Newmania 14: The self-wise inquirer
When Newman was at Oxford, he fell under the influence of Richard Whately, later Archbishop of Dublin. In his Apologia, he refers to those years as ones in which “I was beginning to prefer intellectual excellence to moral. I was drifting in the direction of the Liberalism of the day.” By the late 1820′s he had begun to move away from Whately’s views, and I wonder whether the 1830 sermon “The Self-wise Inquirer” may not contain some sentences of self-description. E.g.,
But when that gift of reason is something especial,—clear, brilliant, or powerful,—then our danger is increased. The first sin of men of superior understanding is to value themselves upon it, and look down upon others. They make intellect the measure of praise and blame; and instead of considering a common faith to be the bond of union between Christian and Christian, they dream of some other fellowship of civilization, refinement, literature, science, or general mental illumination, to unite gifted minds one with another. Having thus cast down moral excellence from its true station, and set up the usurping empire of mere reason, next, they place a value upon all truths exactly in proportion to the possibility of proving them by means of that mere reason. Hence, moral and religious truths are thought little of by them, because they fall under the province of Conscience far more than of the intellect. Religion sinks in their estimation, or becomes of no account; they begin to think all religions alike; and no wonder, for they are like men who have lost the faculty of discerning colours, and who never, by any exercise of reason, can make out the difference between white and black. As to the code of morals, they acknowledge it in a measure, that is, so far as its dicta can be proved by reasoning, by an appeal to sight, and to expedience, and without reference to a natural sense of right and wrong as the sanction of these informants. Thinking much of intellectual advancement, they are much bent on improving the world by making all men intellectual; and they labour to convince themselves, that as men grow in knowledge they will grow in virtue.
As they proceed in their course of judicial blindness, from undervaluing they learn to despise or to hate the authority of Conscience. They treat it as a weakness, to which all men indeed are subject,—they themselves in the number,—especially in seasons of sickness, but of which they have cause to be ashamed. The notions of better men about an overruling Providence, and the Divine will, designs, appointments, works, judgments, they treat with scorn, as irrational; especially if (as will often be the case) these notions are conveyed in incorrect language, with some accidental confusion or intellectual weakness of expression.
The fault to which Newman points is all the more serious because it questions the very truths that conscience, the first teacher of religion, discloses:
These are the notions which we may trust without blame; viz. such as come to us by way of our Conscience, for such come from God. I mean our certainty that there is a right and a wrong, that some things ought to be done, and other things not done; that we have duties, the neglect of which brings remorse; and further, that God is good, wise, powerful, and righteous, and that we should try to obey Him. All these notions, and a multitude of others like these, come by natural conscience, i.e. they are impressed on all our minds from our earliest years without our trouble. They do not proceed from the mere exercise of our minds, though it {217} is true they are strengthened and formed thereby. They proceed from God, whether within us or without us; and though we cannot trust them so implicitly as we can trust the Bible, because the truths of the Bible are actually preserved in writing, and so cannot be lost or altered, still, as far as we have reason to think them true, we may rely in them, and make much of them, without incurring the sin of self-confidence. These notions which we obtain without our exertion will never make us proud or conceited, because they are ever attended with a sense of sin and guilt, from the remembrance that we have at times transgressed and injured them. To trust them is not the false wisdom of the world, or foolishness, because they come from the All-wise God. And far from leading a man into error, they will, if obeyed, of a certainty lead him to a firm belief in Scripture; in which he will find all those vague conjectures and imperfect notions about truth, which his own heart taught him, abundantly sanctioned, completed, and illustrated.
The sermon ends with a lovely exhortation:
May we ever bear in mind, that the “fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom;” [Prov. i. 7.] that obedience to our conscience, in all things, great and small, is the way to know the Truth; that pride hardens the heart, and sensuality debases it; and that all those who live in pride and sensual indulgence, can no more comprehend the way of the Holy Spirit, or know the voice of Christ, than the devils who believe with a dead faith and tremble!
“They proceed from God, whether within us or without us;”
What does Newman mean by proceeding from “within us”?
And what does he have in mind here:
“and though we cannot trust them [the basic principles of conscience] so implicitly as we can trust the Bible, because the truths of the Bible are actually preserved in writing, and so cannot be lost or altered, still, as far as we have reason to think them true, we may rely in them, and make much of them, without incurring the sin of self-confidence. ”
I don’t see how he justifies “. . . our certainty that there is a right and a wrong, . . . “. What makes us certain? What sort of evidence? It seems to come from God, but that borders on private revelation to me.
He says we can trust the Bible, whose truths “cannot be lost or altered” because they are in writing. This makes it sound like he believes in literal interpretation of Scripture. Or what does he have in mind here (besides saying the the Bible takes precedence over principles of conscience).
Ann: By “within us” I think Newman means by religious experience or from conscience or by inferences from either.
Newman is not alone in thinking that there are some native notions of right and wrong, e.g., the first principles of the moral order. Aquinas called natural law the impress of the divine light within us, and Newman worked out a proof for the existence of God from conscience. It’s not a matter of private revelation.
I don’t see the implication you see in what he says about the Bible differing from what conscience teaches us because it is set down in writing. There is an “objectivity” to those black marks on white paper; that is, they sit there in front of us and can’t be wiped away as the deliverances of conscience can be by habitual neglect of them.
Perhaps tangentially, these remarks of Newman’s reminded me of Yves Congar’s comment that if the spiritual history of Vatican II could be written it would have to give great prominence to the role played by people like his own mother who prayed so ardently for its success.
Also, recently on the “America” blogsite, Fr. Francis X. Clooney observed that theological reflection figured in a major way perhaps in the lives of 1 % of Catholics. The other 99% focused on the daily practice of their faith by way participating in the Mass, private prayer, doing good works, etc. Important though the intellectual dimension of Catholicism is, what is decisive at the end of the day ins how we live it. That’s a lesson people like me have to hear over and over.
AMEN, Bernard!
Yes, it is more important to do what is good than to think what is good. But making a dichotomy between thought and heart is quite dangerous to getting good done. Consider Rev. Terry Jones who undoubtedly “feels’ that it is good to burn Korans. Asked by the NYT if he had ever read the Koran he said No.
To do what is good we must *know* what is good, what is truly good, and not just know something we have positive feelings about. Heart alone can lead to evil as well as good.
I grant you that some feelings do seem to reveal what is evil — e.g., torture. And feelings sometimes reveal what is good in itself. But not every possible good *ought* to be done. For instance, a man must not give his whole paycheck to a poor man if his children will go hungry because of it. Conscience (*thinking* about what ought to be done or not dne) must consider critically what we want to do or not do — we must think about it and its consequences.
First we must know what is good, then intend it as goal, then choose to do it, then do it. To leave out thinking can be disastrous, or at best it *might* involve *choosing* good *accidentally*. Sure, the thing done or made *might* be good — but then again it *might not*.
Are there some “moral feelings/sentiments” that we can trust, as some, e.g. some Romantics, maintain? Well, if there are I have yet to hear anybody propose any criteria for distinguishing between them and non-moral feelings/sentiments.
This part of Newman is just too simple. Maybe he had been reading too much Wordsworth.
I don’t think Newman thought of conscience as a feeling, and he certainly didn’t counterpose it to thinking. To reason, in a constricted sense, yes, but not to thinking. But, as I understand it, the first principle of the moral order–”The good is to be done, and evil avoided”–is not the result of thinking about moral issues, but the principle on the basis of which the moral order is constructed. And it is neither a feeling nor the result of a syllogism.
In any case, the theme of conscience in Newman is very complex; whole books have been devoted to it.
JAK –
ISTM that these days conscience is a very big problem for many if not most of the laity. Is there a book or two about Newman’s theory of conscience you might recommend? I dare say that if the next pope is a bit more open-minded to discussion the topic will become a hot one.
JAK –
As I understand Thomas the ultimate foundation of natural law is “do good and avoid evil”. It is simply a given, and as I understand him the principle is somehow from God. It’s a command, not a statement. As far as I know none of the medievals who agreed with him tried to justify it philosophically. It’s sort of an a priori directive.
But in what sense can it be an priori even if it is cast as the statement “You ought to do what is good and avoid what is evil”. Sounds a lot like Kant to me, and he doesn’t convince me because it really just says “You ought to do what you ought to do” and tells us nothing about *what* we ought to do. Fortunately, there is more to Thomas’ ethics than this.
I wonder whether Newman was more influenced by Scotus, who did not base his natural law theory on “do good and avoid evil” as the fundamental principle. And, of course, Scotus saw the will as superior to the intellect, so would lean to some sort of affective foundation for morality For Scotus the basic principle was “God ought to be loved” or more precisely “God ought not to be hated”, and w hat is good for us to do is what is in harmony with loving God, what is consistent with loving God. For Scotus there was no intrinsic right or wrong actions, and so God could grant exceptions to the general rules.
But again, I think there’s a problem — how do we know what it is to love or to not hate God in every case? The theory seems ultimately to be an empty one. The Aristotelian criterion (what fulfills human nature) does give positive content and hence some guidance, I think.
(I’ve always found ethics so messy I never really got into it.)