was happening because of the many people, and I am but a small boy.

            My mother stood still, looking at the center of the open field.  She let go of my hands and held her hands over her chest.  Her eyes were full of sadness.  My mother wanted to cry.  I saw teardrops wanting to fall from her eyes but they cannot.  My mother’s face was cold.  She was terrified, she was troubled, and she was in pain.  People were shouting, but I never understand what they were saying.  A loud scream from the middle of the plaza froze my mother to her place for some moment.

            “Ma, are you alright?”

            “Yes.”

            “It’s already noon. My stomach is empty. I haven’t taken my breakfast yet.”

            It was almost three in the afternoon and we were still in the plaza.  Suddenly, the crowd began to move.  Some of them ran, some of them walked; some were crying, others were laughing, some were shouting, others were whispering.  The people followed the officers guiding them.  The guards brought bars to strike whoever might cause trouble to the people.  An officer looked at me ferociously and smiled with a grin.  I stared at him and pretend that I am not afraid of him.

            I was scared of the sight.  I was frightened.  I really don’t want to go.  I just want to go home and play with my friends.  I let go of my mother’s hand and ran home.  I never looked back; I never wanted to go back.  I kept on running.  I fell down to the dusty ground.  No one noticed me.  No one cared.  No one wanted to help.  I helped myself up my feet.  Tears began making their way from my eyes down to my cheeks.  I ran  away from that noisy place, from that horrible place.

            I was running for a long time but I was going no nearer to our house.  Then the clouds began to cover the sky.  It began to grow dark.  In no time, the bright sky was turned to a dark night.  Lightning was the only light that made it possible for me to see the ground.  But the thunders scared me.

            “Mama! Mama! Where are you!? Mama! Has anybody seen my mama!?”

            I was in the middle of nowhere.  People ran passed by me.  But no Mama showed up.  I cried aloud with all my voice until I pant.  A loud scream of a man scared me more.  The man shouted really loud together with the loud roar of thunder.  Out of nowhere, I felt a hand grabbing my hand tightly.

            "It is done!," shouted the man.

             It is done. I am done.  I will die in this place.  I will never see my mama again.  I will die in the midst of this crowd, in the darkness of this day.

“Mama!  Mama!”

My mother embraced me tightly.  I felt secured and comforted.  I never wanted that moment to end.  I never want to leave her arms.

“Mama… your hands… they’re bleeding.  Your clothes, mama, they are bleeding.”

“He’s gone.”

“Who? Who is gone mama?”

“Your brother.”

“I have a brother?  How? Wh…”

She took a glance at a huge piece of wood standing behind me.  I took all courage to look up too.  I saw there a man, no it is not a man, it is… he is covered with wounds.

“Mama!  He cannot move! His hands… his feet… let us help him down mama!”

My mother took me in her arms again.  I can feel her pain.  I can feel her sorrow.  I can feel her heart being torn to pieces by the sight.  I can sense the ache she felt while standing there next to the man nailed on the huge wood.

I cannot bear the sight.  I cannot look at it any longer.  I threw myself to my mother’s arms and cried.  I cried aloud.  I felt sorry for the man nailed up there.  I felt sorry for my mother for losing her son.  I felt sorry for myself for failing to know my brother so soon.

From behind me, I heard a guard said: “Truly this man is God’s Son!”

I cried.  And I cried aloud.  I cried aloud until I faint.

…

“Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God…”

“…that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”

I took my pen and my notebook and wrote: “Lord Jesus, I am sorry for caring too much for myself that I forget you.  I am sorry for failing to love your mother, Mary.  I am sorry for failing to love you.  Please forgive me, Lord, my GOD.  Amen.”

“…and may the blessings of the Almighty God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, descend upon us and be with us always.”

“Amen.”

“Mary, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary…”

“Pray for us.”