I am mindful tonight of the amazing people who have preceded me in receiving this recognition, and I am so honored to be in their company. 

Some of my predecessors have spoken about the life of St. Thomas More, and I will continue that tradition. I will focus tonight on two qualities which inspire me and which are timely for the days in which we live: conscience and courage.    

What does it mean to live according to your conscience? What does conscience require of us? To what courageous acts are we called?

Thomas More was able to discern what his conscience required despite the moral upheavals of his time. He was able to act boldly in defense of that conscience. How would we respond if we were called now to do the same?

It took 400 years for St. Thomas More to be canonized after his death in 1535: he has been a figure not without controversy. He lived in a time of enormous religious and social change and was a passionate defender of Catholic orthodoxy. Some historians believe that he took an active role in interrogating and even torturing accused heretics. In 2000, Pope John Paul II commented of More: "It can be said that he demonstrated in a singular way the value of a moral conscience ... even if, in his actions against heretics, he reflected the limits of the culture of his time".

We think of St. Thomas More as the patron saint of lawyers and judges, but he is also the patron saint of politicians—he himself had all three roles. He was barely 30 when he became an undersheriff of London. He went on to become Henry VIII’s secretary, interpreter, speechwriter, diplomat, and advisor. He was knighted, elected to Parliament, appointed chancellor of Lancaster and then of all England. Pope John Paul II’s remarks about him being a man of his time were made in the context of declaring More the patron saint of statesmen and politicians. Certainly if any group is in need of a patron saint, some might say that would be politicians. 

Early in his political career, More exercised courage by standing up against an unreasonable and illegal request by the monarch, King Henry VII. The King was entitled to a certain grant of money when his daughter Margaret Tudor married the king of Scotland, but Henry demanded that Parliament authorize a much greater sum. Members of Parliament were unwilling to approve the request but were afraid to offend the King. Then More spoke up—his speech is credited with convincing Parliament to authorize just 1/5 of the King’s request. In retaliation, the King promptly threw More’s father in the Tower and released him only when a fine was paid.

As we know, More was again called upon to be courageous when Henry VIII demanded that his subjects take an oath displacing the Pope’s authority and declaring Henry to be supreme head of the Church in England. More did not take the oath, but fastidiously kept his views to himself, even to the extent of not telling his wife Alice why he would not take the oath. When Henry married Anne Boleyn, More wished happiness to the King and health to the new Queen, but refused to attend the coronation. The King's government promptly charged More with accepting a bribe, but the case was dismissed for lack of evidence.

Finally, More was summoned before a commission and required to swear to the Oath of Succession. The preamble to the oath repudiated the authority of the Pope. By then, it was a crime to speak against the King’s supremacy. At his trial, More argued that, although he had not taken the oath, he had never spoken out against it, and that his silence should be accepted as giving consent. But false testimony was given that he had spoken out. The jury deliberated only 15 minutes.

This final chapter in More’s life is chronicled in Robert Bolt’s famous play A Man For All Seasons. I close by sharing one of my favorite scenes in the play, pertinent to the themes of conscience and courage.

More’s wife Alice, daughter Margaret, and son-in-law William Roper are visiting More in the Tower for the last time. They have gained access to More by promising that they could persuade him to take the oath. Margaret implores her father: “Say the words of the oath and in your heart think otherwise.” More replies: “What is an oath then but words we say to God? When a person takes an oath, he’s holding his own self in his hands, like water. If he opens his fingers then, he need not hope to find himself again.” Then More talks about standing fast “even at the risk of being heroes.”

Thomas More did not want to be a hero. He loved life, he loved his family, and he longed to remain with them. He literally held the key to his own prison cell right up to the time of his trial and sentence. If he had taken the oath even at that late stage, Henry may very well have allowed his friend and confidante, his loyal servant, to live. But More would not take the oath.

What can we learn, what inspiration can we draw from More’s life?  He lived in a time of radical change—as perhaps we do—the basic premises of order were being swept away, his sense of what was morally right was being challenged. He would not agree to what he believed was wrong. He loved life greatly, but there was something without which for him life was valueless. Thomas More’s final words say much of conscience and courage: "I die the King's good servant, and God's first."