True And False Obedience
Michael Davies
|
This will be the first of two articles based on a lecture which Michael Davies gave last month, August, 1983. The lecture dealt with a problem which traditional Catholics come across frequently in discussions with friends who are not traditionalists—that of obedience. Many good orthodox Catholics, priests and laity alike, appear to consider that obedience to those in authority is the supreme virtue. Mr. Davies shows, basing himself principally on St. Thomas Aquinas, that there are occasions on which a Catholic has a right to withhold obedience from a superior, and other occasions when doing so becomes a duty since "We ought to obey God rather than men." As well as explaining true Catholic principles of obedience, he applies them to two very topical practical instances: the use of the Tridentine Mass in the face of its prohibition by the bishops, and whether a parish priest can be justified in withdrawing from the jurisdiction of a manifestly uncatholic bishop to organize a parish outside the diocesan structures. We hope that our readers will ensure that these articles are circulated widely among any priests and lay people who are influenced by a concept of obedience which is, in fact, quite alien to the true Catholic tradition. |
THE PURPOSE and chief duty of our life here upon earth is to be "good"—to practice virtue. Saint Thomas tells us that a virtuous person is one whose life is governed by the habit of doing good works and that virtue, therefore, is the following or imitation of God. We follow God by practicing the four cardinal and three theological virtues. The cardinal virtues, you will recollect, are prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance. They are subordinate to the three theological virtues which relate directly to God: faith, hope and charity.
Those of you who were fortunate enough to learn the catechism will recollect that: "Faith is a supernatural gift of God, which enables us to believe without doubting whatever God has revealed." "Hope is a supernatural gift of God, by which we firmly trust that God will give us eternal life, and all the means necessary to obtain it, if we do what He requires of us." "Charity is a supernatural gift of God by which we love God above all things and our neighbor as ourselves for God's sake."
The Virtue of Charity
Just as the theological virtues take precedence over the cardinal virtues, so charity takes precedence over faith and hope. It is the greatest of all virtues, and so must be the principle by which we regulate our entire lives. Nothing can legitimately take precedence over the virtue of charity. In its essence, St. Thomas tells us, charity is the friendship of man for God; it consists of loving God above all things, and subjecting ourselves to Him entirely. This friendship for God is manifested in our lives by obedience to His Commandments: whatever is contrary to the commandments is contrary to charity. Charity is also manifested by love for our neighbor, we cannot love God without loving our neighbor for His sake. St. Thomas cites St. John to this effect: "And this commandment we have from God, that he who loveth God loveth also his brother" (I Jn 4:21). To love God and to love our neighbor for His sake is the same act.
|
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole mind, and with thy whole strength. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. |
These are the two great precepts of charity, and true obedience consists of following them. St. Thomas teaches us that a man who has charity has all the moral virtues.
God is the Source of All Authority
It is God's will that we should submit ourselves to those who exercise legitimate authority over us in Church and State, but in doing so we are simply submitting ourselves to Him, for all legitimate authority is exercised in His name.
Obedience
St. Thomas teaches that in any human society, some men must exercise authority over others or stability in human affairs would cease. Obedience to our legitimate superiors is due in accordance with the divinely established order of things. Obedience is the moral habit of carrying out the orders of our superiors with the precise intention of complying with their will. It comes under the heading of the cardinal virtue of justice, and is thus subordinate to the theological virtue of charity. Obedience to God comes before obedience to any human authority.
The Limits of Obedience
St. Thomas repudiates the idea that our obedience to any human authority must be unqualified. When we are ordered to do anything contrary to the law of God we have a duty to disobey. St. Thomas quotes Acts 5:29, in this respect: "We ought to obey God, rather than men."
St. Thomas lists a number of instances when we have a right, if not a duty, to withhold obedience. They are all endorsed by common sense; one does not need a specialized knowledge of legal theory to appreciate their validity.
A superior can only command within his sphere of authority. If the President of the United States, en route for his holiday home, broke down outside your door, he could not say: "Hi, I'm the President. I need a car. Give me yours." If he did so, you could reply: "I regret, Mr. President, that you do not have the authority to make such a demand." You might well use some more forthright American expression, which I would not even like to think about, but whatever form your refusal took, you would be acting perfectly within your rights.
However, if a war came, the President could lawfully command that your car be requisitioned for the armed forces, and it would be your duty to hand it over, possibly even with a smile. Similarly, a parent has no right to command his child to marry a particular person; a teacher has no right to command a pupil to follow a particular career; a bishop has no right to command you to support his favorite football team.
We are also not bound to obey a superior if we know that his command is contrary to the will of a higher authority. St. Thomas quotes a comment by St. Augustine to illustrate this:
|
Thus, if a bishop orders a parish priest to distribute Holy Communion under both kinds at his Sunday Masses, he has a duty to disobey because this has been forbidden by a higher authority, the Pope.
We are also not obliged to obey our superior if his command is unjust, even if he is acting within his sphere of authority and within the strict letter of the law. I seem to recollect that in 1773 the inhabitants of one of our more remote British colonies felt that King George III, their lawful sovereign, was imposing an unjust burden of taxation upon them, and, to show their displeasure, they dressed up as Indians and threw chests of tea into the sea. I must admit that I find this a somewhat eccentric manner of protesting against injustice, but we British have always found it hard to understand the way colonials behave.
St. Thomas, then, teaches that we are not bound to obey our superiors in all things; that we have the duty to withhold obedience when what he commands is against God; and that we have the right to withhold obedience:
1) if he is acting outside his lawful sphere of authority;
2) if he is acting contrary to the will of a legitimate higher authority;
3) if his command is unjust.
What is Justice?
This third case presents us with the necessity of defining "justice" and the "law." If we were to begin deciding what was just and unjust for ourselves on an indiscriminate basis then stability in human affairs would certainly cease. I have noted that citizens of the United States tend, in general, to complain vehemently about the price of gasoline, maintaining that the price they pay is manifestly unjust. Yet, in Britain, we pay at least three times what you do, in Ireland it must be four times more, and, I believe, in France it is five. We must not, therefore, let our ideas of what is unjust be too subjective.
St. Thomas defines justice as rendering each man his right. A man is said to be just because he respects the rights of others, and is in the habit of rendering each man his due.
What is Law?
This brings us to the subject of law, confining ourselves, of course, to human law. Where the divine or eternal law is concerned there can never by any question of injustice or withholding obedience. The object of human law is to be useful to man. It must be ordained for the common good, that is, for the benefit of the community for which it is promulgated. St. Thomas defines law as: "An ordinance of reason for the common good, made by him who has the care of the community, and promulgated." Thus for a law to be just it must be
a) reasonable,
b) for the common good,
c) come from a lawful superior,
d) be properly promulgated.
These principles apply equally to Church and State, in fact, one could rightly expect to see a far greater concern for their implementation in ecclesiastical legislation. Injustice in the State is deplorable, in the Church it is scandalous—scandalous in the sense denounced by Our Lord.
St. Thomas teaches that just laws are binding in conscience because they are derived from the eternal law of God, and because those who exercise legitimate authority do so as delegates of God. Pope Leo XIII made the same point in his Encyclical, Libertas Humana: "Lawful power is from God, and whosoever resisteth authority resisteth the ordinance of God."
Unjust Laws
An unjust law has no binding force. It is, in fact, no law at all as the force of a law depends on the extent of its justice. Similarly, a tyrannical law is not a true law at all, but a perversion of the law. A law is unjust if it is too burdensome upon those subjected to it, or if it is not conducive to the common good. Such legislation is an act of violence rather than a law. This is because the power a man holds from God does not extend to imposing unjust hurt upon his subjects. The consensus of Catholic theologians and canonists is that the legislator should not simply refrain from demanding something his subjects would find impossible to carry out, but that laws should not be too difficult or distressing for those subjected to them. Furthermore, a superior should not promulgate a large number of laws. No one is bound to do the impossible, and if a superior promulgates too many laws and lays them upon his subjects, so that they are unable to fulfil them, they are excused from sin.
These principles are, as I have already mentioned, universal. They apply equally to criminal law, civil law, canon law, and liturgical law. They are particularly relevant to the liturgical legislation which has followed the Second Vatican Council. I feel fairly confident that I am not the only Catholic who has found the wholesale abolition of the old and the wholesale imposition of the new burdensome. I have found the new liturgical legislation difficult and distressing enough to constitute an unjust hurt in my own case at least. One good friend of mine committed suicide. I know dozens of fine Catholics whose hearts have been broken, and whose lives have been reduced to perpetual misery through the deprivation of the liturgical rites which had been the mainstay of their spiritual lives. I know fine priests who have retired rather than utilize the new liturgy—what a cruel conclusion to lives dedicated to the Church. I know others who have submitted to the new laws, as an act of almost heroic sacrifice, and each celebration on each new day is a source of misery and bitterness. Has the legislation been for the common good? By its fruits ye shall know it. Look around you at the average parish today, look at the universal banality, widespread anarchy, frequent irreverence and declining Mass attendance. The Pope himself has felt it necessary to offer us an apology. Would we not be justified in claiming that this legislation has been distressing to the point of being impossible for many of its subjects to carry out? It's just a thought, but a somewhat interesting one. And as for not promulgating too many laws, a collection of Vatican documents on the liturgy published in 1978 contained 300 documents—89 of these had been issued prior to Vatican II and 211 since. Five years have passed since 1978, and this number has expanded considerably.
When Should Laws be Changed?
Please keep the post-conciliar liturgical revolution in mind while we examined the opinion of St. Thomas on when laws should be changed. The essence of his answer is that this should be done only in cases of absolute necessity. Answering an objection that legislation should be continually changed for the better as time goes on, he replied:
On the contrary, it is stated in the Decretals, "It is absurd, and a detestable shame, that we should suffer those traditions to be changed which we received from the fathers of old."
I answer that human law is rightly changed, in so far as such change is conducive to the common good. But, to a certain extent, the mere change of law is of itself prejudicial to the common good: because custom avails much for the observance of laws, seeing that what is done contrary to general custom, even in slight matters, is looked upon as grave. Consequently, when a law is changed the binding power of the law is diminished, in so far as custom is abolished. Wherefore human law should never be changed, unless, in some way or other, the common good be compensated according to the extent of the harm done in this respect. Such compensation may arise either from some very great and very evident benefit conferred by the new enactment; or from the extreme urgency of the case, due to the fact that either the existing law is clearly unjust or its observance harmful. Wherefore the jurist says that in establishing new laws, there should be evidence of the benefit to be derived, before departing from a law which has long been considered just.
Well, it would be hard to convince me that the use of the Tridentine Mass was harmful, and that the harm done by the abolition of this immemorial custom has in any way been compensated for by any evident benefit to the common good. It is also manifest that no attempt was made to prove that benefit would be derived from the changes before abolishing the traditional Mass. Would it, for example, have been unreasonable for those in authority to test the effect of the new Mass in, say, one or two dioceses in each country for at least five years before imposing it universally in place of a venerable rite dating back in all essentials to the pontificate of St. Gregory the Great?
St. Thomas also answered the objection that custom cannot obtain force of law, quoting St. Augustine to refute this claim:
On the contrary, Augustine says: "The customs of God's people and the institutions of our ancestors are to be considered as laws. And those who throw contempt on the customs of the Church ought to be punished as those who disobey the law of God."
Professor Johannes Wagner, Director of the Liturgical Institute of Treves, echoed these sentiments when he wrote: "History has proved a thousand times that nothing is more dangerous for a religion, nothing is more likely to result in discontent, incertitude, division and apostasy than interference with the liturgy, and consequently with religious sensibility." He wrote this in 1967; look around you today—do you not see "discontent, incertitude, division and apostasy"? Professor James Hitchcock reached the same conclusion in his book The Recovery of the Sacred: "The manipulation of sacred symbols to give increased meaning to the liturgy tends instead to destroy is meaning, and alienate the participants from the Church's worship."
When Can We Withhold Obedience?
At this point it would be useful to remind ourselves of the occasions when we can lawfully withhold obedience from a superior. They are:
1) If the command is contrary to the eternal law of God;
2) If it is contrary to the will of some higher human authority;
3) If the superior is acting outside his sphere of authority;
4) If the command is unjust, that is:
a) not conducive to the common good,
b) unreasonable, burdensome, distressing,
c) not properly promulgated.
Do These Principles Apply to Prelates?
I can imagine some very sincere Catholic objecting that the principles I have been outlining cannot possibly be applied within the Church, particularly when we receive a command from a bishop and above all the Pope acting within the sphere of authority. I am sure that no one here would be naive enough to claim that we have any obligation to obey either the bishops or the Pope when they are acting outside their proper sphere of authority. As things are in the United States at the moment, some bishops appear to act only outside this sphere, and are continually exhorting the faithful to involve themselves in various forms of social activism—perhaps socialist activism might be a better word. Thus if Archbishop Hunthausen tells the faithful in Seattle to demonstrate against the arrival of a nuclear submarine in that port, they would be quite entitled to decline politely. I would not even blame them if their reply was not polite. If the Pope asked us to boycott all Polish goods until trade unionists in that country were allowed to organize freely, we would be under no obligation to do this. We might well decide to respond to his request as an act of personal loyalty, but this would be a matter of free choice and not an obligation.
But what if a prelate remains within his sphere of competence, and not acting in formal violation of Canon Law, some would argue, we could never have grounds for withholding our obedience. On the contrary, those who rule in the Church are bound by the same principles of justice as those who rule in the State, and, as I remarked earlier one might reasonably expect respect for justice to be at its highest within the Church. Prelates are invested with their authority for the good of the Church, to build up the Mystical Body of Christ. When their actions have the opposite effect, then they lose the right to our obedience. The principal objective of this talk will be to examine the extent to which we owe obedience to a diocesan bishop whose actions are harming the Church, one diocesan bishop in particular. But before turning to the subject of such bishops, and the emergence of a schismatic American Church, I shall illustrate our right to withdraw obedience from prelates by taking the case of the Pope. This is not because I wish to incite you to rebel against the Holy Father, but because, clearly, if there are circumstances when we can withdraw obedience from the Pope, then there are certainly cases when we can withdraw our obedience from diocesan bishops.
During the debate on papal infallibility at the First Vatican Council, there was considerable anxiety about the possible effects of defining the Pope's power of absolute jurisdiction over the entire Church. The Dogmatic Constitution, Pastor Aeternus, refers to this power of jurisdiction in the following terms:
Regarding this jurisdiction, the shepherds of whatever rite and dignity, and the faithful, individually and collectively, are bound by the duty of hierarchical subjection and of sincere obedience; and this not only in matters that pertain to faith and morals, but also in matters that pertain to the discipline of the Church throughout the whole world.
Those who feared the possible consequences of this declaration were assured that absolute power did not mean arbitrary power, that is, the Pope does not possess this power to use in accordance with his every whim, but solely to build up the Body of Christ, and never for its destruction. We can thus distinguish between a legal right and a moral right. Rather than bore you with a theoretical explanation I will give you an example I have cited in several of my books, that of Robert Grosseteste, a thirteenth-century Bishop of Lincoln, and possibly the greatest Catholic England has ever known. Pope Innocent IV had adopted the practice of appointing his relatives to ecclesiastical posts in a number of countries to provide them with an income so that he would not have to do so. These men did not so much as visit the countries where their appointments had been made, and were interested only in obtaining the revenue. Bishop Grosseteste objected on two grounds: firstly, because the task of a pastor is to care for his flock—which they could hardly do while they were living in Italy; and, secondly, because the long term effect such a policy must have upon the Church. When the Pope appointed his nephew to a canonry in Lincoln Cathedral, Bishop Grosseteste refused to obey. Please note carefully that the Pope was acting within Canon Law. He had every right to appoint any man he pleased to any clerical office he pleased anywhere within the Church. If, as is possible, Pope John Paul II has a nephew who is a humble young curate in some obscure Polish village, a man of no academic distinction who does not speak a word of English, he could fly him over to the United States tomorrow, have him consecrated, and then appointed as Cardinal Archbishop of Chicago, in place of Cardinal Bernardin—which might not be an entirely bad thing. This demonstrates the extent of the Pope's power of jurisdiction. Here is Bishop Grosseteste's reply to Pope Innocent IV. I cannot imagine a single sincere Catholic who would condemn him for it:
Because of the obedience by which I am bound, and of my love of my union with the Holy See in the Body of Christ, as an obedient son I disobey, I contradict, I rebel. You cannot take action against me for my every word and act is not rebellion but filial honor due by God's command to father and mother. As I have said, the Apostolic See in its holiness cannot destroy, it can only build. This is what the plenitude of power means.
There have, alas, been many cases of popes abusing their power, and countless cases of bishops doing so. There have also been frequent instances of good Catholics resisting such abuses of power, not from disloyalty, but because their love of and loyalty to the Church was such that they were willing to incur the wrath of their superiors if necessary. Pope Innocent IV, by the way, was pretty wrathful about Bishop Grosseteste. His first impulse was to order the king of England to imprison the bishop, but his cardinals, who were wily men, as has often been the case, gave him some sound practical advice—which he was wise enough to take. Their very words were put on record: "You cannot take action against me," the bishop had said. The cardinals agreed:
You must do nothing. It is true. We cannot condemn him. He is a Catholic and a holy man, a better man than we are. He has not got his equal among the prelates. All the French and English clergy know this and our contradiction would be of no avail. The truth of this letter, which is probably known to many, might move many against us.
I hope that I have made the distinction between the legal and moral right sufficiently clear. Those invested with authority have responsibilities as well as rights. Countless "legal" abortions are performed in the U.S.A. each year, but each one is a moral abomination.
Having raised the subject of the liturgy I will cite two brief instances of popes attempting to impose unreasonable, burdensome or distressing laws upon their subjects, laws which were rightly resisted. In the second century, Pope St. Victor attempted to make the Eastern Churches conform to the Roman custom of reckoning Easter. They preferred to uphold their own customs, and so the pope excommunicated them. St. Iraeneus persuaded the Pope to revoke this excommunication as it did not involve a matter of faith. He accepted that the Pope had acted within his legal competence, but that more harm than good would come of insisting upon the excommunication. Similarly, the people of Milan resisted the attempts of at least three popes to impose the Roman rite upon them. The diocese of Milan has its own liturgy, the Ambrosian rite. The Milanese people went to the extent of taking up arms to defend their traditions, and prevailed.
The Teaching of St. Thomas
St. Thomas tells us that if a prelate gave a command contrary to divine precept, the person obeying would sin equally with the prelate who gave the order. Where the faith is endangered, it is even legitimate to rebuke a prelate in public, and he illustrates this with an example of a public rebuke given to a pope, to the first pope, St. Peter:
Paul, who was Peter's subject, rebuked him in public, on account of the imminent danger of scandal concerning the faith, and, as the gloss of St. Augustine says on Gal. 2:11, "Peter gave an example to superiors, that if at any time they should happen to stray from the straight path, they should not disdain to be reproved by their subjects."
St. Catherine of Siena was a lady who did not hesitate to rebuke popes who strayed from the right path!
I had better repeat that I am not attempting to foment a rebellion against the Pope. I am simply trying to establish the principle that if the pope can misuse his authority, and even merit public rebuke, so can a diocesan bishop, and as St. Thomas has explained, obedience to a command which could harm the faith is sinful. It is a fact of history that most members of any society prefer to submit to an unjust command given by a superior rather than cause themselves inconvenience, let alone endanger their lives. Stalwart souls such as those who dress up as red Indians and throw tea chests into the sea are an exception. Look at the English bishops during the reign of Henry VIII. "I'm the head of the Church in this country," said the King. "Yes sir," replied the bishops, "no one's arguing with you!" Only one bishop did, as you well know, and he was beheaded. Before St. John Fisher died he remarked, "The fort is betrayed even of them that should have defended it," and he was right. I feel that American Catholics could well apply this judgment to their own bishops, and they weren't even threatened with execution—just an unfavorable editorial in the National Catholic Reporter or the New York Times.
Cardinal Newman on Obedience
Before concluding the first part of this article, I must say a little more upon the question of withholding obedience to a papal command. This is certainly not something to be contemplated lightly, and I would not like to leave you with the impression that I think it is. Let me quote Cardinal Newman upon the subject, the comments I will give you come from his essay upon The Difficulties of Anglicans. The Cardinal first observes that a conflict between conscience and the Pope's authority is possible only outside the sphere of faith or morals, a point which I have already made. It can happen: "only when the Pope legislates or gives particular orders, and the like. But a pope is not infallible in his laws, nor in his commands, nor in his acts of state, nor in his administration, nor in his public policy." Furthermore, we must always approach such a possible conflict with the presumption that the Pope is right and we are wrong. The onus probandi, the duty of establishing a case against him, is on the side of conscience, not with the Pope. To resist a Pope is a fearful step for a Catholic, with serious consequences for our immortal souls: "Unless a man is able to say to himself," explains the Cardinal, "as in the presence of God, that he must not, and dare not, act upon the papal injunction, he is bound to obey it, and would commit a great sin by disobeying it." But, the Cardinal insists, our paramount obligation is to follow our conscience, after taking every possible step to ensure that it is a properly informed conscience. And if a man is sincerely convinced that "what his superior commands is displeasing to God, he is bound not to obey." The Cardinal adds that: "The word 'superior' certainly includes the Pope." In such cases the great Cardinal has no doubt as to where our duty lies—and quotes an authoritative work by Cardinal Jacobatius to illustrate his point:
If it were doubtful whether a precept (of a Pope) be a sin or not, we must determine thus: that, if he to whom the precept is addressed has a conscientious sense that it is sin and an injustice, first it is his duty to put off that sense; but, if he cannot, nor conform himself to the judgment of the Pope, in that case it is his duty to follow his own private conscience, and patiently to bear it if the Pope punishes him.
True and False Obedience
I hope that this examination of true Catholic principles of obedience has been adequate to make the position clear. Charity, the love of God above all things, and subjecting ourselves to Him entirely is our first duty. Although obedience to our superiors in Church and State is normally a virtue and a duty if we are convinced in conscience that a particular command is displeasing to God, that it puts the faith in imminent danger, then we have a duty to disobey. If it is manifestly unjust we have a right to obey. St. Thomas described the attitude of those who submit to every command of a superior, even unlawful commands, as one of "indiscreet obedience." Surely, after the Nuremberg trials, the excuse, "I was only obeying orders," has lost all credibility. Almost all the English clergy under Henry VIII followed the example of their compromising bishops, they took the easy way out, they were guilty of indiscreet obedience. Indiscreet obedience—I shall call it false obedience—results in compromise. One compromise leads to another, and eventually to complete moral capitulation—which brings me at last to the subject of the schismatic American Church.
—To be concluded in our next issue—
Current Issue
