W
hile watching coverage of the Pope’s visit to Spain and his meeting with young people, I noticed that he kept returning to the same theme as they raised the same concerns: their desire for God and how it could strengthen their faith. He seemed to take two paths: conscience and wonder. Naturally, the two belong together. Conscience on its own can seem cold, even demanding. But when joined to a gentler spirit of wonder, it becomes a gateway to God. Here’s the story of someone I knew.
I’ll call him Silvio. He was in his midtwenties and, around the time our paths crossed, had begun to take his faith seriously. Raised in a traditional Catholic family, he had drifted away during his teenage years. After coming to this country, he told me how his return to faith had been prompted by a crisis. Living alone in a hostel, he became involved with some dangerous people who offered him the prospect of quick but dishonest money. The proposal was very attractive and, at first, he considered accepting it.
It would have solved several of his problems, at least materially. He asked for time to think, and that pause became one of the turning points of his life. He asked himself: ‘If I take this road, what does it mean for my future?’ The answer frightened him—in a healthy way. For the first time as an adult, he realised that the quality of his life depended on his own decisions. Until then he had drifted through life, immature and careless, not fully alert to its dangers.
But if he followed the proposal of his friends, he sensed that something in him would be damaged forever. He found himself at a genuine crossroads, knowing that the easy option would mean acting against his conscience. Then two further insights became clear. First, he realised that this decision could shape his entire future and was perhaps the first major choice of his life. Second, and more unexpectedly, he saw that he needed to sort himself out religiously. This moral decision opened up a host of new questions.
What was he living for? Was he alone in the world? If so, where would he find the strength to remain faithful to his conscience? Where was God in all this—if there was a God? The battle of conscience opened the door to deeper wonder. He came to see that this experience of conscience was, at least for him, an indirect experience of God. The voice was within him, yet also larger than him, beyond him. Silvio explained it this way: ‘At a certain point I saw with complete clarity that I would not be true to myself if I took this money.
Once I recognised that, the decision was made. There was really no struggle once I admitted that this voice of conscience was unmistakable. Perhaps, I was fortunate.’