In Part II, we discuss the problems unique to Tradition and "traditionalism" and the fine lines involved. 

 

Here, in Part III, we discuss circumstances when legitimate authority poses a crisis of conscience where we are uncertain as to what something means (or, could possibly mean) even prior to being called to submit ourselves to it. 

 

[Here, we can anticipate the "worst nightmares" of spiritual abuse that motivate people to approach the Gospel on their own terms as discussed in Part I or to find a fortified bunker in an idealized past when things were more "proper".  And on both accounts, the anxiety is real: Could you imagine forcing yourself to assent to something you know is false?  How could you be forced to overthrow your own conscience and act in bad faith? As we shall see, however, this is a misconception, largely because it does not reflect the conditions of filial obedience to the Magisterium or the Church's teaching authority as elaborated in Part II.  As we shall see in Part III, a good part of the distinction operates on the epistemic virtue of "good faith" and what that involves.  For this reason, Part III is focused on virtue epistemology and its relationship to the conscience.  It is not enough to know the contents of the Faith (or the "whatness" of Faith)--- either through Scripture or Tradition--- but to know how one should respond to God in fixating our hope in Him and growing in charity chiefly by discerning the "why" and the "how" of God's revelation to us personally and to the Church in general.]

 

Such anxieties are real and I do not wish to dismiss them, but what operates at the root of this problem, however, more often in practice than theory is either the deficiency of Hope (in the Promises of Christ) or a want of filial Obedience (to the institutional Church).  Both problems are amended when the Hope applied ultimately to Christ Himself as promised in the Gospel tempers the rages of the near-term, especially in public venues or channels, through a kind of humble obedience in the form of epistemic charity towards one's superiors (that exceeds that given to your own self)!   Remember, to show deference in this respect is carried vicariously to Christ Himself (and that the superior in question will be judged according to how JESUS CHRIST understands the entire truth in accordance with their hearts.).

 

That is all well and good in the end.  But what about the near term where demands are still placed on us? 

Admittedly, this is where the situation grows more complicated.

 

Undeniably, there is an ethical component to the epistemology of both doctrinal development (public fact) and discernment (private fact) as we approach both with good will and what that all involves.  Often times, without taking stock of our motives, there is generally a lesson in epistemic humility involved in our approach to God's Will.  Here, in this Part III, I examine how both the development of doctrine in the life of the Church and the discernment of spirits within our examination of conscience can inform one another (since development necessarily interfaces with the consciences of both prelates and the Holy Father).  Even so, the two also interface within the believer, but upon what pattern do we follow?  Here, we can take stock in the lives of the saints where inspiration can be supplied in the face of epistemic anxiety, conflicts of interest, and questionable moral leadership that they themselves also endured.

 

The truth of the matter is that these anxieties, while understandable in the near term, are unwarranted in the end, and that this insight is our greatest tool when handling disappointment or despair in our elders (both of our natural and spiritual fathers!).  We must attend to the end of our deeper commitments rather than preoccupy ourselves too readily in the lacunae of this or that controversy which can usurp our Hope and encourage disobedience to our own peril.

 

If on the verge of scandal even, focus instead on your own virtue in the face of such temptations to prioritize your own understanding and suspicions (as far as you understand them to be suspicions).  And yes, that is exactly what they are in fact; temptation is precisely the right framework here when speaking quite nonsensically of a "Battle of Magisteria", "Competing Popes", "Competing Liturgies" and the like; for, regarding the height of religious authority, there are many spiritual temptations that defy mentioning that don't tightly fall into ready at hand categories like "schism" or "heresy".  There are many other spiritual vices of a far more conventional and commonplace sort that we would do best to avoid if we wish to grow in virtue.

 

In this final section of the blog's heart, I explore epistemic virtues and vices as they relate to religious assent.  Above all, I want to pull from the lives of those "white martyrs" (those who did not suffer death, but who suffered in life) who were persecuted immensely at the hands of their superiors and whose model of humility and obedience would stupefy the modern world.  This stupefaction is in fact healthy at a time when everybody thinks they know best simply because they have the Internet and now A.I. at their fingertips (as if information was equivalent to wisdom!).  No, it is a good corrective for overconfident types with loaded opinions, an inability to learn, and perhaps an excessive devotion to this or that theological hobbyhorse opinion that they often turn into a cudgel against their supposed enemies.

 

Let us get back to the contemplation and living out of virtue above all else.  And if you honestly do feel that an impasse has been reached, then there is an epistemically wholesome way to approach your superior in filial obedience to ask them to clarify your confusions.  Did not John the Baptist speak up to Jesus in honest shock saying, "I ought to be baptized by Thee, and comest Thou to me?" (Matthew 3:14).   Was he speaking out of line?  Was he playing the part of Moses at Meribah who struck the rock not once but twice against God's commands (Numbers 20: 1-13)?  No, Christ acknowledged the truth to John's words but still thought it proper to "suffer" the apparent indiscretion.  What grace is shown between two cousins?  And two providential figures?  One a moral giant, the first monk in some respects, and "prince of the prophets" (second to no other mortal save for St. Joseph perhaps), while the other was the Son of God Himself!

There are many such cases in Holy Scripture where the disciples themselves speak up to God Incarnate because they are confused about His instructions. 

The difference between them and us? 

 

They did so out of love. 

 

We do so for other reasons.