23 February 2026

The Crisis, the Conscience, and the Consecrations

Mr Hall looks at the modern tendency to see an appeal to conscience as a noble thing in all cases because the individual conscience has taken the place of the moral law.


From Crisis

 By Kennedy Hall

Much like St. Thomas More's refusal to swear an oath to a legitimate authority, today's Church crisis likewise calls for fidelity to the Faith when faced with conflicting human laws.

Not long before he was martyred, St. Thomas More wrote a series of letters to his daughters. In those letters, which have been compiled into a work called A Dialogue on Conscience, we find his daughter Margaret attempting to persuade him to swear the oath that would save his life, which he did not do, of course. We also find More’s insistence on the primacy of the conscience and why it would be impossible for him to swear the oath.

Many casual observers have misunderstood More’s life and believe that he would not consent to the king’s desire to have a divorce, but this is untrue. Henry VIII sought an annulment from Catherine of Aragon, not a divorce. His argument was that the marriage had never been valid to begin with, primarily on the grounds that Catherine had previously been married to his brother Arthur and that Leviticus 20:21 prohibits a man from marrying his brother’s wife. Henry’s position was that the papal dispensation granted by Julius II to allow the marriage was itself invalid, meaning he and Catherine had never truly been married in the eyes of God.

Thomas More’s situation was more nuanced than simply refusing to agree to facts supporting the annulment. More actually maintained a studied silence on the matter for a long time—he never publicly opposed the annulment or the King’s supremacy; he simply refused to affirm them. His silence was itself a legal and moral strategy rooted in the principle that silence cannot be construed as consent to treason.

Ultimately, More would not publicly consent to or approve of both the king’s annulment and his claim to supremacy as the head of the English Church. Throughout the dialogue with his daughter, her main argument was that More would have every right to publicly consent to the desires of the king, given the fact that so many learned men, including prelates he respected, did, in fact, consent. For More, it was not that he believed he alone knew the truth, but rather that given the facts that he did know, and the cogitation that he did do on the matter, he was compelled by his conscience to stand firm.

He said to his daughter, 

I can in no way do it [change his mind on the matter], and since for the instruction of my conscience I have not looked into this matter lightly, but have for many years given it serious study and consideration, and never yet have been able to see or hear anything, nor think I ever will, that would induce my own mind to think otherwise than I do, I have no way out of the bind that God has me in: that I must either mortally displease him or else endure whatever worldly harm…

At another point in the dialogue, he describes the notion that if he swore against his conscience, it would offend God “blasphemously.”

Now, for many Catholics today, the word “conscience” is almost a dirty word. What I mean is that it has been used wrongly by liberals and Protestants to justify sin and heresy. I recall one time that I sat in a meeting with the former vicar of my diocese and the head of religious education for the diocese, who were telling me that one could contracept in marriage as long as it was done “in good conscience.” Furthermore, Protestants justify the treasonous behavior of men like Martin Luther as being acts of conscience by supposedly courageous men who would not bend their knees to “tyrants.”

We might think of Pinocchio, who is told, “Let your conscience be your guide.”

In our modern world, an appeal to conscience is often misconstrued as a noble thing in all cases because the individual conscience has taken the place of the moral law. This is regrettable, and it is a bastardization of the proper understanding of conscience.

More describes an act against his conscience as “blasphemous,” which would imply it as an offense against the Divine Majesty. Why?

Well, in the proper understanding of the term, the conscience is the human capacity to use the faculties found in the rational soul to make moral decisions. And, since being made in the image and likeness of God is a description of our rational soul, More correctly observes that to deny the conscience as such and to go against it is to deny the use of the rational soul, the Imago Dei, in the soul. This is why it is an act of blasphemy: because it is an offense against the divine spark that makes us human.

Now, this does not mean that in all cases we should follow what we subjectively believe to be right, because the conscience is not a “get out of sin free card.” This is because for something to be truly a matter of conscience, it must be the case that by following your conscience you are not sinning, which is to say going against God’s commandments either directly or indirectly.

In More’s case, he did not believe the men who believed differently from him would be sinning but that he would be sinning if he sided with them. To illustrate this point to his daughter he relayed a story wherein he depicted a situation in which a man must decide differently than his confreres on a matter in dispute: “But, now, when we depart and come before God, and he sends you to heaven for doing according to your conscience, and me to the devil for doing against mine going along…”

Presently, during the crisis in the Church, which is a real crisis despite what some commentators have said, we will all at some point find ourselves in a situation wherein the facts that present themselves to us cause an internal struggle between which commands we are to follow in cases where there is a contradiction.

For example, if I may use my personal situation, this crisis is very real, and it is a matter of conscience. If I want my children to be confirmed, which I surely do—I must decide between having them confirmed by an SSPX bishop, a diocesan priest or bishop, or drive about seven hours to Ottawa or three hours and across the border to Detroit to have them confirmed in the Traditional Rite. If I choose the diocesan option, they will be required to attend classes taught by laypeople, and they will probably watch Alpha or some other Protestant thing, and they will surely be taught heresy. 

Furthermore, the ceremony will make a mockery of true Catholic piety. The prospect of travelling a great distance will also be financially burdensome, among other things. So, in my case, and the case of many others, the choice I have to make, in good conscience, is to have my children confirmed by an SSPX bishop. 

Now, you may disagree because, upon weighing the options, you decide that the canonical confusion of the matter precludes you from making the same decision. That is fair. However, in my position—and based on years of consideration, prayer, and reading—for the sake of my children’s souls, I cannot sacrifice the integrity of the transmission of faith and the dignity of the liturgy. 

Again, you may think that is extreme and say, “Isn’t obedience to your local bishop a matter of faith?” Well, it is true that we have bishops by divine constitution, and an Ordinary has the prerogative to govern his territory, and I do not dispute this in the slightest. However, when we assess the perennial understanding of what it means to be part of the Church and to be in communion with the hierarchy and the faithful, we must hold the integrity of the Faith in the highest position.

When St. Thomas Aquinas discusses Christ as the Head of the Church in his Summa (IIIa, Q.8, a. 3 ad 2m), he explains that the Church’s unity is fundamentally unity with Christ—the unity of His Mystical Body—and this comes through sanctifying grace: faith, hope, and charity in this life and glory in the next.

St. Robert Bellarmine, another Doctor of the Church, provides what might seem like a different perspective in his masterwork on ecclesiology. He defines the Church this way:

There is only one Church, not two, and this one and true Church is the congregation of men bound together by the profession of the same Christian faith, and the communion to the same Sacraments, under the government of the legitimate shepherds, and chiefly of the one vicar of Christ on earth, the Roman Pontiff. There are thus three parts to this definition: the profession of the true Faith, the sacramental communion and the submission to the legitimate shepherd, the Roman Pontiff.

But these two great saints and doctors aren’t contradicting each other—they’re complementing one another. Because man is body and soul, the Church has both an interior and exterior dimension of unity. And just as the soul unites the body rather than vice versa, the interior unity is more fundamental and actually causes the exterior unity. This interior unity is the very life of souls, as Scripture tells us: “Christ dwelling by faith in your hearts; being rooted and founded in charity” (Ephesians 3:17).

And again: “Christ liveth in me…I live in the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and delivered himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).

Since charity toward God naturally extends to our neighbor, our bond of unity with Christ reaches out to all members of His Mystical Body.

The connection between these interior and exterior dimensions is organic and natural: faith (interior) naturally expresses itself in the profession of faith (exterior). When we truly believe, we speak what we believe, as St. Paul says: “I believed, for which cause I have spoken; we also believe, for which cause we speak also” (2 Corinthians 4:13).

Hope (interior) leads us to prayer, worship, and receiving the sacraments (exterior)—all the means we need to reach Heaven. Charity (interior) leads to obedience (exterior) because, as our Lord said, “If you love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15). “He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them; he it is that loveth me” (John 14:21).

Love for Christ naturally leads to obedience toward those He has appointed to govern His people. But—and this is crucial—this obedience must always remain faithful to Tradition, as St. John makes clear: “This is charity, that we walk according to his commandments. For this is the commandment, that, as you have heard from the beginning, you should walk in the same” (2 John 1:6). “For you, let that which you have heard from the beginning, abide in you. If that abide in you, which you have heard from the beginning, you also shall abide in the Son, and in the Father” (1 John 2:24).

Notice that faith holds the first place. It’s the foundational interior bond, and the profession of the one true Faith is the first exterior bond. The pope’s (and by extension, the bishops’) role as the center of Church unity flows precisely from Christ’s command that he confirm his brethren in the Faith. Faith is not a secondary consideration that can be set aside.

Now, the Society faces the prospect of consecrating bishops in a manner that will be, by the letter of the law, illegal. No one denies this. However, the leadership of the Society believes that the law does not bind in this case for reasons similar to my personal situation—but on a global scale. Their rationale is that souls will suffer without orthodox, traditional clerics and bishops who can transmit the integral Catholic Faith to them, which is the primary role and purpose of the hierarchy. We needn’t have this debate here, but I believe we can all understand their rationale, even if it is disagreeable to some.

What we have in this case is a crisis of conscience wherein strict obedience to a code of law—which is morally good, all things being equal—is juxtaposed with obedience (adherence) to the fullness of the Catholic Faith as understood for almost 2,000 years before the New Advent of the New Springtime in the Church. Simply put, it is a decision that has to be made between obedience to a code of human law (Canon Law is a code of human law) and obedience in conscience to God’s commandments to do everything possible to save every soul seeking the sacraments. In this present case, there are millions of souls who cannot, in good conscience, based on the facts presented to them and their assessment thereof, approach the normal ministers in their dioceses and regions. So, this conflict between the letter of the law and the animating spirit of the law—the salvation of souls—is a crisis that each man must deal with, accepting whatever fallout may come.

Regarding the conflict between human law and God’s law, More states: 

Now, should it so happen that in some particular part of Christendom a law is made that is such that because of some part of it, some think that the law of God cannot bear it, and some others think yes…in such a case, those who think against the law neither may swear that the law was lawfully made, their consciences telling them the contrary, nor are bound under pain of God’s displeasure to change their own consciences on that matter.

He adds a distinction about what laws must always be followed: “This applies to any particular law made anywhere, other than by a general council of the Church or by a general faith grown by a universal working of God throughout all Christian nations.”

What is interesting is that in More’s case, he includes the laws of the Church, and the laws of civil society are of the same ilk, in the sense that human laws bind and oblige as far as human laws can bind and oblige; whereas laws of faith promulgated solemnly by the Church are of a different sort.

As it stands, the need to receive papal permission to consecrate is not a Divine Law, as the need for said permission is expressed in a legal formulation that has changed within the lifetime of many of the clerics still active in the Church today.

So, the Society’s decision, it would seem, is one based on a conviction in conscience to act in the right way, insofar as it is possible to act rightly in this chaotic period, for the salvation of souls. As Don Pagliarani said in his response to Cardinal Fernandez: “This disagreement, for the Society’s part, does not stem from a mere difference of opinion, but from a genuine case of conscience, arising from what has proven to be a rupture with the Tradition of the Church.”

Other good men will have different opinions, but I believe it would be difficult, if not impossible, to prove that they have not done right by a properly formed conscience given all that can be known, all that can be considered, and all that can be expected given the liturgical and doctrinal tragedy of this post-conciliar period, which does not seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

As John Senior wrote in the immediate aftermath of the 1988 consecrations performed by Archbishop Lefebvre:

I invoke the sweet but sharp spirit of St. Thomas More who rebuked his beloved King (and murderer) to his face and bid him “God-be-with-you” on the scaffold. It is possible that men of good will and even saints will sit on either side of this dispute, perhaps for decades—for all we know, to the end of the world. Meanwhile, “the wisdom of the just,” says St. Gregory, “is not to practice dissimulation, but to speak what is in one’s heart, to love the truth as it is.”

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