On April 18, 1521, an Augustinian monk named Martin Luther stood before Charles V, king of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor, and his court comprised of representatives from the nations of Europe. Luther was required to respond to two questions: Did he author the books laid out before the audience, challenging the authority of the Catholic Church along with the Christian nations that followed it, and would he then recant those heretical views?
Luther replied:
Unless I am convinced by Scripture and plain reason — I do not accept the authority of the popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other — my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not recant anything for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. God help me. Amen.
Bill Leonard
That was then. This is now.
On Feb. 10, Acting Deputy Attorney General Emil Bove directed United States Attorney Danielle Sasson to dismiss a grand jury-approved indictment against New York Mayor Eric Adams “without prejudice, subject to certain conditions.”
Two days later, Sasson responded in a letter to Attorney General Pam Bondi, writing that Bove’s memo “raises serious concerns that render the contemplated dismissal inconsistent with my ability and duty to prosecute federal crimes without fear or favor and to advance good-faith arguments before the court.”
When the meeting she requested with Bondi did not occur, Sasson resigned, as did six of her colleagues in the Southern District of New York, including Chief Prosecutor Hagan Scotten, whose letter of resignation concluded:
“I expect you will eventually find someone who is enough of a fool, or enough of a coward, to file your motion. But it was never going to be me.”
Any assistant U.S. attorney would know that our laws and traditions do not allow using the prosecutorial power to influence other citizens, much less elected officials, in this way. If no lawyer within earshot of the president is willing to give him that advice, then I expect you will eventually find someone who is enough of a fool, or enough of a coward, to file your motion. But it was never going to be me.
Modern Luthers?
From a distance of five centuries, Luther, Sasson and Scotten exercised conscientious objections to the dictates of their respective 16th- and 21st-century governments, courageously dissenting against the principalities and powers of their times. Luther’s conscience sparked the Protestant Reformation. Whether the strength of conscience exemplified by Sasson, Scotten and their colleagues will impact Americans’ sense of conscience remains to be seen.
Conscience haunts us, especially in times of cultural and political upheaval. Like now, when many feel their consciences under siege. Indeed, a great gulf of conscience seems to divide the entire nation.
Since Jan. 20, the term “gulf” has taken on a whole new meaning, applied to a presidential executive order replacing the name of the Gulf of Mexico with Gulf of America. Google and Apple Maps have been edited to reflect the new nomenclature for American clients, while Mexican client-maps retain the traditional name. Global users now see Gulf of Mexico, with (Gulf of America) following. (Incredulously, failure to conform to that renaming got representatives of the Associated Press barred “indefinitely” from the Oval Office and press travel on Air Force One.)
Geographically, the word “gulf” is defined as “a deep inlet of the sea almost surrounded by land, with a narrow mouth.” But that is not its only meaning. “Gulf” can also refer to “a large difference or division between two people or groups, or between viewpoints concepts, or situations.”
“We are increasingly divided across a gulf of consciences in response to radical changes in the body politic.”
Therein lies its application to American consciences, 2025. At this point in time, we are increasingly divided across a gulf of consciences in response to radical changes in the body politic with implications for larger legal, cultural and, yes, religious issues.
Conscience in short supply
Conscience often seems in short supply in the land of the free and the home of political attacks on the Episcopal Church, the Roman Catholic Church and the Evangelical Lutheran Church. Indeed, certain members of Congress might parody Martin Luther by saying, “Our consciences are captive to the current president of the United States.” How and through whom will the courage of conscience be expressed for “the living of these days?”
Defining conscience isn’t easy. It doesn’t show up on X-rays; it produces varied, sometimes contradictory responses within and among individuals; and it can get you into and out of trouble at any moment.
In Christianity and the Laws of Conscience: An Introduction, editors Jeffrey B. Hammond and Helen M. Alvare note that across the centuries, writers have asked if conscience even exists, and if so, “is it primarily or exclusively a religious matter?” or can it “pertain to non-religious people and convictions?” Where is conscience located? “Does it involve the mind, the will, the heart, feelings, and/or the soul” or a combination of all that?
In a 2022 article in the journal Religions, Concordia University Professor Angus Menuge wrote:
A widely held view of the conscience is that, under the right conditions, it can provide knowledge of moral obligations. Combined with the idea that conscience can deliver a form of self-knowledge about one’s own beliefs, this means that, through the right use of conscience, one can acquire beliefs about the morality of one’s own actions that are reliably grounded in moral reality. We might call this double achievement — self-knowledge in light of moral knowledge — moral self-knowledge.
The Cambridge Dictionary says conscience is “the feeling that you know and should do what is right and should avoid doing what is wrong, and that it makes you feel guilty when you have done something you know is wrong.” In 2025, is that still the case?
“How and when might the Gulf of Conscience embolden us in the days, weeks, months, years ahead?”
How and when might the Gulf of Conscience embolden us in the days, weeks, months, years ahead?
When ICE agents strike our neighborhoods, schools, churches in search of “illegals?”
When hospitals in our rural or inner-city neighborhoods are forced to close because of lack of funds?
When African American history is censored or excised from our local school curriculum?
When convicted perpetrators of the violent January 6 attack are pardoned, and their investigating officers hauled into court?
When elements of Christian nationalism become the law of the land?
When children with special needs lose Medicaid/Medicare funding for their health and educational needs?
When American veterans no longer receive the kind of health care they have been promised?
When an unelected team of individuals without security clearance gains entrance into our most confidential information?
And what of conscience and religious freedom, a continuous struggle from before the beginnings of the republic? In A Short Declaration of the Mystery of Iniquity (1611/12), Baptist founder Thomas Helwys penned words for which he was sent to London’s Newgate Prison, where he died:
For we do freely profess that our lord the king has no more power over (Catholic) consciences than over ours, and that is none at all. … For men’s religion to God is between God and themselves. The king shall not answer for it. Neither may the king be judge between God and man. Let them be heretics, Turks, Jews, or whatsoever, it appertains not to the earthly power to punish them in the least measure. This is made evident to our lord the king by Scriptures.
Four hundred thirteen years later, I’d wade into the Gulf of Conscience for that inimitable gift of faith and freedom.
Wouldn’t you?
Bill Leonard is founding dean and the James and Marilyn Dunn professor of Baptist studies and church history emeritus at Wake Forest University School of Divinity in Winston-Salem, N.C. He is the author or editor of 25 books. A native Texan, he lives in Winston-Salem with his wife, Candyce, and their daughter, Stephanie.
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