By JOHN L. ALLEN JR.
New York
Catholics have long struggled to explain the difference between a confessional and a pulpit, or that what priests do in the sacrament of confession is different than what professors of moral theology do in seminar rooms, or what bishops do in TV interviews. The former is concerned with casuistry, or the application of moral norms to concrete situations, while the latter have to do with statements of abstract ethical principles.
That doesn’t mean, of course, that the relationship between the two is casual. Guidance in the confessional must be, and almost always is, driven by the Church’s moral teaching, but nevertheless confessors cannot be replaced by a computer program. Confessors have to work with penitents, taking them where they are, and gradually leading them to embrace the values the Church strives to protect.
By design, therefore, responses in confessionals do not simply echo public pronouncements. The confessional is the realm of subjective intent and pastoral understanding, not just rebuke. Yet with some regularity, that discrepancy is a cause of astonishment.
The latest case in point comes in Italy, where L’Espresso magazine sent a reporter into 24 churches in five Italian cities to confess sins he never committed, or to describe fictitious moral dilemmas, in order to find out what priests would say. In one of the most predictable findings in the history of investigatory journalism, what the priests said was often different than abstract statements of Church policy.
When the journalist told a priest that his father had been paralyzed for many years until a doctor finally allowed the family to discontinue the respirator, for example, the priest’s response was understanding.
“If I had a wife, a father or a son who for years was alive only because of artificial life support, I would pull the plug too,” he reportedly said, giving the reporter absolution.
In another case, the reporter faked being HIV positive and was reportedly told by a priest that whether he used a condom in order not to pass the virus to the woman he loved was “a very personal matter of conscience.”
Apart from abortion, which all 24 priests unanimously condemned, the reporter said he received conflicting advice on divorce, stem-cell research and prostitution.
One can certainly debate the counsel given in particular cases, but the fact that priests in a confessional take a more sympathetic and pastoral approach than one might find in the Catechism of the Catholic Church is, in fact, built into the church's system. It’s one of the reasons that the Vatican and other church officials issue statements which, because they’re so clear-cut, can sometimes sound harsh; they’re trying to make policy which must transcend differences of geography, language, and culture, realizing that the necessary human sympathy and flexibility will be applied one-on-one in the pastoral trenches.
It's undoubtedly true that some priests simply disagree with aspects of the church's official teaching, which also shouldn't shock anyone. But none of the quotes adduced actually involve a priest saying, "the church is wrong about x." Instead, they show priests acknowledging the agonies of a particular situation, or stating that some decisions have to be made in conscience. That's not dissent, but a matter of struggling to discern what a norm implies in a specific context, when conflicting values are often in play.
Perhaps one reason Catholics have had problems explaining this is that sometimes we don’t like to talk about it ourselves. For some Catholic conservatives, acknowledging a role for casuistry can sound like going soft on principles; for some liberals, admitting that the church has a pastoral side can blur their case for reform of its teachings.
(I can confirm this from personal experience. Shortly before the Vatican issued its document on admission of gays to seminaries in November 2005, I published an op/ed piece in the New York Times arguing that whatever else it might mean, it did not mean that in the future, no homosexual would ever be ordained a priest. Bishops and religious superiors, I said, would still make prudential judgments in individual cases. Some conservatives complained that I was encouraging disobedience, while some liberals said I was “apologizing” for the Vatican.)
In the end, some confessors may be too lax, and others may use the church’s moral code to bludgeon people, but most priests probably strive to strike an appropriate balance between fidelity to principles and understanding of complex human situations.
The L’Espresso piece has caused a sensation in Italy, which will likely ripple around the world; already this morning I’ve received calls from the BBC and German television about it. In part, this is because the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano denounced the story as “disgusting, unworthy, disrespectful and particularly offensive” because of the way the reporter manipulated the sanctity of the confessional for what it called an “ignoble scoop.”
One reason for concern, presumably, is that priests in the future might wonder if they're being "set up" when someone comes to them with a moral dilemma, potentially making them hesitant to really work with the person.
But whatever one makes of the journalistic method employed, to anyone who knows the Catholic church, I would submit that the only real surprise in the story is that it should surprise anybody.