PRUDENCE IS NO EXCUSE

by James Hitchcock

The moral ambiguity of all things human means, finally, that every path in life leads both to heaven and to hell, serving as either the means of salvation or the machinery of damnation. As classical spirituality has always recognized, this is perhaps especially true of the priestly and religious states, paths which are well-marked roads to salvation but which for that very reason contain their own hidden or not-so-hidden snares. To those to whom much is given, from them much is expected.

Perhaps inherently dangerous to the clerical office in all ages are pride and arrogance, the temptation to be not the servant of the servants of God but a successful careerist who basks in the satisfactions of having succeeded in one’s profession. The custom of congratulating priests on their promotions is too humanly understandable to be dispensed with, but it would perhaps be more appropriate to extend to them a certain sympathy, even condolence, because of the awful burdens being laid upon their shoulders.

Until fairly modern times, wealth was a temptation especially dangerous to high church officials, who almost routinely used those offices to amass personal fortunes, live in luxury, even to pass their fortunes on to their relatives.

Political influence was, until long after the Council of Trent, another snare, in that it was usually priests with ties to powerful princes who got promoted in the Church, service to secular lords often a more important qualification for ecclesiastical office than piety, learning, or zeal.

But God brings good out of evil, and the upheaval of the French Revolution had a purifying affect on the clergy, eliminating many of these blandishments. Eventually the disestablishment of the Church everywhere enabled it, for the first time since the days of Constantine, to choose bishops solely for their merits. Although standards of clerical behavior have slipped noticeably in the past forty years, bishops who lead openly scandalous lives have long been rare.

However, each age is fated to develop its own distinctive moral failures, and today the exercise of the episcopal office is marked by a paradox — while the hierarchy are civilly free to govern the Church entirely in accord with its doctrines, without having to answer to any political authorities, many bishops are unwilling to do so, restrained by internalized inhibitions on the full exercise of their offices. 

Two facts of modern life account for this paralyzed caution. One is ubiquitous publicity, generated by media which are usually uncomprehending or even hostile to Catholic beliefs, so that a forthrightly orthodox bishop who defends the Church’s most controversial teachings can expect to be publicly vilified. The other is fear of division within the Church, the estimate, often justified, that a strong defense of controversial doctrines will lead to increased conflict and polarization, possibly even to schism. 

Hence today the preferred model of a good bishop is in some ways a negative one — he is not controversial, thus enjoys a good press, and keeps peace in his diocese. These can be good in themselves, but they are usually bought at a great price, which is having to ignore all but the most extreme deviations from official doctrine and practice, not infrequently failing even to instruct the flock adequately in authentic Catholic doctrine. 

Caution has a legitimate place in the hierarchy of virtues, as a manifestation of prudence. But prudence is only one of the four cardinal virtues, and its classical meaning is not caution but a wise assessment of what is appropriate in a particular situation in order to give proper weight to all the virtues. The opposite of prudence is the kind of moral heresy in which one or other virtue is cultivated at the expense of the rest. Thus excessive prudence actually subverts prudence. 

A misguided understanding of prudence seems at present to be common among bishops. Praise is routinely bestowed on those who act on this misunderstanding, and many of appointments of the Holy See suggest that it is precisely “prudent” men in this sense who are deemed suitable for office. 

The long list of canonized bishops shows a disproportionate number who were martyred or otherwise suffered severely for their faith. But conventional wisdom now has a difficult time even understanding such a thing, much less emulating it, as the good bishop is defined as one who is able to finesse conflict and blur controversial issues so as not to arouse antagonisms.

The unwillingness of most bishops to discipline priests and religious is the crucial instance of this. Many people (including the occasional bishop) who hold ecclesiastical offices use those offices to undermine other people’s faith — calling defined beliefs into question, profaning holy things, even encouraging sin by rationalizing particular sins and generally promoting a lax morality. 

The Catholic moral tradition is unmistakable on this matter — prudence can never excuse acquiescence in evil. The principle “Justice must be done though the heavens fall” has its counterpart in the principle that it is never permissible to commit even a venial sin for the sake of some supposed greater good. Those who justify flagrant abuses in the Church by appealing to the good of ecclesiastical unity are departing from the Church’s own consistent moral tradition, offering a rationale for which there are no authentic Catholic precedents.

Usually without recognizing it, some bishops today have in effect adopted Pragmatism as their official philosophy — what seems to work in a given situation, in the sense that it helps the institution run more smoothly, is what should be done, questions of doctrine treated as irrelevant distractions. Linked with this is the practice of another unacknowledged philosophy which the Church officially rejects — proportionalism, by which Church leaders make “trade offs,” tolerating or even condoning abuses as the price of the apparent greater good of unity. 

Throughout the history of the Church its leaders have often acted according to distorted moral principles, usually for the sake of immediate political or institutional goals. What is distinctive about the present age is the way in which this habit passively or actively undermines the very heart of Catholic belief and practice.

James Hitchcock is professor of history at Saint Louis University and a regular columnist for Catholic Dossier.

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