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PAGE 5—January 23, 1975
Understanding Conscience-Stages of Conscience
BY WILLIAM E. MAY
Our growth as moral beings, as conscientious
agents of activity, is just that: It is a growth, a
developmental process. When we were little
children we did not have the ability to make
true moral judgments-judgments of conscience.
But we were equipped to learn, for we had the
wonderful and God-given gift of intelligence, of
the ability to think about our experiences and
thus to get to an understanding of them and of
ourselves.
Moreover, in the development ot our own
personal conscience, of our own personal
ability to make conscientious judgments about
what we ought and ought not to do, we were
not left on our own. We did not have to start
from scratch. For we were bom into a world
“mediated by meaning,” that is, into a world
where other human beings lived and were the
heirs to a rich tradition of human experience
and thinking. We began to learn the difference
between right and wrong from our parents and
friends, by listening to what they had to tell us
and by thinking of the experiences we shared
with them.
The “world mediated by meaning” that we
inherited included a world of moral meaning,
for from our parents and teachers and from our
Church we learned that some things are “right”
and others are “wrong.” We were heirs, in
short, to a universe of moral values, and
initially we accepted these as we accepted other
things that we were taught by our elders. We
valued certain things, such as friendship and
truth-telling, chastity and honesty, chiefly
because these were the things that our parents
and neighbors and Church valued.
Our own identity was bound up with the
identity of our parents and neighbors and
Church; we found ourselves at “home” with
them, and we treasured the same things they
treasured and experienced anxiety and fear
when their values were challenged or denied.
That is pretty much the way most of us grew
up. The moral judgments that we made, our
own conscientious judgments about the “right”
and the “wrong” were to a great extent
DERIVED judgments; we took them over from
our parents and friends and Church.
We were, in short, introduced to a universe
of moral values by others, and their values
became our own. Our morality at this time of
our lives has been described by many
developmental psychologists, among them the
noted Lawrence Kohlberg, as a “conventional”
morality. We had passed through a more
infantile period when our judgments were the
hedonistic and self-serving judgments of little
children who saw “right” and “wrong” pretty
much in terms of the punishment of pleasure
that came about as a result of our deeds (a
spanking or a kiss) into a period when our
moral judgments were pretty much prefigured
by the societies in which we lived, for we
wanted to be “good boys” and “nice girls” and
we wanted, perhaps more than anything else, to
be accepted by the socities in which we lived.
As we grew older, we were able, in the light
of our own experiences and of our expanding
ability to think for ourselves and to ask critical
questions, to wonder about the values we had
been taught. Perhaps these values were really
valuable, and perhaps the things we had been
taught that we ought not to do were really
things that we ought not to do, but we had to
know why. We were then entering a period of
moral development that men like Kohlberg call
“in principled” or “post conventional”
morality, a period when our own conscientious
judgments about the rightness or wrongness of
our deeds really reflected our own personal
evaluation, a period when we come to value
some things and to disvalue others not because
the societies in which we live (including the
Church) value or disvalue them, but because we
are able to see for ourselves that they really are
valuable or disvaluable.
And what has our life as Christians, as living
members of the body of Christ and people of
God, to do with all this? I submit that it has a
tremendous role to play. We all know that the
Church teaches us about matters moral, that
the Church proclaims that there are some things
that we, as human beings, ought not to do. The
fact that the Church teaches that something is
wrong or right does not make it to be wrong or
right. That would be absurd. But as Christians
we believe that the Church is the bearer of
God’s saving word to men, and that as the
bearer of this word the Church has something
true to tell us about ourselves and our lives.
The authority of the Church on questions
touching the meaning of our existence as
humans, that is, on questions of our moral life,
is an authority that surpasses the authority of
any other teacher. Thus we have a connatural
eagerness to embrace its moral teachings, for we
are aware of our own limitations and are
initially inclined to believe that if the Church
teaches us that something is right or wrong it
REALLY is right or wrong, and that if we look
hard enough and open our minds to all the
questions that can be asked, we will discover
that the Church’s teaching is well founded and
can be supported by cogent evidence and
arguments.
Still, as conscientious and personal beings,
we have the right and obligation to make our
own conscientious judgments. No one can make
them for us, for they are our own and express
our own personality and character, and reveal
us to ourselves and to our God, who is, as the
Fathers of Vatican II noted, alone with us in
the depths of our own conscience.
How Moral Am I?
BY GERARD A. POTTEBAUM
That’s a noble notion-following one’s
conscience. Trouble is, how? How does one
find a conscience to follow these days, when
everything is under question? It leaves you
wondering: How moral am I?
That’s the title of a helpful filmstrip package
distributed by W.H. Sadlier, Inc. (11 Park Place,
New York 10007). It reports on the results of
research in moral development conducted by
Harvard’s Lawrence Kohlberg, a developmental
psychologist, I’ll summarize here the six stages
of development which Kohlberg arrived at, but
with the hope that you’ll pursue further
information than there’s room for here. These
are not six new commandments, nor are they as
simple as they might seem. They will, however,
give you an idea why following one’s
conscience is a lifetime search for maturity.
Preconventional behavior:
Stage 1. Behavior governed by desire to avoid
physical punishment: defers to superior power.
Example: A child may not cheat in a game with
his big brother because of what his brother may
do to him if he’s caught. He does not avoid
cheating because he values honest behavior. The
stage-one person thinks it’s okay to cheat so
long as you don’t get caught.
Stage 2. Behavior governed by desire to
satisfy personal needs, or sometimes the needs
of others. Example: A person will share equally
with another person, but for his own sake. This
person will scratch your back if you’ll scratch
his, as is standard in business practice.
Conventional behavior:
Stage 3. Behavior governed by desire to
please others; seeks approval by being nice.
Example: This person conforms, as in
adolescent dress codes. Or, you may differ with
this person, and he’ll join your side because he
wants you to like him. This person finds his
good intention more important than his
competence.
Stage 4. Behavior governed by person’s desire
to do one’s duty, maintain the status quo.
Example: This person caters to existing
authority. He finds self-respect in fulfilling his
obligations. He respects others for their ability
to contribute to the system for its own sake;
the system may have flaws, but only because
everyone isn’t doing his duty. In church circles:
“Father says . ..” is reason enough.
Postconventional behavior:
Stage 5. Behavior governed by standards
which society has critically examined and
agreed to. Example: This person works within
the system, but for the sake of society, not the
system. He will work to change the system. He
understands that people hold a variety of values
and opinions. Aside from what the majority has
agreed upon, this person maintains that he can
differ, that rightness or wrongness is a matter of
personal opinion.
Stage 6. Behavior governed by abstract,
self-chosen ethical principles, in contrast to
concrete moral rules which spell out the details
of one’s behavior. Example: This person may
steal medicine to give to someone who would
die without it because he believes the value of
human life is greater than financial gain. This
person has become progressively disentangled
from property or social standing.
As you review these six stages, you can’t help
but wonder at what level you operate. As you
wonder, you need to keep these observations in
mind: Kohlberg points out that the person who
is capable of stage-six behavior may not operate
at that level in all of his actions. We operate at a
variety of levels, and at one particular level over
half of the time.
Also, a person passes from one stage to the
other sequentially. The passage may not take
long through certain stages, but the growth
does follow a sequence, just as the person
cannot become an adult without passing
through adolescence.
Finally, people tend to want to progress
toward a higher stage of maturity. They may
not always behave that way, but within the
person there is a desire to grow up, and we will,
given the opportunity.
As you examine your own background
against this series of stages, you can identify
stages one and two as those which dominated a
majority of Catholics’ religious education.
Remember the old “fire and brimstone”
missions? You also recall that until recently,
the church spelled out rather clearly what
behavior is acceptable or not. If you fulfilled
the obligations spelled out by the church, you
knew whether or not you were a good Catholic,
a moral person. If uncertainty arose in your
life, one could get fairly clear directions on
what to do. You can recognize in such activity
a moral behavior described by Kohlberg’s
research as typical of stages three and four.
Certainly it was below stage five, as church
members did not question the system. Nor was
this system described as constituting behavior
“critically examined and agreed upon by the
majority,” at least not by the majority of
church members. The acceptable behavior
patterns and practices were handed down
through hierachial channels.
It is little wonder that today with the
growing emphasis on freedom of conscience,
one is hard pressed to find a consqience to
follow. The church we grew up in never denied
freedom of conscience, but its emphasis called
for a different treatment than is demanded
today. No longer does the Church spell out in
detail what constitutes moral behavior. This
places on each person a burden of determining
what constitutes right action, a responsibility
which was absorbed by our former church
system.
In our search for a conscience to follow, we
can learn from research such as Kohlberg’s that
moral maturity doesn’t happen with the
dawning of the “age of reason.” We can’t use
reasoning appropriate for a level-six person in
explaining to a child, who thinks cheating is
okay so long as you don’t get caught, that
honest behavior his intrinsic value. Chances are,
he’s concerned about getting spanked.
We can also learn that waiting around for the
Church to tell us what’s right and wrong does
not help us to grow up. At the same time, we
learn that as we mature we need to be told
along the way what to do and what not to do.
We need to go through the experience of
fearing punishment, of maintaining a system
uncritically, and then of criticising that system.
We may even find ourselves confronting a
situation alone, at great personal sacrifice.
From what we know about the life of Jesus,
He went through the same experience. He had
to obey certain rules; He caught it for running
off to the temple without telling His mother
and Joseph. He confronted the system, and He
stood alone, at great personal sacrifice.
If you consider the teachings of Jesus from
the viewpoint of the six stages, you’ll find Jesus
speaks to all levels: for instance, He promised
an eternal reward for those who feed the
hungry, comfort the afflicted, and so forth. He
warned of eternal punishment for those who
did not care for others. One can translate that
as speaking at a rather basic self-interest level.
At the same time, Jesus describes the
conditions under which a person may follow
Him as a matter of giving up one’s life. That’s
asking a bit much. Nevertheless, we cannot help
but ask ourselves the question: Why do we
follow Jesus? For the sake of eternal reward?
Or because Jesus embodies a personal integrity
to which we aspire?
Somehow life never lets us pass too long
without making us wonder, “How moral am I?”
And no sooner do we have some reading on our
morality, when life confronts us with another
situation and we find ourselves asking, “What
do I do now?” It is this constant uncertainty
which keeps us alive, which makes us conscious,
that is, gives us conscience. And it is this
experience of life which provides us with the
opportunity to appreciate what Jesus reveals:
You can make a mistake, you can go wrong,
and you’re still loveable.
“THE WORLD MEDIATED by
meaning’ that we inherited included a
moral meaning, for from our parents
and teachers and from our Church we
learned that some things are ‘right’ and
others are ‘wrong.’ ” One of the “right”
things being learned by children in
Sacred Heart School, Robbinsdale,
Minn., is the value of prayer, even in a
classroom.
Plugging In
BY SISTER PAT MURPHY, O.L.V.M.
I can see it now. My name will be called and
I’ll take my place before God’s judgment
throne. I’ve done my share of wrong doing -
been irritable, angry, super-hurt and selfish.
Yes, I know I’ve had to count myself guilty in
one way or another for a good many sins. So, I
settle into my shoes and bow my head waiting
for the enumerations.
Here it comes. And God says: “Pat, why
didn’t you take time out that you knew you
needed for solitude and reflection?” That’s it?
No list divided into mortal and venial and
multiplied by tens and hundreds? When my
soul has uneasy butterflies and I’m confused by
the swirling mists of overchoice in living out my
moral response to the gospels -- I play this
“judgment game.” It sorts out essentials and
keeps me from slapping one or the other
sin-label on an issue and shipping it out of my
life.
It’s going to be a simple encounter between
God and me on that last day -- one that my soul
and I should have rehearsed many times. There
are degrees of sin, I know that - but the
encounter between my conscience and myself is
more fundamental than degrees and giving
specific names. The end product is still the
same - sin. And it goes by many names.
Irregardless, when we commit any kind of sin,
our action is the direct result of not tuning in,
often enough and honestly, to that inner
wave-length of the spirit.
As we examine an action, we can make
ourselves either right or wrong. We do this by a
standard outside ourselves (and who of us can’t
talk ourselves out of being actually, really,
truly, and completely in the wrong?). There is a
fine line between searching the depths of one’s
own soul and looking for logical excuses. An
honest search for truth leads to spiritual
growth; rationalizing so that we may find
justification in an action can easily free us from
walking intimately with ourselves in inner
search, and robs us of the lasting peace of
refined conviction. It is all too tempting to talk
ourselves into calling a particular action that is
questionable no-sin. But every time we do this,
we deaden the receptivity of our soul-antennae
- our conscience - just a little bit more. We can
finally cut it out altogether.
Freddie had such troubles. The whole world
was out to get him. He was miserable. Freddie is
a pretty well-to-do merchant in a film from
Know Your
Faith
(All Articles On This Page Copyrighted 1974 by N.C. News Service)
Insight, “Watts Made Out Of Thread.” The title
seems dated but the insides of the film are
decidedly true to present-day life. Freddie
wants to die - he’s even speeded up the process
by taking an overdose of sleeping pills. His life
has been one royal pain! But death will not
come easy. In fact, he keeps being interrupted
by his mother who reminds him how ungrateful
he has been all his life and how much she has
done for him. Taking his life is the height of
ingratitude.
Another unexpected visitor at the death bed
is a black man heralding himself with a blast
from a trumpet. He’s here, he says, to get a
refund on his suit before Freddie dies. Freddie
denies that he ever sold the man a suit, and that
if he did it was worth every cent. The black
visitor tells him that the interest compounded
on interest was cheating.
Freddie loudly denies that he has ever
cheated anyone in his life. He tries to change
the subject by asking who the intruder is.
“Man, I’m your conscience, I’m every man
you’ve ever cheated . . . now, my refund,” says
the trumpet player. Freddie groans, “I want to
die!” His visitor insists that he can’t die until he
hands over the refund. He can’t die until he
admits his guilt. “Not guilty!” yells Freddie.
“Then why are you trying to die?” asks the
visitor.
The trumpet player gradually wears down
Freddie’s defenses and slowly reveals himself as
THE LORD. Freddie becomes fearful now,
because if it is the Lord then he’s surely headed
for Hell. The Lord tells him he has been in Hell
most of his life - now, why doesn’t he just
admit his guilt and release himself.
“O.K., O.K. I’m guilty,” says Freddie.
“Look here,” says the Lord, “what do you
take me for? This is not some kangaroo court
where you sign your name and I’ve got to fill in
the blanks!”
Freddie, finally hearing the Lord’s words of
love, admits he has been sort of a heel. And the
admission brings him a certain peace, and a
willingness to face the consequences of his
wrongdoings.
Maybe Freddie should have played a few
“judgments games” long before he tried to
escape through death a life he never fully lived.
The Lord spent a long time peeling away the
layers of evasion Freddie had buffed his
conscience with. He insulated himself from his
conscience, declaring himself “right.” In
warding off the encounter between himself and
his conscience, he lost a friend and a freedom
that would have enriched his life.
“Watts Made out of Thread Insight,” Paulist
Productions, Pacific Coast Highway, Pacific
Palisades, California, 28 minutes. Color or black
and white.
“Finding Conscience To Follow” (filmstrip)
23rd Publications, West Mystic, Conn.
“Deciding Right From Wrong: The Dilemma
of Morality Today” Center for the Humanities,
2 Holland Ave., White Plains, New York 10603.
“How Moral Am I,” (two part filmstrip) The
Tree House Inc., P.O. Box 2243, Kettering,
Ohio 45429.
I
Moral
Development
BY BRO. MICHAEL WARREN, C.F.X.
Marie Shedlock never met Lawrence
Kohlberg, and it is a shame. They would have
been good for one another. Marie Shedlock was
a master story-teller who died in London in
1935. Lawrence Kohlberg meanwhile continues
his research on moral development at Harvard,
probably unaware of his loss. I have just
finished Marie’s book, “The Art of the
Storyteller,” and I find that it is filled with
intelligent advice to any, especially parents,
interested in laying a groundwork for future
moral development in children. The following
ideas particularly struck me.
1. MUCH MORAL EDUCATION CAN BE
UNDERTAKEN WITH CHILDREN
THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF STORIES. Ms.
Shedlock points out that the Pueblo Indians
never trained their children in their duties with
bare commands. For each duty, the Indians
devised a fairy-tale designed to explain how
children first learned it was right to act a
certain way and what happened to those who
acted otherwise. Whatever moral lesson there
was was woven into the fabric of the story
itself. When her children were ready to learn,
the Indian mother sent for the tribal storyteller
or “dreamer,” who would then come and help
her children imagine or dream of proper
behavior.
However, like Kohlberg, Shedlock stresses
that moral development is not something done
in one lump session, like mastering the
multiplication tables. She notes that it is a
gradual process to be nourished continually,
especially through stories. Further, stories show
a child one’s true position in the universe, thus
preventing an exaggerated idea of one’s own
importance. They help bring about a clearer
perception of all situations, enabling the child
to get the point of view of another person.
They are actually the first instilling of
philosophy into the mind of a child and help
prevent much suffering later when the blows of
life start falling. Shedlock maintains that stories
lay the groundwork of wisdom and of the
perspective that makes true joy a possibility.
And the truth of what she says is readily
attested to by our own experience.
2. THERE IS A CRUCIAL DISTINCTION
BETWEEN MORAL DEVELOPMENT
THROUGH STORIES AND MORALIZING
THROUGH STORIES. Again and again,
throughout her book, Ms. Shedlock advises
against beating children over the head with the
moral “point” of a story. She would claim,
rather, that if the story is a good one and well
told, then whatever moral is in it will emerge
gently and gradually in the consciousness of the
child and sometimes only after some years. If
our presentation is sincere and life-like, then
we shall convey all we intend to the child.
Actually she is saying what every great artist
has known intuitively; the purpose of the story
is the story itself. The great artists are moral
without having a moral. There is much more
richness in any narrative then can be summed in
a neat lesson. Hopefully, children will not get
the idea that all there is to stories are dull
lessons that get sprung on them at the end.
Marie Shedlock in her book affirms what
Kohlberg will perhaps never get to say. It is
this: Good stories imitate life in the very
ambiguity and irony of situations, of people’s
reactions to situations, and of the results of
situations. They breed wonder, not neat moral
platitudes. Because of this quality in them,
stories can very much enrich the development
of children, especially their moral development.
There is much more that could be said about
the uses of stories, in many different aspects of
education, especially religious education. I have
found that older teens and adults alike seem to
understand theoretical material more quickly
and to personalize it more deeply when it is
concretized in story. I have seen the same thing
borne out in weekend retreats for high school
and college age young people. In speaking to
young people, two-thirds of my time goes into
finding the right stories, one-third into the rest.
Further, the homiletics class I will never teach
would spend most of its time on learning the
art of telling and dramatizing stories. Those
who neglect stories in their preaching would be
encouraged to snuff candles but to never
preach.
So, thank you Marie Shedlock, I’m sorry
Lawrence Kohlberg never ran into you in
Harvard Square. Had he, I’m sure he would
have wanted to sit at your feet and hear you
tell your stories.
I »