Peace: A Matter of Conscience

Don Friesen
November 12, 2006
Ottawa Mennonite Church

www.ottawamennonite.ca

There is great concern about security these days, both with respect to international security and home security. Security companies tout their wares, and homes increasingly are armed with security systems. I cannot testify as to the effectiveness of these systems, but they certainly help to raise funds for the police force, who answer many a false alarm.

Aware of concerns about home security, a journalism professor in Tennessee came up with a lock to deter burglars. It was not a very sophisticated lock and sold for only a few dollars, but he thought it would be effective, for on each lock he placed a picture of Jesus! A novel approach, and perhaps it would work in Tennessee, where even thieves, it appears, retain a residue of Christian morality. I have my doubts, however, about it working in many other places today. The professor thought that a thief would hesitate to jam a jimmying tool into Jesus' face, but I'm not so sure that the modern conscience is sufficiently biblically literate to be so inhibited!

The Prick of Conscience

In fact, the jury may still be out on conscience itself! Some consider conscience to be implanted by God. Epictetus (55-135), a Stoic philosopher, said that just as wealthy parents entrust the care of their children to a nursery slave, so God entrusts souls to the conscience implanted in us. Many in our theological history would say the same. Church Fathers like Augustine (354-430) considered conscience to be a divine faculty. Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) called it "the pedagogue of the soul".

Many in our literary history would concur. In John Milton's (1608-74) Paradise Lost (1667), God says, "I will place within them as a guide My umpire conscience," a nice image, especially for baseball fans. Robert Browning (1812-89) calls conscience the "great beacon-light God sets in us all". Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), claims that conscience is the image of God in humankind. "It is the divinest thing in us," he wrote.

In Christian discourse, the conscience is considered to be a storehouse of moral principles, a storehouse full of the knowledge of good and evil. There is the expectation that a person with a conscience has the ability to judge between right and wrong. Others, however, would argue the relativity of conscience, holding that its dictates depend to a great extent upon that which forms and influences it. The content of conscience can vary from person to person, especially if formed independent from biblical revelation. A clear conscience, for example, may simply mean that your head, heart and soul are empty! One of the characters in the Watergate debacle confessed that he had lost his "ethical compass," another apt analogy for conscience.

Whatever our view of conscience — as innate faculty or the product of hit-and-miss formation — the consensus seems to be that where it is resident it is a bothersome entity. Socrates (470-399 B.C.) said that conscience is like a nagging spouse from whom there is no divorce. He complained that it is often a voice of constraint, that "it always forbids, but never commands me to do anything...." (David Jeffrey, Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature, page 154) A seventeenth-century poet talked of the "prick of conscience". (Robert Herrick) James Joyce (1882-1941) spoke of the "ache of conscience" (A Portrait of the Artist as Young Man, 1916), Shelley (1792-1822) of the "hounds of Conscience," and another writer (George Herbert) called conscience an insidious "prattler," a carping adversary. Even those who have severed their conscience from biblical instruction may still retain a vague uneasy feeling about things. "Conscience," said one pundit, "is the inner voice which warns you someone may be looking." (H.L. Mencken)

We talk of a having a troubled conscience, an uneasy conscience, an anxious conscience, a guilty conscience! I have read that the Chinese define conscience as a triangle that turns within you every time you do wrong, its sharp points hurting you as it turns — but — if you can endure it, in time the sharp points wear off.

The Scriptures Encourage a Clear Conscience

The Scriptures acknowledge the troublesome aspects of a robust conscience, speaking, for example, of the "pangs of conscience". (1 Samuel 25:31) To pay conscience no mind would be ill-advised, say the Scriptures. By rejecting conscience," says 1 Timothy, "certain persons have suffered shipwreck in the faith...." (1 Timothy 1:19) The Scriptures also talk of those "whose consciences are as dead as seared flesh" (1 Timothy 4:2), those whose "consciences are corrupted" (Titus 1:15), and of the need to "purify our conscience". (Hebrews 9:14) One of the apocryphal books talks of those who "suppressed their consciences and turned away their eyes from looking to Heaven or remembering their duty to administer justice." (Susanna 1:9)

The Scriptures acknowledge the bothersome aspects of conscience, but they are also respectful of conscience, the Apostle Paul, for example, referring to it as a credible witness in choosing right from wrong. (Romans 2:15; 9:1; 2 Corinthians 1:12) He considers the "ground of conscience" (1 Corinthians 10:25, 27) a good basis upon which to make ethical decisions.

The New Testament often encourages a clear conscience. Paul said, "I do my best always to have a clear conscience toward God and all people." (Acts 24:16; compare Acts 23:1; 2 Timothy 1:3) And in his letters to his young protege, Timothy, Paul encouraged church leaders to "hold fast to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience." (1 Timothy 3:9)

The Apostle Peter encouraged the same. "Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame." (1 Peter 3:16) He describes baptism as "an appeal to God for a good conscience...." (1 Peter 3:21) The book of Hebrews also stresses the importance of a good and clear conscience, saying, "we are sure that we have a clear conscience, desiring to act honourably in all things." (Hebrews 13:18)

The Challenge of Conscience

Conscience may be a nettlesome thing to have, some claiming, for example, that few executives can afford the luxury of having a conscience (Dan Miller, Chicago Daily News, July 29, 1970), and, indeed, many who search their consciences with more to inform it than pragmatic considerations, have followed the dictates of their conscience at great cost to themselves.

Our Old Testament story from the book of Exodus is one of the earliest tales in our tradition of people who, for reasons of conscience took an unpopular stand. The story takes place when the Israelites were slaves in Egypt. As the years stretched into decades and centuries, the Israelites increased in number. Oppression did not seem to impair their fertility, and the king of Egypt was threatened by the potential power of these slaves. And so he came up with a plan; the king ordered midwives to kill all the Hebrew boys that were born. He thought he could count on the loyalty of a handful of women to keep the Hebrew population in check.

The midwives, however, feared God more than the king, and their conscience overruled any risk to their own lives. They did not do as ordered. (Exodus 1:17) The king was not pleased with opposition — rulers seldom are — and he called two of them on the carpet! He demanded to know of them the reason for their insubordination! And here's where the Old Testament tale takes a delightful twist. Puah and Shiphrah, the two midwives challenged by the king, reply that "the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before" the midwife arrives! (Exodus 1:19)

Now, in the biblical narrative this is yet another instance in which slaves outwit their masters, an instance in which all of the wealth, sophistication and power of Egypt are no match for the Lord, who used the conscience of the midwives to preserve the life of Moses, who went on to lead the slaves out of oppression and slavery and into the Promised Land! God was pleased with the midwives' resistance. (Exodus 1:20-21)

Conscience may prevail in the biblical story, but it is hardly a comfortable stance. Consider another Old Testament story, the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, in the book of Daniel. Yes, the Lord was on their side, but they had lots of time, and cause, to re-consider their convictions as they entered the blazing flames of a fiery furnace. (Daniel 3) Daniel himself had reasons to reconsider the trustworthiness of conscience as he was dropped into a pit full of hungry lions! (Daniel 6)

Jesus' own Gethsemane experience shows that it was no easy matter, even for him, to follow his conscience. It was one thing to stand up to the authorities; it was quite another to die! Likewise, the Early Church wrestled with issues of conscience, the Apostle Paul, for example, called on the carpet several times, but as he told one set of authorities, "I have lived my life with a clear conscience before God." (Acts 23:1) When the Roman authorities who were threatening to whip him discovered that Paul was a Roman citizen, Paul won a brief reprieve, but eventually he landed in a Roman prison!

Christian conscience can be a troublesome and costly thing, but it has stood up to many an authority, whether in the fearsome times of Diocletian (245-313), the more sedate but no less insidious time of Constantine (280-337), or the times of own Anabaptist forebears, when they suffered all manner of cruelty, incarceration, and death, all for the sake of conscience.

Peace: a Matter of Conscience for Many

In the following century, Anglican Bishop Jeremy Taylor (1613-67), growing dubious about claims to conscience, wrote, in his book, The Rule of Conscience (Ductor Dubitantium, 1660), "If arms be taken up in a violent warre; inquire of both sides, why they ingage on that part respectively? They answer, because of their Conscience." (David Jeffrey, Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature, page 155)

Now, Taylor was concerned about the abuse of good conscience, weary of people using it to justify any public action they choose, but war and peace have often brought conscience to the fore. That is certainly true of our own tradition. The sixteenth-century Anabaptists did not support war against the Turks of the Ottoman Empire that were threatening Europe and had conquered parts of it. As my old seminary friend, Duane Beachey, points out, the Muslims of that day had actual armies and more power than Muslim terrorists today! Which leads to his chagrin that Mennonites today support the Iraq war! There is a serious disconnect between our faith and our actions! ("How can Mennonites support war?" The Mennonite, September 5, 2006)

Traditionally, the Mennonite expression of the Christian faith has meant a refusal to go to war, but a century ago in Canada there was no official option to be a conscientious objector to war. Mennonite church leaders met with government leaders after the First World War to rectify the matter. At one such meeting in 1940 the church leaders proposed an alternative to military conscription, suggesting a service administered by the church that would be active in relief work, public works, forestry, and health and welfare services.

There is something about war that is very impatient with dissent, and with alternatives, and at this meeting the government representatives pressed for a service under military control. Both sides became frustrated, and at one point in the meeting there was a heated exchange between Deputy Minister Lafleche, also a Major-General, and Rev. Jacob Janzen (1878-1950), Alexandra Neufeld's father, and Philip's grandfather.

Lafleche asked Janzen: "What will you do if we shoot you?" And Janzen, who had survived several desperate situations in the Soviet Union became agitated and replied, "Listen, General, you can't scare us like that. I've looked down too many rifle barrels in my time. This thing has been in our blood for 400 years and you can't take it away from us like you'd crack a piece of kindling over your knee. I've been before a firing squad twice. We believe in this." (www.alternativeservice.ca/uncertainty/government/government2.htm)

The delegation's persistence paid off eventually, and the alternative service option was approved. E.J. Swalm, a Brethren in Christ church leader who was also at that meeting, supported the alternative service option for young men. Having experienced prison himself, he admired their courage and dedicated his book, Nonresistance Under Test (1949), to them. It took great courage to follow the dictates of conscience in World War II, for it was a war widely supported.

It takes great courage to follow one's conscience when one's convictions run counter to the status quo and when so much appears to be at stake. Conscientious objection to war was difficult for North American Mennonites in the last century; churches were searched, vandalized, and burned down! Objectors were intimidated. David Schroeder, professor emeritus of Canadian Mennonite University, and a conscientious objector himself, says, "It takes even more courage to resist the draft when the government of the land is actively recruiting and drafting people who would not enlist out of their own accord, and threatens imprisonment for persons who resist the draft. It takes courage to resist such fear of imprisonment and death." (alternativeservice.ca/hard/)

John M. Schmidt, a Mennonite Brethren leader, tells of being ridiculed by his peers, but such experiences, he says, "helped to crystallize my personal perspective of a Christian's position in war," adding, "We have yet to discover the basic principle of Jesus, that an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth leaves both parties blind and toothless." (John M. Schmidt, "The War and My Conscience," Mennonite Brethren Herald, October 25, 1991)

Jesus' words could not be clearer: "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you." (Luke 6:27-28) In like fashion the Apostle Paul wrote, "Beloved, never avenge yourselves, ...leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.'" (Romans 12:19) "Love your enemies," repeats Jesus in our Gospel reading. "Love your enemies.... Your reward will be great, ...you will be children of the Most High...." (Luke 6:35)

Forging a Conscience in the Smithy of our Souls

Bob Dylan sings: "Preacher was a talkin,' there's a sermon he gave, He said every man's conscience is vile and depraved, You cannot depend on it to be your guide...." ("Man in the Long Black Coat," 1989) This preacher does not agree. Conscience can be our guide, but its quality as a guide is determined by the quality of the person being guided, and by one's willingness to let one's conscience be shaped. Christian conscience must be shaped by Christian revelation and instruction, and by conscientious participation in a Christian community.

One of the characters in James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as Young Man leaves Ireland "to forge in the smithy of his soul" a conscience. It's not easy to forge a conscience of peace in a society and culture that glorifies war. A robust Christian conscience depends to some extent on the Church as a community of memory, but it also depends on what we choose to remember. Few of us, for example, can forget the morning of September 11, 2001, when nineteen men turned four commercial aeroplanes filled with passengers into weapons of terror and destruction. We remember the horrid deaths of some 3,000 people.

A Christian community of memory, however, also remembers the three to four thousand Afghan civilians killed in the first ten months of the ensuing war in Afghanistan. A community of memory also remembers the more than two thousand soldiers killed in Iraq in the first twenty-two months of that war. A community of memory also remembers the almost twenty-five thousand civilians who have died since the Iraq war began. (Numbers cited according to the UK-based Iraq Body Count Group, cited in The Wall Street Journal, August 5, 2005)

A Christian community of memory should not have a selective memory. It might be good, for example, to let our consciences be informed by another September 11, this one in 1906, when a non-violent alternative was born in a people's fight against injustice in South Africa's Transvaal territory. The government there had given notice of new legislation requiring all Indians, Arabs and Turks to register with the government. Many people felt that they could not, in good conscience, cooperate with the legislation. Over three thousand people attended a meeting to that end. An Indian lawyer named Mohandas Gandhi was at the meeting, and on that day — September 11, 1906 — the nonviolent movement was born, a movement that went on to free 300 million people from the power of the British Empire. (Chaiwat Satha-Anand, "Remembering the nonviolent 9/11," The Mennonite, September 5, 2006)

Another way to remember the fates of those who have fallen victim to violence and war is to refuse to be led by the desperate belief that the world has no choice but to sink deeper and deeper into violence in order to put an end to violence. A community of memory refuses to believe the myth of redemptive violence, the misguided belief that violence makes things turn out right, that war brings peace, and that might makes right.

The biblical vision that colours the Christian conscience is the hope that nations will no longer lift up the sword against other nations, that weapons will be transformed into agricultural tools, and that interest in learning the techniques of war will fall on hard times. (Isaiah 2) On a Sunday in which we remember stories of those who could not, in good Christian conscience, go to war, it behooves us to assess our own conscience and to ask ourselves how we might be conscientious in our time. May the Spirit of Christ guide us in so doing.