The prompt origin of conscience contra free will a theologico philosophical excursion

One graciously concedes the priority of empirical observation over mere dialectical posturing. Should a phenomenon manifest itself with tiresome regularity in the natural order, intellectual probity demands at least a preliminary nod of acknowledgment before one unleashes the full arsenal of detached, reprobate rationalism. Such was the chastened posture adopted by the present writer upon perusing page 45 of Rabbi Mordechai Katz’s Understanding Judaism—a volume whose sobriety stands in refreshing contrast to the present effusion.

The perennial preoccupation with free will, that darling centerpiece of anthropological theology, contrasts markedly with the more austere focus of theocentric theology upon the divine character qua holy. Yet ecclesiastical history, particularly the Christian branch (itself once an exuberant sect within Second Temple Judaism), has spent two millennia anxiously calibrating the amber light of orthodoxy. The resultant denominational kaleidoscope—some forty thousand shades, by the latest unreliable census—exhibits remarkable uniformity on soteriological essentials while diverging spectacularly on the mechanics thereof: Arianism, Pelagianism (and its semi-pelagian cousin), Calvinism, Arminianism, and, for the truly optimistic, Universalism. When the taxonomic dust settles, however, these multitudinous positions collapse rather neatly into a binary opposition: synergism (human agency cooperates with divine initiative) versus monergism (G-d alone effectuates salvation). One might almost pity the combatants for reducing so cosmic a drama to the question of whose fingers are on the scale. Saint Augustine, that tireless architect of Western theological neuroses, once offered the impeccably monergistic prayer:

“God command what you will and grant what you command.”  

A sentiment as elegant as it is devastating to any robust doctrine of unaided moral competence. One imagines it either dramatizes canine Pavlovian conditioning or features a particularly earnest wolf howl. The attentive reader will note Ezekiel 36:23–27, wherein the deity announces a comprehensive cardiac renovation program—removal of the stony heart, installation of fleshy substitute, infusion of divine spirit—all executed unilaterally so that the beneficiaries “shall keep my judgments, and do them.” Causality here runs in one direction only, and it is decidedly not from human volition upward. Rabbi Katz, with characteristic rabbinic lucidity, observes:

“The concept of free will is central to the understanding of difficulties and suffering. … If G-d were to punish us immediately for every wrongdoing, we would be like animals going through an obedience or behavioral-conditioning course. … immediate reward and punishment would signal the loss of free will.”

A compelling case for deferred gratification, to be sure—yet one that invites the impudent question: whence arises the very desire to transgress, or conversely to obey? If the Noahide imperative to establish courts aims precisely to retard human depravity, one cannot help wondering whether the prompt that initiates moral motion.

Oppression of the State or Bondage of the Will? originates in the creature or the Creator. Suffering, after all, functions less as a moral puzzle than as a diagnostic symptom of an already terminal condition: humanity, collectively and individually, is “dead in trespasses and sins” long before any particular act of rebellion.

Wild consider, by way of zoological interlude, the lupine social order (the author, we are informed, once trafficked in hybrid wolves—a credential sufficiently exotic to warrant mention). The alpha male secures genetic primacy and pack survival through a delightful blend of cunning and brute intimidation. Yet senescence eventually demotes him to omega status, whereupon the pack, in a rare display of geriatric pastoral care, affords him continued membership. Touching, really. Were one to interrogate said alpha at the precise moment of his victorious snarl: “Pray tell, noble beast, from whence derives this imperious instinct—Satan, social pressure, or mere self-gratification?” The creature would doubtless reply, with impeccable Darwinian candor, that conscience is but the voice of natural selection.

Scripture, alas, proposes an alternative prompter: the Spirit of the L-rd. Fire! Fire! Soldiers, we are reliably informed, routinely contravene the primal scream of self-preservation in service of mission or collective survival. Such defiance, when laudable, reflects trained rather than instinctual behavior.

Scriptural self-sacrifice, however, presupposes prior regeneration: one acts (whether recognizably) heroically not to earn grace, but because grace has already vivified the previously moribund will (Ezekiel 36:27 again, for the slow learners among us).

In the final analysis, the weary combatant against fleshly impulses may at last discern the true origin of any victorious impetus. Was it mundane, heroic, or holy? The mere utterance of “free will” suffices to summon the Calvinist thunderbolts; restraint in the face of such provocation may itself constitute an observable act of liberty—albeit one whose deeper motivational archaeology remains tantalizingly obscure.

Ultimately, accountability rests upon the agent, irrespective of the shadowy provenance of the prompt that set the will in motion. In our present enlightened epoch, virtue must frequently be exercised incognito lest it attract the wrong sort of applause. As the Joseph narrative so patiently illustrates, divine intentions for good are not infrequently subordinated to human agendas of considerably less exalted pedigree.

שָׁלוֹם עַל יִשְׂרָאֵל
Soli Deo Gloria
Wit