Assent and Dissent

Assent and Dissent

by Ladislas Örsy, SJ

Chapter Three in his book The Church: Learning and Teaching, Michael Glazier 1987; here republished with the necessary permissions.

We know that the whole church is the trustee of the word of God; we know also that the episcopate plays a special role in the preserving and unfolding of the Word in the course of history.

We know also that there is a sacred dialectic going on all the time between the episcopate and the people. In the previous section we have reflected on the pronouncements of those who have authority in matters doctrinal; in this section the scope of our reflections will be the response of the people. Let us remember, though, that people here may well include everyone; popes and bishops of modern times are part of the whole church which responds to the great councils of the early times.

The response, of course, must correspond to the call. If the episcopate brought solemn witness to the Word, the response cannot be anything else than a surrender in faith; if the episcopate speaks with authority but still searching for the whole truth promised by their Lord, the response of the community ought to be an obsequium which, depending on the certainty the church has reached, can be anything from an assent of faith to a respectful pondering how further progress toward the whole truth can be made.

When surrender in faith is due

Within the great community of the church, there is the community of the bishops. Ever since the beginnings, there has been a belief in the consciousness of the Christians that they, the bishops, when in communion with each other, have a power “in the Spirit’ to proclaim the authentic word of God. Vatican Council II did no more than to articulate this ancient belief:

Although the individual bishops do not enjoy the prerogative of infallibility, they can nevertheless proclaim Christ’s doctrine infallibly. This is so, even when they are dispersed around the world, provided that while maintaining the bond of unity among themselves and with Peter’s successor, and while teaching authentically on a matter of faith or morals, they concur in a single viewpoint as the one which must be held conclusively. This authority is even more clearly verified when, gathered together in an ecumenical council, they are teachers and judges of faith and morals for the universal Church; their definitions must then be adhered to with the submission of faith. (LG 25)

“With the submission of faith” translates fidei obsequio, which means surrender to the truth with an act of faith.

Indeed there is the sacred play: the bishops in communion assisted by the Spirit bear witness to the truth; the people of God, guided by the same Spirit, recognize the truth in their voice; as they accept it they surrender their mind to God. An act of worship: obsequium fidei.

The image of a sacred play is not merely an abstract construct. The play is enacted every time a Christian community recites the traditional (Nicene-Constantinopolitan) Creed. When they do so, usually before the celebration of the Eucharist, they respond to the ancient councils. There is a timeless beauty in this ceremony: far away in space and in time, at Nicaea in 325 and in Constantinople in 381, the assembled bishops proclaimed the Word through a Creed they composed. Today Christian communities respond by accepting their witness and surrendering with an act of faith to the truth of what they heard, notwithstanding the immense distances in space and time.

No more need be said here about this assent in faith; the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium explicates the doctrine in some detail concerning the particular charisms of the pope, of the episcopal college and of the faithful.

The meaning of obsequium

The small word obsequium is occupying an increasingly large place in the attention of theologians. (1) No wonder it has become a key word to describe (or to prescribe) the response of the faithful to the pronouncements of the teaching authority. To find its meaning in the original Latin is difficult enough, to translate this meaning into English is near impossible.

1. In the documents of Vatican Council II the word or its derivatives occur repeatedly (Ochoa in his Index lists twenty-two references), but it is used in a variety of senses. In the Code of Canon Law, 1983, it occurs five times, three times specifically connected with the teaching office (canons 218, 752, 753).

It may look like an abstract term, but it is meant to be practical. It has been used, and is being used, to regulate the attitude of the faithful in doctrinal matters.

In order to explain the meaning of obsequium, a small diversion about the hermeneutics of conciliar texts is necessary.

Often enough, there is a conciliar text in which a term or an expression is used which, at the time of the council did not have a fully matured and commonly agreed on definition; such as subsistit in the sentence Haec Ecclesia [Christi) . . . subsistit in Ecclesia catholica. . . “This Church [of Christ] ... subsists in the Catholic Church... (LG 8). Or, communitas ecclesialis for describing some non Catholic Christian communities (e.g. UR 19). Or even such a locution as Vicarius Christi used for both the pope and the diocesan bishop (e.g. LG 18 and 27). Many other examples could be quoted. The fact stands that not rarely, when the council made a statement, especially a statement containing a new insight into the doctrine revealed by God, the Fathers left also some uncertainty or ambiguity behind. No one who is familiar with the documents can deny that much. Had it been otherwise (that is, had the council come out with clear and distinct statements only), its speech would not have been human speech. (2)

2. A conventional method to explain the “mind of the council” is from the discussions which have taken place in the drafting committees, from the developments of the successive drafts of a document and from the official Relatio which introduced it to the assembly. Such a historical approach (indispensable as it is) can certainly account, perhaps to a high degree, for the “mind of the committee,” or the “mind of the relator,” but in itself it is incomplete because it does not account for what went on in the mind of the vast majority who ultimately approved of the document. It is precisely in this general act of approval that the sensus fidei of the episcopate could have been playing a decisive role beyond and above the reasoning of the drafting committee and the persuasive speech of the relator.

It follows that a seminal concept can contain more than what the drafting committee intended to put there. This should not be surprising; for a long time we have accepted that an expression in the Scriptures can contain an inspiration for the whole church well beyond the meaning intended by the writer himself.

All seminal locutions emerge with a meaning from the past, but their full significance can unfold in the future only. The historians of the council can report on the reasons articulated by the drafting committee explaining the use of a term such as subsistit, collegium, vicarius, or obsequium, etc.; they can have, however, no direct access to the instinct of faith of the majority who recognized in the expression a genuine insight into the Christian tradition—to be reflected on and defined with greater precision by generations to come.

As soon as the council had come to an end, researchers converged on its pronouncements. Naturally enough, they perceived the uncertainties and ambiguities. The question came spontaneously: What did the council mean exactly when it used such-and-such a term or expression? Many researchers rushed (and are still rushing) into answering the question without ever asking if the Fathers intended an exact meaning in the first place as the conclusion of their thought process, or wanted to prompt the church into a thought process with the help of an intuitive insight. (3)

3. I do not know of any comprehensive study (if such a thing is possible) of the hermeneutics of the declarations of Vatican Council II. There are particular studies on individual documents but they lack the dimension which can come only from comparing one document to another. If such a major study will ever be undertaken, it should include also an identification and critical evaluation of the different literary forms used within various constitutions, decrees and declarations.

Such a study is all the more needed in that Vatican Council II has been different from all other councils; its scope was not to determine contested issues but to give pastoral guidance to the whole church. Judges speak in a court room, their language is precise and technical, they absolve the innocent and condemn the guilty . Pastors speak in a friendly environment, they use words to attract and encourage those who listen, they wish to heal the sick and bring back the lost ones.

In other words, the final formulation is due not only to the rational planning of a committee but also the faith vision of all the participants.

Obviously it would be wrong to say that an ecumenical council is either judicial or pastoral; nevertheless there can be dominant trends at a council which must be taken into account in construing the correct hermeneutics for the interpretation of that council.

Thus dissertations and hypotheses keep multiplying, defending one meaning or another, presuming always that there must have been a well-defined meaning somewhere. It can be only a matter of patience and diligence to find it! Alas, at times, a monumental work"proving" what the council meant exactly can be described only with the classical words magnus passus extra viam, a remarkable step—in the wrong direction. (4)

4. The emphasis is on what the council meant exactly Clearly, it is perfectly legitimate to write a dissertation on the development of a point of doctrine in the discussions of a conciliar committee, or on the doctrine expounded and embraced by a relator, and so forth; as long as the researcher states conclusions with the mind of the council.

The thesis (if a thesis it is) I wish to put forward is that in the conciliar documents there are terms and expressions for which we need a new category. They are not precise concepts; they are “seminal locutions.” This, of course, needs explanation.

Seminal locution is an expression which conveys an insight into the truth but without defining it with precision; it needs to be developed further. It is a broad and

?

To say that the council has left room for further development in the understanding of a concept is not to imply that the council acted on scarce information about its meaning. Quite the contrary; the Fathers perceived with great clarity a meaning which carried in itself the potential for further development. intuitive approach to a mystery that leaves plenty of room for future discoveries. (5)

5. Such a development is not simply a logical explicitation of what is contained in the seminal locution. It arises out of the convergence and accumulation of new insights, reached through reflections (and through experiences, if such is the case) prompted by the original seminal locution.

For some scholars this can sound like an absurd statement; it seems to imply that the Fathers did not even know with any certainty what they were doing or saying. Well, the problem is not with the Fathers; they knew well enough what they were doing. It is with the expectation of the researchers: they assume that the council had to speak with clear and distinct ideas all the time. But this was not the case. Vatican Council II was a pastoral council not only in what it said but in the manner of saying it. In this respect, it has no parallel in history.

Besides, the same council affirmed the existence of a “supernatural sense of faith” of an “unerring quality” “from the bishops down ... which is aroused and sustained by the Spirit of truth” (LG 12). This sense of faith, no doubt, operated at the council itself, among the bishops, and helped them to identify, but not to dissect, analyze and classify, the seeds of truth which in due course can grow into a large tree. (6)

6. Indeed, research into the meaning of a conciliar idea can go in the wrong direction, and end up with irrelevant conclusions, because of the false initial assumption that the council’s intention was to teach through precise concepts and conclusive propositions. The council’s task was to bear witness to the truth; such a task is often correctly fulfilled by pointing toward the truth.

This is not to mean that the Fathers never used words and terms in an exact way, or they never taught in precise propositions. They did, and when they did, the meaning of their various expressions can be clarified by appropriate research.

All those who in one way or another were involved in the work of the council or had the opportunity to observe its operation, know well that while the Fathers had an overall perception as to “where the council was going,’’ many of them would have been hard put to define the precise meaning of an idea they otherwise approved of and voted for. Further, if somebody had asked each individual bishop to give, before he voted, his own interpretation of, say, subsistit, there would have been a variety of responses their name would have been legion! From so many differing perceptions, no ultimate precision could arise. But the multiplicity of answers could still cover a common insight and point in the same direction.

So, often enough, the right questions in undertaking the interpretation of a conciliar term and expression are: “How can this insight be developed further?” “Where does it lead’” In answering such questions Newman’s theory on the development of doctrine can be helpful: enlightenment will not come from logical deductions alone; the “supernatural sense of faith” of the community will play a capital role in carrying the teaching of the council forward.

The problem is that many researchers do not raise the initial questions of the literary form of the expression they intend to clarify.

It follows that before the investigation for finding the meaning of a term or expression is undertaken, the nature of that locution must be determined. If it is a straightforward affirmation, the work of construing its exact definition may well start immediately. If it is a seminal expression, it should be taken for such; it should be taken as a seed sown which must strike roots and grow branches before it can bear fruit. A seminal expression must be assimilated, pondered over before its potential meaning can unfold. Councils are entitled not only to make precise definitions but also to use an evangelical mode of speech.

Now we are able to come to the point. Obsequium is one of these seminal words. The discussion whether it means precisely “respect” or “submission” works on a wrong assumption, which is that the council indeed meant it always in a specific and exact way. The council used many forms of speech.

When the council spoke of religious obsequium it meant an attitude toward the church which is rooted in the virtue of religion, the love of God and the love of his church. This attitude in every concrete case will be in need of further specification, which could be “respect”, or could be “submission,” depending on the progress the church has made in clarifying its own beliefs. (7)

7. See especially LG 25 and DV 5.

Obsequium, like communio, ultimately signifies to be one with the church; one in mind and heart, which means one in belief and in action. Obsequium is a special expression of this communion, mainly in doctrinal matters. It is ideally perfect when someone is so well united in faith with the church that he or she believes all that the church holds firmly, and searches with the church when some point in our tradition is in need of clarification. In the first case we can speak of obsequium  fidei (one with the believing church holding firm to a doctrine), in the second case of an obsequium religiosum (one with the searching church, working for clarification).

To put it another way the ongoing attempts to translate obsequium by one precise term are misguided efforts which originates in a lack of perception of the nature of that concept. Obsequium refers first to a general “attitude”, not to any specific form of it. The external manifestation of a disposition can take many forms, depending on the person to whom obsequium must be rendered, or on the point of doctrine that is proposed as entitled to obsequium. Accordingly, the duty to offer obsequium may bind to respect, or to submission—or to any other attitude between the two.(8)

8. The Italian word ossequio can also give a clue for the understanding of obsequium every dictionary lists a whole gamut of English words in translating it; they range from “respect” to “submission” with many other attitudes in between. Ossequio really means a fundamental attitude which needs to take a specified concrete form, depending on the circumstances; in some cases it might be a polite expression of esteem, in other cases a manifestation of submission. A similar type of word in English would be “loyalty”: it means an attitude which can be expressed in different ways—by loyal obedience or by loyal opposition.

When dissent is the response

Dissent has become one of the dominant themes in Catholic theology in the United States. As a rule, it means the refusal to accept some point of doctrine officially taught, but not infallibly defined. The right to such a dissent is vigorously vindicated by many theologians; there are also episcopal statements supporting it. To find a balance, efforts have been made to formulate guidelines for permissible dissent, and to assure that a “fair trial” is available should a conflict arise.

As far as I can ascertain it, dissent is mentioned less in European writings. Not that there are not any writers who dissent from the content of official documents; there are. But when they do, they tend to describe their approach as having an opinion différente, or being of anderer Meinung, and so forth. It may well be that the Europeans sense a problem with the word itself, and for that reason prefer to use other expressions.

In truth, dissent is an imperfect term under several aspects. When used it starts out on a negative note, indicating nothing positive. It is sweeping, with no recognizable boundaries. It could mean a purely intellectual stance, no more than a disagreement with the logic of a reasoning, or with the conclusion of a reflective process. But it could mean also an attitude of radical opposition to “the other side,” ready to break the bond of unity, in which case the propositional disagreement is only an external sign of a deep-lying internal antagonism.(9)

9. The Oxford English Dictionary gives the following three definitions of a dissenter:

  1. One who dissents in any matter; one who disagrees with any opinion, resolution, or proposal; a dissentient.
  2. One who dissents and separates himself from any specified church or religious communion, especially from that which is historically the national church, or is in some way treated as such, or regarded as the orthodox body.
  3. One who separates himself from the communion of the Established Church of England or (in Scotland) of Scotland.

No wonder the use of such an ill-defined word can easily provoke suspicion and negative reactions in the “other side”. When this happens, the scene is set for a sharp conflict, and the best explanations may be lost in the swirling mist of emotions.(10)

10. The language problems are not made easier by the fact that in political life a “dissenter” is often the one who is radically opposed to the ruling “establishment” and wants to get rid of it. Thus we speak of “dissenters” in totalitarian countries.

Thus, “dissent” is too much of an ambivalent word, with too many existential connotations beyond a purely intellectual significance to be a useful term in theological debates, which by definition are supposed to move on a rational level.

Besides, it is a historically loaded word, certainly in English. The term “dissenter” came into use in England in the seventeenth century. Originally it described those who intended to secede from the established church; later it was applied to those who had done so and formed the so-called free churches. Granted, today “to dissent” need not mean “to secede”, but we should remember that words have a life of their own. They often continue to carry meanings which they have acquired in a distant past; no matter what the present speaker intends.

Attempts have been made also to define the “right” to dissent with some precision. The problem is, as those familiar with the internal workings of a legal system know, that such amorphous concepts are the least suitable for incorporation into a legal document, and if they are, they create situations unmanageable for the “rule of law.” Any judge, wanting to uphold this right, would have to raise interminable questions: right to dissent from what? for what purpose? by what means? to what extent? in what precise circumstances? . . . and so on . . .! Rights are enforceable only when they are clearly defined, and their violation can be easily ascertained. If not, they open the door to endless litigations.(11)

11. The First Amendment to the US Constitution wisely speaks of the “freedom of speech”, and by implication the right to free speech. Difficult as it is for the courts to adjudicate cases concerning that right, how much greater their burden would be if they had to adjudicate “freedom of dissent” and the right to free dissent!

It follows that if we abandoned the word “dissent” altogether, we would lose little and gain much. If we could get into the habit of speaking of a researcher as holding another opinion or having come to a different conclusion or proposing a diverse hypothesis, we would only tell the truth positively. After all, hardly ever does a theologian dissent from a proposal and then settle down in a noman’s-land without an opinion; he dissents precisely because he has reached a positive conclusion, but a different one. If so, he might as well say it. Moreover, attitudinally, he may not be dissenting at all; rather, he many be consenting wholeheartedly to the search for a better understanding of the Christian mysteries.

All these arguments notwithstanding, it appears that for the time being at least, not only must we live with an unsuitable word, but we have to assert the legitimate right of the faithful to scientific research and to a different opinion through the use of a confusing expression: “the right to dissent.” So be it.

How to determine the limits of legitimate dissent?

As soon as this query is raised, all the latent ambiguities of the term surface—with a vengance. What kind of dissent are we talking about? Dissent from what? For what purpose? And so forth. Please, Reader, bear with the complexities, it comes from the subject matter, not from the writer. There has been already too much simplification concerning this issue; the penalty for continuing with it would be severe: confusion would reign supreme.(12)

12. Yves Congar in his Vrai et fausse réforme dans l’ Eglisc gives a set of rules for what a contestation must never do, in order to avoid being destructive of the church. Mutatis mutandis, the roles can point to the limits of dissent. He writes:

In the church la contestation can never be

  1. destructive of charity, . . . activity that wounds the heart; . . .
  2. a calling in question of those hierarchical pastoral structures of the church for which the foundations were laid by the Lord; . . .
  3. the denial or the calling in question, in a hasty, thoughtless and irresponsible fashion, of those points of doctrine for which one should rather sacrifice one’s life; . . .
  4. a rejection of those who think otherwise as bad persons, irretrievably lost; regarding them as damned without hope; . . .
  5. one cannot admit expressions of contestation in a liturgical celebration, for instance, in the homily. This would create an unbearable climate of tension and agitation in the assembly. Whatever we may think, the others have a right to peace and to respect for their position.(See p. 518)

At any rate, here and now we are seeking the permissible limits of a propositional dissent. That is, we assume that the dissenter has surrendered to God who reveals himself, and that he has accepted the Catholic belief concerning the role of the church in guarding and proclaiming the evangelical message. We are talking about a dissenter who is in full communion with the Catholic ecclesia.

That is, we assume that he consents to the core of the Catholic belief as it has been handed down by the church from generation to generation, confirmed and affirmed by the great councils, or by the pope speaking with that infallibility with which Christ wanted his church to be endowed (cf. Vatican Council). (13)

13. Because of a widely spread contrary opinion, it remains necessary to stress (and repeat) that the primary subject of infallibility is the church, not the pope, not the episcopal college. Here is the text of Vatican Council I:

" The Roman Pontiff . . . enjoys the infallibility with which the divine Redeemer wanted his church to be endowed in defining doctrine concerning faith or morals." (DS 3074)

Now, here is the question: In such circumstances, could the legitimacy of the dissent be decided by invoking the distinction between infallible and non-infallible teaching, and saying that dissent from non-infallibly defined propositions is legitimate?

The answer cannot be a simple yes because of the complex composition of the corpus of non-infallible beliefs and opinions; that corpus, as we have seen earlier in this book, may contain much that belongs to the core of our tradition but which (as yet) has not become the object of an infallible “determination.”

A historical illustration can show the correctness of this statement. The Reformers of the sixteenth century dissented from traditional beliefs on many points which were in no way infallibly defined at that time (not even the seven sacraments were defined!). Yet, as it turned out, they were wrong; in some instances, their denial went against the core of our tradition. Part of the message of the Council of Trent is that someone may be breaking the unity of faith even if the doctrine denied has never been the object of a conciliar definition.

The situation is not all that different today. In the non-infallible corpus there are surely “seeds of truth” which in due course will enter into the core known with infallible knowledge. Therefore, to state simply that dissent from non-infallibly held doctrine is legitimate, is simplistic, and incorrect. Before any judgment is made, the relationship of the non-infallible doctrine to the infallible core ought to be examined, and then a judicious statement should be made whether or not an act of dissent is permissible or not.(14)

14. Doctrines are defined because they belong to the core of the Christian tradition (that is, they are not added to the core because they were defined). The definition itself is an external authentication of an internal unity. It follows that when a point of doctrine is questioned and dissent is intended, the prospective dissenter must always move beyond the issue of “it-has-not-been-defined-infallibly” and ask what is the relationship of the contested doctrine to the core of the tradition.

A good theologian should be able to perceive the standing of a particular point of doctrine in the process of developing; he responds accordingly. He knows that before the doctrine reaches full maturity and can be affirmed with an act of faith, there is a long process. The pronouncements by popes and bishops have their own place in this movement. They benefit from an assistance of the Spirit, not only to determine (when the times are ripe for it) with finality what the church must believe but also to promote the progress of such belief.

Their contribution, however, should leave plenty of room for the theologians. Ideally, the two (hierarchy and theologians) should work in harmony; when they do, the results are likely to be enlightenment, peace and harmony (as happened at Vatican II). If they do not, conflicts are inevitable (as is happening in our times).(15)

15. The success of Vatican Council II was due as much to the insights of the theologians as to the judgment s of the bishops. It was an ideally construed situation for progress. To begin with, the theologians were trusted; they were officially invited to contribute. They came not only from all places, but from all schools of thought. They did much of the work by themselves; then they put their insights before commissions composed of theologians and bishops who did much of the screening, selecting and deciding what should be put before the plenary assembly. Finally, the bishops voted at their general congregations. Throughout it all there was a balanced play. The daring insights (or the pedestrian thinking) of the theologians were subject to the “Christian common sense” approach of the bishops; that is, intellectual discourses were measured by pastoral effectiveness. The final documents are the results of such a play, which was both creative and moderating.

If only such conditions could be recreated in the church of today, much of our woes would disappear. The thinkers in the church need the sobering influence of the pastors, and the pastors need the refreshing influence of the thinkers. At bottom, our problem is that we are still reluctant to accept the fact that the church is a community where nothing will go well unless we act as a community. Theologians and bishops had many disagreements during Heenan, Archbishop of Westminster: Timeo peritos annexa ferentes, “I fear the experts bringing their addenda! ” ? ); yet, intent on serving the church, they were forged into a community by the events of the council. Such a close and intimate cooperation can never be achieved through occasional contacts.

In this process,the voice of a theologian who remains in communion but proposes an answer different from the one given by those in authority may not be an act of dissent at all; rather, it may be a needed contribution to the development of doctrine, coming from someone who is assenting to every part of the revealed truth but is in the process of searching for the whole truth.

Should there be guidelines for dissent?

There have been many attempts to set up precise guidelines for handling dissent but really no rules can cover every single case. Ultimately there is no substitute for the learning, prudence and wisdom of those who are involved in the case.(16)

16. Concerning the non-infallible magisterium, the German episcopate in a “working paper” (for the internal use of their conference?) dated September 22, 1967 (that is, before Humanae vitae), acknowledged that

“. . . it is a fact that the teaching authority of the church in the exercise of its office can make mistakes and has made mistakes. The church has always known that such occurrences are possible, kept stating it in its theology, and has provided guidance for handling such situations.”

Obviously dissent from such mistakes cannot be wrong. To my best knowledge this paper has never been officially published but has been widely quoted; Karl Rahner commented on it. My reference is Hans Waldenfels “Von der Sprachnot in der Kirche” in Stimmen der Zeit 112 (1987), pp. 222-223.

The bishops of the United States allowed dissent from non-infallible teaching provided there is no attack on the teaching authority itself and no “scandal” is caused among the faithful. See in Human Life in Our Day A Collective Pastoral Letter of the American Hierarchy (Washington, DC: USCC, 1 968).

The hierarchy should certainly do everything to maintain a favorable climate for creative work; the church needs it. This includes generous trust in the persons who do the work of research and reflection; they should be allowed a reasonable margin for honest mistakes. After all, who would ever join a research team on the condition that no mistaken hypothesis can ever be proposed? (17) Besides, the church is strong enough to bear with some dissenting elements.

17. It belongs to the very essence of research that on the basis of the data available various working hypotheses are proposed; then, each is checked out to see that it covers the facts to be explained but does not go beyond them. Under this aspect, theological research is not different; as a rule, the right hypothesis is found only after a number of incorrect ones have been discarded. But how could they be discarded, unless they were proposed? Aquinas rejected the hypothesis of the immaculate conception because for him it contradicted the dogma of original sin; Duns Scotus retained the doctrine of immaculate conception because he found a way of reconciling it with the belief in original sin. In more modern times, Pius XII in his encyclical Humani generis condemned the doctrine of polygenesis (as applied to the human race) because it did not appear how such a theory could be “composed” with the traditional teaching about the transmission of original sin; but by saying so he left the door open to the acceptance of polygenesis as soon as there is a hypothesis which can harmonize it with the tradition that we all are born with original sin (cf. DS 3897). Since then several such hypotheses have been proposed although none of them succeeded in winning the consensus of theologians.

The main point here is simple: there is no progress in any science, theology included, unless there is enough room for hypotheses to be proposed and to be discarded. Presumably, the more the merrier—within reason.

For some mysterious reason, there is a widespread intolerance toward theologians: they are expected to come up with the correct solution, to be right the first time!

To be fair to all sides, the theologians too have to abide by the rules of this game; never on any account should they call a hypothesis the final truth.

The researchers can help to create this climate if they are aware of their own limits; that is, if they have a good perception of how much they do not know. To claim that theologians should be left alone and ultimately be subject to correction by their peers only ignores the warnings of history: all too many times in our Christian past “faculties of theology” in various universities have been wrong altogether. (18) Besides, if such a claim were taken literally, it would imply that the theologians have the assistance of the Spirit to decide ultimately cases of conflict in doctrinal matters. I do not think that either Magister Gratianus or Frater Thomas would have accepted that.

18. The faculty of the University of Paris helped to provide the “justification” for the condemnation of Joan of Arc. Cf. Regine Pernoud & M.-V. Clin, Jeanne d’Arc, (Paris Fayard, 1986), pp. 167-169. The theologians of the same university also provided leaders and arguments for the movement of extreme conciliarism in the 15th century.

“When the famous scholar and poet Fray Luis de Leon was arrested in 1572 [by the Spanish Inquisition], he succeeded in identifying some of his accusers by the simple means of naming most of his colleagues at the University of Salamanca as possible personal enemies;. . .” Quote from Cecil Roth, The Spanish Inquisition, (New York Norton, 1964), p. 89. Eventually, after some years in prison, he was acquitted.

The time of the Reformation both on the Continent and in England could provide ample examples of vacillations and tergiversations by “Faculties of Theology.”

Thus, to maintain a climate for creativity and to do creative work is a fine balancing act; the result of many prudential judgments. The best one can say is that when a concrete case presents itself, it must be judged on its own merits—and those merits may significantly differ from one case to another. This is not to say that there should be no guidelines, but it is to say that not too much trust should be put into the guidelines.

The charism of the bishops and the task of the theologians

The crux of the problem is in the fact that the bishops’ charism, sustained by the Spirit, at least when they act in unity, is to witness God’s mighty deeds: “You are witnesses of these things" (Luke 24 48). (19)

19. A good definition of witnessing is “to testify that a thing is”; cf. Oxford Greek Dictionary, under martureo, n. 5, in order to remain close to the biblical language. But the same sense is found in the Oxford English Dictionary under witness: “attestation of a fact, event, or statement,” also “one who gives evidence in relation to matters of fact.”

The gift and task of the theologians is to find deeper insights; intellegere; that is, interlegere, to read what is not obvious, to find hidden meanings. (20) To witness is to identify; to identify is not necessarily to read in depth. To have the intelligence to find hidden meanings does not necessarily imply the support of the Spirit for identifying God’s deeds.

20. The task of the theologian can be beautifully described by quoting the meanings of intellegere as they are listed in the Oxford Latin Dictionary; all that one has to do is to refer the various mental activities to the Christian mysteries:

* To grasp mentally, understand, realize...
* to understand by inference, deduce....
* to supply mentally, understand (something that is not expressed)
* to discern, recognize, . . .
* to distinguish mentally, recognize as existing ...
* to understand the value of, appreciate ...
* to understand the meaning of (words or languages). . .
* to have or exercise powers of understanding.

From the point of view of epistemology it would make good sense to say that the primary focus of the bishops is to affirm the existence of the mysteries, the principal concentration of the theologians is to penetrate the meaning of the same mysteries as much as possible. (21)

21. This distinction, I think, is helpful for the understanding of the different functions, but it should not be pushed too far. No bishop can affirm the existence of the Christian mysteries without explaining their meaning, which always presupposes a certain amount of reflection. But the scientific (systematic and critical) exploration of the mysteries is not likely to be the primary focus of a bishop in his pastoral activity; he himself would regard it as a task better left to the theologians.

Obviously this distinction is no more than a philosophical approximation to a-reality which in many ways is beyond the reach of philosophy; still, it may shed some light on it. (22)

22. There have been many attempts to draw up rules and regulations that could help to resolve conflicts between bishops and theologians. Such rules, however, can offer hardly more than a limited service. First, because no norms can be so perfect as to anticipate the great variety of cases that are bound to arise; second, because the norms are regularly construed on the assumption that the conflicts originate in conceptual differences which can be resolved by appropriate logical exchanges—dialogues, that is.

In reality, the conflicts often originate on a deeper level: in the difference between the episcopal calling and the theological enterprise. Bishops are called (and have the charism) to witness to an existential fact: Christ is risen; the theologians are called (and have the learning) to give a reflective explanation of this fact: the resurrection means. . . It is easy to see that the one who proclaims the fact may become concerned that the other may explain it away; especially if the explanation cannot be easily understood.

Then there is the problem of bishops and theologians operating within different horizons (an epistemological issue that deserves more attention).

The theologians must rely on the testimony of the bishops about the word of God; the bishops may receive enlightenment from the systematic and critical work of the theologians.

Without the testimony of the bishops the theologians could not be certain what the word of God is; without the accumulated wisdom of theologians the bishop would know less about the meaning of the Word.

Dissent in the existential order

The difficulties would end here, were we living in a world (or a church) which is ruled by conceptual propositions and nothing else. But the real world is quite different. It is also a world of strong emotional dynamics and irrational options. All dissents, no matter how propositional, operate in such a world.

Moreover, those who are entrusted with the pastoral care of the community must take into account not only the intellectual propositions and exchanges, but also the waves they cause in the turbulent universe of human beings.

Thus, two more situations ought to be mentioned. One is when the propositional dissent of a theologian (without his ever intending it) in fact becomes a feeder to a deeper

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than it gets). Now, horizons can never be bridged by dialogues alone; since the meaning of a word depends not only on its content but on its place within a given horizon. (The same word can carry different meanings in different horizons.) If the parties in dialogue are not aware of this fact, at most, there will be endless talks coupled with polite tolerance but no meeting of minds and hearts. The passage from one horizon into another cannot be achieved by a new conceptual understanding; it is the surrender of the whole person to a new environment. Thomas Aquinas entered into the horizon of Aristotelian philosophy, and found new meanings in traditional Christian concepts. Etienne Tempier, the bishop of Paris, and the two successive Archbishops of Canterbury, Robert Kilwardby and John Peckham could never follow him—so they condemned or attacked him. I doubt any “dialogue” between the theologian and his hierarchical adversaries would have helped; only an intellectual conversion of the bishops could have brought mutual understanding and reconciliation.

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attitudinal dissent in others. I am not thinking here of causing a childish scandal, or of provoking a hypocritical protest on the part of those who cultivate their ignorance. I am speaking of concrete situations where the peace or unity of the church for some reason is seriously threatened, and, as a matter of fact, a reasonable act of dissent when perceived by others feeds into the dynamics of disruption and fragmentation. This is by no means a figment of imagination; for instance, in a country where there is an ongoing effort by the government to tear the church apart, a most legitimate act of disagreement may promote the disintegration of the community. Clearly, in such cases more is at stake than a propositional dissent; prudence requires a judgment that takes into account the existential situation of the community.

Another such a situation is when the propositional dissent itself springs from an internal breach of communion, or moves towards it; if that happens the issue is a much deeper one and eventually may cause serious disruptions in the community. If there is a remedy it is in a reconciliation on an equally deep level.

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examples speak for themselves.

Practical examples

After these theoretical reflections, let some practical examples speak for themselves.

(1) Let us assume for the sake of argument that the proposition “A sacramental and consummated marriage is indissoluble” is not infallibly defined (some theologians hold that it is, some hold that it is not). The ordinary official documents of the church certainly speak of it as indissoluble.

There comes a theologian who declares his dissent from the official teaching. The reaction of those in authority is a declaration that the person must not be taken for a Catholic theologian. How to judge this case?

The theologian should clarify his position further. If he means that the church has some radical power, in virtue of the power of the keys, to dissolve sacramental marriages, even consummated, but does not wish to use it in order to protect the common good, he would be saying only what has been said intermittently in the course of history (even at the Council of Trent) and is part of the teaching of the Orthodox church. If he means that any couple at any time can dissolve their marriage on their own authority and be free to wed again, then our theologian is contradicting a virtually uninterrupted tradition in the East and in the West; consequently, his opinion is at variance with the Catholic doctrine.

If the conflict between the theologian and the proper authority develops without the necessary subtle clarifications, the conflict is misplaced; it has erupted before the issues were properly defined. From such a conflict no light is likely to emerge.

(2) Let us suppose, again for the sake of argument, that in a given country abortions abound and they are on the rise. A theologian gets hold of the writings of Aquinas and finds the doctrine that the “animation” of the fetus occurs several weeks after its conception. From there he concludes and proclaims that the termination of pregnancy is permissible, provided it takes place before the animation. (The church never defined the time of animation.)

Yes, but there are other not so rational factors playing their part. Few of the citizens would be able to appreciate the philosophical finesse of the theory of Aquinas, or perceive how ill-suited his ideas are to explain the discoveries of modern biology. In the concrete order the argument of the theologian would simply add to the dynamics of the movement for abortions.

Have the ecclesiastical authorities the right to intervene, in spite of the fact that no infallible doctrine is denied? It seems that the authorities have the duty to intervene because the seemingly innocent theory feeds powerfully into the forces of destruction. The object of the pastoral care of the church is the concrete existential order of the world.

These examples should confirm what has been said before: whenever a concrete case of “dissent” presents itself, there is no one standard solution that can be applied with precision. We certainly have enough general principles to work with, but there are also particular circumstances, which make every case unique. It follows that the practical resolution of an individual case can come only through a unique prudential judgment. The way to such a judgment is through an effort to discover the correct hierarchy of values in the concrete circumstances of the case, and then do what is necessary to support the more important ones.

It is good to recall, however, that because our knowledge in assessing the objective facts and in judging the words and deeds of a person is always limited, most prudential judgments are not perfect; they are subject to correction, should new information reach us or should we come to better insights. Thus, in ordinary circumstances the zeal for the purity of the house of God should be tempered with the awareness of human fallibility.

With this the section on the response of the people is concluded.

In the following and last part I shall examine the role of the Catholic universities, since so much of the interplay between the teaching authority and the theological community takes place there.



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