86. St. Thomas More: The Two Rocks at the Harbor

“His truth shall compass thee with a shield: thou shalt not be afraid of the terror of the night.” — Psalm 90:5

There is a fear that makes a soul turn from sin to God. There is another that follows the soul even after it has turned. It whispers that a prayer was spoiled by a wandering thought, that a sin honestly confessed was not forgiven, that God is angry when no commandment has been broken. A person can begin again, and again, and still be unable to rest in what God has actually said.

St. Thomas More knew this trouble. In Book II of A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation, Anthony speaks of a scrupulous conscience as one form of the night's fear. He pictures a diligent servant who is loved by her mistress but cannot believe it. She works hard and lives in dread of a rebuke the mistress has not given. More is not laughing at a sufferer. He is showing how a false judgment about the master's heart can make even faithful service miserable.^1

The Catholic in exile may be especially vulnerable. There may be fewer trustworthy people to ask, fewer opportunities for sacramental counsel, and many disputed claims pressing upon the conscience. It is right to want the true Faith and true worship; that desire must not be dismissed as “scrupulous.” But anxiety can attach itself to that holy desire. A soul may then begin to judge by the force of its fear rather than by the doctrine and law it is trying to obey.

More describes a person who treats what is no sin as a fault, and a venial fault as mortal; who doubts whether confession or contrition was ever sufficient; who repeats a prayer because each attempt feels defective. The suffering is real. So is the danger of allowing an imagined obligation to replace the one God has given.^1

This does not mean that mortal sin is imaginary, that confession may be neglected, or that a well-formed conscience should be ignored. It means that feeling accused is not itself proof of guilt. The conscience must be formed by truth. A vague dread does not create a new commandment; neither can repeated checking make an uncertain memory certain by sheer force of will.

More's answer is not to tell the troubled person simply to “relax.” He tells him to place his judgment, for a time, under the counsel of someone learned and virtuous—especially, where it is truly available, in the sacrament of confession. He compares this to a physician who, when seriously ill himself, calls on another physician. A frightened person may see danger in every sign; a capable guide can help him judge what is there.^1

In our circumstances, that counsel requires care. Do not give authority over your conscience to any voice merely because it sounds certain, nor treat an online dispute as a confessor. Seek guidance faithful to the perennial Catholic teaching and, where possible, a trustworthy priest who can truly administer the sacrament. Where such help is temporarily absent, do not invent a private tribunal that condemns you afresh each morning. Hold to what is certain, continue the duties you know, pray for light, and seek the help you lack.

More is equally alert to the opposite danger. He tells a comic fable remembered from childhood: a timid ass is afraid that eating a straw meant for another creature might violate his penance, while a wolf reasons his way into eating a cow and calf without a qualm. The wolf's conscience expands or contracts according to what he wants. The ass needs correction; the wolf needs conversion.^1

The tale keeps this chapter from becoming an excuse for carelessness. A false scruple burdens an innocent act. A lax conscience calls an unlawful act harmless. Both fail to judge by the rule outside the self. One measures duty by dread; the other by appetite. Neither is the peace Christ gives.

For a Catholic searching for the true Church, the second rock may look especially plausible. Surely this one contradiction can be set aside. Surely this worship will do, because the alternative is lonely. Surely the error cannot matter if the people are kind. More's wolf does not announce that he hates the law. He praises the law while adjusting its meaning until it permits the meal he has chosen. We should fear that ingenuity in ourselves before we accuse it in anyone else.

But the first rock remains real too. A person can become so afraid of error that he treats every unanswered question as evidence of apostasy, every imperfect prayer as sacrilege, and every faithful neighbor as suspect. That is not a surer hatred of heresy. It may be a failure to distinguish revealed truth from one's own alarm.

More likens the troubled conscience to a ship approaching a harbor with hidden rocks on both sides. The pilot must steer away from one danger without driving the ship into the other.^1 That is more demanding than a slogan. The aim is neither a wide conscience that excuses sin nor a narrow one that invents it. The aim is a true conscience: formed by the Faith, humble enough to receive sound counsel, firm enough to obey, and quiet enough to trust God's mercy when obedience has been given.

There is an order to follow. First ask what God has actually commanded and what the Church has actually taught. Distinguish a clear obligation from a fear about what might be an obligation. Do not bend the clear rule to keep a desired comfort. Do not add a new rule because fear asks for one. Where a matter is genuinely difficult, seek competent counsel rather than selecting the harshest or easiest opinion by yourself.

The same order belongs in a home. A father and mother must teach children to name sin plainly and to confess it honestly. They must not train them to imagine that God is a capricious examiner waiting for an unnoticed defect. Nor should they promise that sincerity makes disobedience safe. A child should learn both the gravity of the truth and the goodness of the Father who gave it.

Anthony tells the troubled soul to remember God's mercy and to continue praying for grace. He does not set mercy against truth. It is God's truth, in the Psalm he cites, that surrounds the soul like a shield against the terror of the night.^1 The comfort is not, Nothing is sinful. Nor is it, You must be certain that you have performed every duty perfectly before God can love you. It is that the God who forbids sin also calls the sinner to repentance, gives grace, and does not deceive the soul seeking Him.

If you know you have sinned, do not negotiate with the sin. Repent and seek absolution where it can truly be had. If you have been guided soundly and have no new evidence of a fault, do not reopen the case merely because the old feeling returns. If you do not yet know how to judge, ask for light and help. In all three conditions, refuse the devil's wish that fear should turn you away from God.

More's little ship seeks a harbor, not an endless voyage among rocks. The Catholic soul likewise seeks the Mother's home: true doctrine, true worship, the sacraments, and peace under Christ's rule. The way in is neither presumption nor panic. It is truth received with humility, obeyed with courage, and trusted as the gift of a merciful Lord.

Sources and notes

1. St. Thomas More, A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation, Book II, chapter XIV. The servant, the ass and wolf, the harbor pilot, and the advice to seek a learned and virtuous guide are More's images and counsel. The applications to the site's present questions are this chapter's own.
2. Psalm 90:5; Psalm 102:13–14; Luke 15:11–24. The Scriptural references are offered for meditation on God's truth and fatherly mercy, not as a substitute for More's specific account of scrupulosity.