Saints don't need to be fanatics
Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s;
and unto God the things that are God’s. (Matthew 22)
“Easy call,” says
, “tell[] the King to pack sand and take[] the beheading like a champ.” In his recent criticism of the Robert Bolt play, A Man for All Seasons, Kieffaber argues that Thomas More is portrayed as an equivocator, whose failings can only be explained by a sinful doubt in the existence of God. Kieffaber believes that More had a binary choice: “Pledge fealty … or get beheaded.” He condemns the fictional More for looking for an “Option C.”Sed contra, the life of the faithful is complex. The fictional More’s actions demonstrate the virtue of prudence: his resignation and silence were chosen to pursue the value of justice as well as of truth. Attempts to avoid death were not sinful disobedience to God’s will, but a Christian recognition that his life had value. Bolt’s portrayal of More reminds us that saints do not have to be fanatics.
Note: In this essay, “More” should be taken to mean “Bolt’s fictional portrayal of More.” Kieffaber and I both agree on the historical More’s sanctitude, and I don’t comment on that, nor on the historical accuracy of Bolt’s portrayal.
The virtue of prudence
Prudence is the virtue that disposes practical reason to discern our true good in every circumstance … It is not to be confused with timidity or fear, nor with duplicity or dissimulation. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1806)
Kieffaber’s analysis suffers by neglecting the virtue of prudence. Prudence is the virtue of using our practical reason to pursue the good in real circumstances. In real circumstances, there are many different good values. More wanted to preserve his life, to provide for his family, to serve his society, and to promote justice. He also wanted to tell the truth, and to stay loyal to God and his religion. All these values are good.
Kieffaber’s analysis seems to frame one set of values as Option A, and the other as Option B. One set of values must be accepted, the other set rejected. He then, in essence, rejects all basic values that aren’t religion: “More was his Majesty’s good servant only insofar as he counseled the King towards Godliness” (emphasis mine). Was More not His Majesty’s good servant when he promoted justice in His Majesty’s legal system? When he contributed to the social life of the kingdom by raising his children? When he counselled Richard to become a teacher?
Before we start on the path of prudence, we must recognise all of these values as good. Prudence then uses practical reason to discern a course of action efficiently to pursue them. Prudence does not allow us to lie because we believe that it will result in other goods being realised (even if they are truly good things, like life, family, society, and justice). To do so would be to choose against religious truth. However, the fact that we may not choose against religious truth does not mean that we must tunnel vision down on it and therefore neglect life, family, society and justice. Ignoring a set of goods may make the choice easier, but it’s not prudent.
Bolt’s More, on the other hand, respects all of the values I named above—life, society, justice, truth, religion. Without choosing against any of them, he sets himself a course of action that pursues them in the way he feels is best. This is the prudent path—this is the Christian path.
Silence heard round the world
More powerfully, More’s chosen path was not even an evasion of his responsibility to bear witness to the truth, and Bolt does not portray it as such. More’s refusal to assent was a witness to his dissent, and all England interpreted it that way:
“Cromwell: But, Gentlemen of the jury, there are many kinds of silence. … Silence can, according to circumstances, speak … Is there a man in this court, is there a man in this country, who does not know Sir Thomas More’s opinion of the King’s title? Of course not! But how can that be? Because this silence betokened—nay, this silence was not silence at all but most eloquent denial!
More does, it is admitted, say that silence must legally be construed as consent. But he does not at any point say that his silence actually implies consent. Acting as his own defence in an adversarial legal system, he does what is right in that legal system and makes the best possible argument for his case:
More: Not so, Master Secretary … The maxim of the law is “Silence gives consent.” … The world must construe according to its wits. This Court must construe according to the law.”
By choosing for truth, by refusing to lie, and by speaking definitively when eventually forced to make the choice, More bore powerful witness to God and to religion. But by choosing also for life, for justice, for his society and his family (without sinning against religious truth), More bore powerful witness to the value of his life, of the legal system, and of society. His path prudently accepted all of these values as good.
Kieffaber refers to More’s silence as “the decline of our nation.” Does he believe that More would have borne better witness by taking an antagonistic position? Think of those who have most influence in your nation, and ask if More’s kind of witness might not be an improvement. For that reason, a saintly version of Tijmen van der Maas would have taken a similar course of action to Bolt’s More.
However, as Finnis writes, “Any commitment to a coherent plan of life is going to involve some degree of concentration on one or some of the basic forms of good, at the expense, temporarily or permanently, of other forms of good.” (NLNR 105) Perhaps a saintly version of Jack Kieffaber would have taken a different course of action—pursuing religious truth more actively, and the good of the legal system less so. Some saints look like Thomas More, others like Francis of Assisi. God did not create us all to pursue the same path.
Doubt is not a sin
One way in which we are all alike is in our doubts. We all have a fear of death. That’s why we find relatable the scenes where More tries to “weasel out” of his execution, and why we find it so impressive when he, ultimately, accepts death rather than sin.
Kieffaber writes that “Doubt is the root of all sin … fear of death is a doubt, and Thomas More the character feared death.” It might conflict with St Paul’s aphorism that “the love of money is the root of all evil,” or prima facie with Aquinas’s sophisticated argument that pride is the root of all sin, but there is something meaningful in it. When we doubt, we are more inclined to a wrong choice, because we aren’t certain it’s wrong after all.
The Church praises martyrdom, because it shows that the martyr accepted death rather than sin. At the same time, it condemns seeking after martyrdom, because we should not seek to die. This is part of what makes Christ’s sacrifice more relatable to us—he didn’t want to be crucified. Like us, he felt agony about and reluctance towards his own death.
O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me:
nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. (Matthew 26)
Why doesn’t More “take[] the beheading like a champ?” For the same reason that Jesus doesn’t “take[] the [crucifixion] like a champ:” because they value the life that God gave them as good, and are afraid of losing it. St Thomas More values his life, and is afraid of death. This does not stop him from being a saint.
Conclusion
Bolt’s aptly-chosen title, A Man for All Seasons, foreshadows that his More will not be portrayed as a single-minded fanatic. More valued not just religious truth, but also his life, his family, his society, and the promotion of justice. When he was faced with a situation that threatened to put these values in conflict with one another, he refused to yield to the false dichotomy, and used his prudence to plan a course of action that participated in all of the basic values.
Kieffaber is right that his nation (and mine) require the moral clarity of saints. This moral clarity is not, however, achieved by antagonism. Kieffaber’s ideal More would be a fanatic, who chased only religious truth at the expense of all else. The saint knows when to be silent, as well as when to speak. Let us strive to be more like Thomas More—the historical version as well as Bolt’s fictional one.