In 1870 the bishops of the world gathered in Rome for the First Vatican Council debated whether to define Papal infallibility as a dogma of the Church. During the course of the debate a Frenchman, Bishop Verot – a Gallican and so very much against the proposed definition – directed this jibe at the Irish bishops who were very much in the opposite camp:
“It is true that the Irish believe in the Pope’s infallibility; but they also believe in their priests’ infallibility – and not only do they believe it, but they beat with sticks any who deny it. But will the Cardinal of Dublin say that they believe Hadrian IV was infallible when he handed over Ireland to the King of England!”
Clearly Irish clericalism was alive and well in 1870. The feature of clericalism – of which there are probably many – picked up by Bishop Verot is an undue deference by the faithful to the hierarchy. It might be a little bit of a caricature to say that the Irish treated everything coming from the clergy as if it were sealed with a kind of papal infallibility, but clearly there is something in this. But this is no longer a problem here in Ireland. If anything a new dogma exists to the effect that everything and anything said by a member of the clergy (and especially if that cleric is a bishop) is ipso facto erroneous! Certainly one sees a lot of “venting” on social media about the words and actions of members of the hierarchy – not just here in Ireland, but everywhere it seems to me. What should be the position of a faithful Catholic regarding criticism of the hierarchy. Should he maintain a deferential silence à la nineteenth century Ireland, or should he tweet at will? Canon Law itself is clear that the faithful need not be silent in the face of what they see as errors on the part of the hierarchy:
“According to the knowledge, competence, and prestige which they [the Christian faithful] possess, they have the right and even at times the duty to manifest to the sacred pastors their opinion on matters which pertain to the good of the Church and to make their opinion known to the rest of the Christian faithful, without prejudice to the integrity of faith and morals, with reverence toward their pastors, and attentive to common advantage and the dignity of persons” (Code of Canon Law #212 §3).
So Canon Law suggests that it is laudable – even a duty – to send a letter to the local bishop if he comes out with a statement that seems funny to you, or to buttonhole your local parish priest if his Sunday homily has strayed from the “straight and narrow” … and you can even tweet your friends to this effect. But please note that the Canon finishes by admonishing that this must be done “with reverence toward their pastors, and attentive to common advantage and the dignity of persons [italics mine].” What is not envisaged here are stinging denunciations devoid of respect for the person – a fellow human being – or lacking in respect for their office.
To do otherwise is to damage the unity of the Church, the one mark of the Church for which Christ prayed in Gethsemane. In what must have been the most intense and fervent prayer during his thirty-three years on earth, Christ prayed most assiduously for one thing: the unity of Christians. His prayer was that “all of them may be one” (John 17:21). For Our Lord everything appears to hang on unity. If we Christians are united with one another we will embody Christ’s unity with the Father – and as such will be a sign – a “sacrament” – of God’s love for the world. Christ gives no other touchstone of the Christian than the love they have for one another: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13: 34-35). No other quality marks out his disciples: not even moral or doctrinal rectitude.