Punishing dissent: coralling theologians, containing bishops.

Pope John Paul II signed an apostolic letter on May 18, 1998, titled Ad tuendam fidem, "To Defend the Faith." The terse letter, which was given motu proprio (on his own initiative), made two minor changes in the church's two governing books of canons, the 1983 Code of Canon Law for the Latin church and the 1990 Code of Canons of the Eastern Churches.

The letter inserted into the canons a category of "definitively proposed" teachings about faith or morals which must be "accepted and held," and a provision to permit the punishment of anyone who "pertinaciously rejects" such teachings and fails to make a retraction after being admonished to do so. The precise punishment is not specified, but excommunication is not excluded.

The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) articulated this category of doctrines in 1989 as a part of a new formula for the profession of faith which some categories of officials, for example, cardinals, bishops, pastors, deacons, and seminary professors, are canonically required to make when first assuming office. These doctrines are not those revealed by God and taught by the church as revealed, but are those which the church's teaching authority considers to be connected to God's revealed truths so closely that they are required in order to safeguard or expound those revealed truths.

Even though this category of teachings has been included in the official profession of faith since 1989, it had not been included in the church's canons, and, more importantly, the rejection of these teachings was not a punishable offense until now.

Three things are especially worthy of note about this little letter: (1) the exercise of rule-making authority, (2) the canonical enforcement of faith, and (3) the content of this category of teaching.

First, nowhere is the raw monarchical authority of the modern papacy more clearly revealed than in this sort of legislative action. The pope, with a stroke of his pen, can and did change the law for the entire Roman Catholic church, without a gesture toward collegiality or an attempt at consultation. He is not deemed unicus legislator for the whole church in the canons, but that is the way he is free to act.

Second, Pope John Paul II, despite his philosophical background and his writing on the "splendor of truth," has already left a legacy of these attempts to enforce an expanded scope of faith-related teachings by juridical means:

* He added a punitive provision to the 1983 Code so that those who disagreed with even nondefinitive teachings could be penalized. This provision had no parallel in the 1917 Code, nor was it recommended by those who worked on the code's revision for fifteen years. It was one of changes the pope made in the canons after they were turned over to him in 1982.

* The pope approved on September 19, 1989, the new formula for the profession of faith which the CDF had already made public on January 9 of that year. This is the formula which he added to the canons and reinforced with a penalty by this recent letter.

* The pope, on May 30, 1997, specifically granted to the CDF an exception to the canons which permits the Congregation to declare the excommunication of someone it judges to be guilty of heresy, based on its own internal regulations, without giving that person the benefit of the ordinary canonical penal procedures, for example, access to evidence and representation by counsel. Initiating a penal trial after the Congregation had reached its conclusions was seen to be "pure and unjustified juridical formalism."

Third, what is the content of this category of doctrines which are now canonically enforced? The CDF offered a short list of examples of those noninfallible truths which are so connected to divine revelation, either historically or logically, that they must be given firm and definitive assent by all of the faithful: the infallibility and primacy of jurisdiction of the pope before they were defined at the First Vatican Council, the reservation of priestly ordination to men, the illicitness of euthanasia, the illicitness of prostitution and fornication, the legitimacy of the election of the pope or of the celebration of an ecumenical council, the canonization of saints, the declaration of the invalidity of Anglican ordinations.

At another time a list of the same category of teachings might have included: the existence of limbo, the permissibility of slavery, the illicitness of lending money at interest, the episcopacy as a dignity but not a part of the sacrament of orders, the coercion of religious observance by the state.

No one needs to ask for whom this letter was intended. In the opening sentence the pope states that it is "to defend the faith of the Catholic church against errors arising from some of the Christian faithful, especially those engaged in the study of theological disciplines."

In the fall of 1993, I made a memorable first trip to Prague. One of the high points was a concelebrated Mass in the cathedral on the feast of Saint Wenceslaus, the patron of Bohemia. The main presider and preacher was Archbishop Miloslav Vlk of Prague.

The archbishop embodied a personal authority that went beyond the ecclesial office he held. He had been prevented from exercising his ministry during the Communist regime and had worked for many years as a window washer. During the years of persecution, the archbishop had offered his people an impressive witness of integrity and commitment. As he stood in the cathedral on that late September day, preaching with crozier in hand, I imagined I saw a squeegee attached to the end of the crook, an image that only enhanced his authority.

It was with some disappointment, then, that I read the remarks attributed to the now Cardinal Vlk, during the presentation to the press of Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter Apostolos suos ("The Theological and Juridical Nature of Episcopal Conferences"). As reported in the New York Times, Cardinal Vlk, referring to Rome, insisted: "Creativity can be found here - this is the place for creativity."

Now, one certainly gives grateful assent to the distinctive Catholic belief in the special ministry of the See of Peter. And one acknowledges, among other debts, the providential role Rome played in preventing the Eastern European Communist dictatorships from fracturing the unity of the church into so many state-controlled organizations. But does it follow that there is no room for creativity save on Tiber's shore? Or that the Creator Spirit only blows south of the Alps?

In the same press conference, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (who seems to be working overtime this summer) is quoted as saying: "Truth is not determined by a majority vote." This is, of course, true, even though it's a cliche; but it does not answer the further question: "How, then, is truth determined?" And that further question might be the beginning of a fruitful conversation, not the end of all discussion.

One would think that the determination of spiritual truth requires a profoundly spiritual discernment. And, though that is not necessarily equatable with a majority vote, it would seem to require the widest possible consultation among the spiritually experienced and mature. Indeed, such consultation of the faithful seems a moral imperative.

Perhaps the spirituality of Saint Benedict can offer guidance. In the rule, the abbot is instructed that before making a decision that will affect all in the monastery, he is to convene the monks and ask their advice. Then, in a striking insight, Benedict continues: Let the abbot pay particular heed to the views of the young, for it is often the way of the Holy Spirit to speak through the young (see, Rule of Saint Benedict, ch. 3).

At the beginning of our troubled century, the Catholic theologian and spiritual guide, Baron Friedrich von Hugel, reflected upon the Petrine, Pauline, and Johannine functions within the church, associating them, respectively, with its institutional, intellectual, and mystical elements. He insisted that all three were indispensable, but that they had to be kept in creative tension for the spiritual well-being of the Body of Christ.

Now, as the century nears its end, a series of edicts from Rome seems to many to stress once again, in almost exclusive fashion, the institutional and juridical element. Whether, in God's Providence, this is what the coming third millennium requires should be a matter of prayerful discernment on the part of "liberals" and "conservatives" alike. I, for one, would tend to the view of Alasdair Macintyre in After Virtue that our great spiritual need is, rather, for a new, doubtless different, Benedict.

JAMES A. CORIDEN is a priest of the Diocese of Gary and professor of church law at Washington Theological Union.

ROBERT P. IMBELLI is a priest of the Archdiocese of New York and teaches theology at Boston College.