Pastoral Life and Catholic Doctrine

by Archbishop John Joseph Myers

It is a pleasure and a privilege for me to be able to address the Fellowship of Catholic Scholars here in Philadelphia. My sense of the honor you have conferred on me is heightened by a recognition of the importance of the theme you have chosen for consideration this year. The theme of the doctrinal basis of pastoral life goes to the very heart of many contemporary concerns and yet embraces areas of diverse interest and significance. In that sense, it is a properly Catholic theme, and it shall be treated during these days, I am confident, with loyalty to the living tradition of Christ's Church. I personally dare speak to you this evening not because I pretend to scholarship, but because as a pastor in the Church, I share many of your concerns. I am convinced that the crisis in the academy and the crisis in our pastoral life are intimately related.

1. What does it mean to be "pastoral"? This term is often used but seldom, if ever, does one find it defined. Considering the documents of the Second Vatican Council it is clear that "pastoral" has to do with timely topics which are considered with concern for their impact on people's lives. The Council and subsequent documents when speaking of the pastoral office mention the munus docendi, the munus sanctificandi and the munus regendi.[1] One might add caring for the poor and for those with particular physical, emotional or spiritual needs. Some go further. For them "pastoral" has come to mean "making people feel good." It is this meaning which provokes concern. One is reminded of the comments of the retiring Bishop of Wernersburgh in Russell Shaw's witty novel, Renewal.

"We're expected to be pastoral today." He pronounced the word with distaste, like a man naming a nasty disease. Do you know what being pastoral means? It means forming bad consciences. It means telling people they haven't sinned when they have, excusing their sins without insisting they give them up. It means risking peoples' damnation, but doing it gently with guitars and the kiss of peace.[2]

One need not agree with the acerbic bishop's opinion about the kiss of peace or the use of guitars to share the thought that being pastoral is not immediately directed to making people "feel good now." Surely, compassion, genuine listening and caring must always be a part of pastoral practice. But the contemporary notion that this means invariably presenting things which people find immediately affirming and easy to deal with is shallow, short-sighted and dishonest as well as ultimately destructive for them.

Implicit in this approach to pastoral care is the notion that the Gospel and Church teaching can be and should be changed to suit individuals—with their subjective understanding and their own cultural identity—rather than be presented as the source and power by which a person can be totally transformed in Christ. Such "pastors" would rather conform to the categories of this age rather than challenge their flocks to conversion to the truth. Is this not what Paul warned against when he wrote to the Romans:

Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, so that you may judge what is God's Will, what is good, pleasing and perfect." (Romans 12:2)

Paul's admonishment was recently reiterated by the Holy Father in a speech to a group of Brazilian Bishops during their ad limina visit. John Paul II explained that evangelization means adapting people to the Gospel rather than modifying the Gospel to fit the needs of contemporary society. Spreading the Gospel around the world means changing people's ways of thinking and living. The Pope stated,

It is not the Gospel that will have to be adapted to the times and the current needs of humanity. On the contrary, we are dealing with placing the life of one and all in contact with the ancient but always new thing called the Gospel.[3]

Thus, pastors who fail to call their people to conversion deprive them of an opportunity for life—giving contact with the God who has revealed Himself and shared Himself in Jesus Christ. Admirably sensitive to anguish and pain, these "pastors" seek to love by accommodating the difficult and challenging truth. Aware of their own weakness, they fail to recognize that the truth being taught is not theirs but the Word of God.

This is not simply a theoretical issue. The individual's own conscience, however poorly formed, is often declared by pastoral personnel to be the ultimate point of reference. Search your memory, if you will, for instances of which you are aware. Sexual mores, marital situations, being pro-abortion, contraceptive lifestyle, gross consumerism, a shallow and almost meaningless understanding of the sacraments, an incorrect democratic understanding of the nature of our Church . . . all find practical expression today. This is a pastoral tragedy, in my judgment.

The motive given for this pastoral accommodation is often presented in lofty words. "All the baptized share wisdom in the Spirit. Adults must take their own experience seriously. God speaks to all sincere people in their hearts and minds. How can we presume to challenge their understanding of their lives, their perception of the truth? People give their own meaning to their actions." And the list could go on and on. As we know, such statements are often the result of a mistaken understanding of Divine Revelation and of epistemology.

Pastoral and theological method leading to or flowing from such thinking stresses listening and empathy. The process becomes the point of reference, not the saving truth to be communicated. Understanding humanity today becomes more important than accepting Christ's truth into our lives. A method with an internal dynamic of accommodation and change can become dominant. This approach is riddled with error and the danger of spiritual harm.

But, if being "pastoral" does not mean making people "feel good," what does it mean? It means preaching the truth—the whole truth—"in season and out of season." It means calling people to a deep, personal relationship with Jesus Christ. It means providing people with the means by which they can obtain the fullness of human dignity. Ultimately, it means helping people live out their baptismal vocation as adopted children of God.

Thus, the primary pastoral duty of anyone with such responsibility in the Church is the proclamation of the truth unto sanctification. This is the proper doctrinal frame of pastoral concerns—the mandate to "go therefore and make disciples of all nations baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you." (Mt. 28: 19-20). In short, the truth is always pastoral. But everyone who is a good teacher knows that communicating includes three elements:

1. the message itself;

2. the person receiving the message, and

3. the person who presents the message.

My intention tonight is to examine these three elements briefly to show how we can effectively teach "creation, Christ, and the Church in the late 20th Century."

II. What of the message? We preach "Jesus Christ and Him Crucified (1 Cor.2:2)." This Jesus called Himself "the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6)." But ours is a skeptical age. With Pilate it asks: "What is truth"? This skepticism seems to many to be a prerequisite for "tolerance"—the only "wisdom" that the modern age really accepts. All answers are to be counted of equal value. The focus is on the "process," "dialogue," "sharing," and the "feelings," because no absolute answers are possible. What is a living, growing baby to one person is just a "blob of unwanted tissue" to another and both views are counted as correct "for them." The modern skeptic's only dogma is that there are no dogmas—nothing is absolutely true. (Even though that statement is internally inconsistent.) The autonomous subject creates his own "truth." But skepticism of this sort fails to realize that without the truth man cannot be free. As the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith's recent Instruction on the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian observes:

Man's nature calls him to seek the truth while ignorance keeps him in a condition of servitude. Indeed, man could not be truly free were no light shed upon the central questions of his existence including, in particular, where he comes from and where he is going. When God gives Himself to man as a friend, man becomes free, in accordance with the Lord's word: "No longer do I call you servants, for the servant docs not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you" (John 15:15). Man's deliverance from the alienation of sin and death comes about when Christ, the Truth, becomes the "way" for him (cf: John 14:).[4]

This truth, found in the living God, is a reality which can touch us more profoundly than we can imagine. It can call us beyond the world of our own subjectivity, testing the limits within which we are all too often tempted to compromise. God's word calls us to live in the reality of His world. Ultimately, we are to accommodate ourselves to these deeper and higher truths. We are not to expect them to collapse that they might fit within our own.

John Henry Cardinal Newman, who profoundly opposed what he termed "liberalism" in theology—"the doctrine that there is not positive truth in religion, but that one creed is as good as another," insisted throughout his life that believers must conform themselves to the truth revealed by God.

That there is a truth then; that there is one truth; that religious error is in itself of immoral nature; that its maintainers, unless involuntarily such, are guilty in maintaining it; that it is to be dreaded; that the search for truth is not the gratification of curiosity; that its attainment has nothing of the excitement of a discovery; that the mind is below truth, not above it, and is bound, not to discourse upon it, but to venerate it; that the truth and falsehood are set before us for the trial of our hearts; that our choice is an awful giving forth of lots, on which salvation or rejection is inscribed; that 'before all things it is necessary to hold the Catholic faith,' that 'he that would be saved must thus think' and not otherwise; that 'if thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for understanding, if thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as hid treasure then thou shalt understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God'—this is the dogmatical principle which has strength.[5]

Thus, as the CDF Instruction and Cardinal Newman have illustrated, the truth does set man free and this truth is Christ. But where is this truth to be found today? The answer to the question is not, or at least should not, be in doubt for Catholics. Our belief, reaffirmed by the Second Vatican Council in Lumen Gentium, Dei Verbum and Dignitatis Humanae, is that we find truth in the Catholic Church. Dr. Germain Grisez succinctly summarized this belief when he wrote:

"...Catholics believe that they receive divine revelation by believing what the Catholic Church believes and teaches, and that they can discern what the Church believes and teaches by attending to the Magisterium. By authorization of her divine founder, the Catholic Church speaking through her Magisterium teaches all her members what they must do to be saved."[6]

This belief cannot be over-emphasized. While some believe that the subject creates the truth and others that some internal light or external guides help man discern the truth—we, as Catholics, believe that in and through the Church we hear the voice of God. And, within the Church, it is the special responsibility of the magisterium—the bishops united with the Pope, Peter's successor, the Bishop of Rome—to teach the truth. The Magisterium is the primary and authentic teacher in the church. This is clearly stated in Lumen Gentium 25:

Bishops are preachers of the faith who lead new disciples to Christ. They are authentic teachers, that is, teachers endowed with the authority of Christ, who preach to the people committed to them the faith they must believe and put into practice. But the light of the Holy Spirit, they make that faith clear, bringing forth from the treasury of revelation new things and old (cf. Mt. 13:52), making faith bear fruit and vigilantly warding off any errors which threaten their flock (cf. 2 Tim 4:1-4). Bishops, leaching in communion with the Roman Pontiff, are to be respected by all as witnesses to divine and Catholic truth. In matters of faith and morals, the Bishop speaks in the name of Christ, and the faithful are to accept that teaching and adhere to it with religious assent of soul."

We do not smuggly claim the gift of truth. Nor are we isolated from the human struggle, any more than Cardinal Newman was. His self-chosen epitaph reads, I'm sure you recall, "Ex Umbris et imaginibus in veritatem."—"From shadows and images unto the truth." Surely there is much in life that is not yet clear . . . cast in shadows, if you will. Yet, we clearly affirm that truth is attainable and is, in fact, attained. This is particularly true of religious truth based on Divine Revelation and on those attendant truths which are affirmed by the teaching authority of the Church.

III. Next we turn to the person being evangelized. Our first point should be obvious by now but it is so frequently denied today that it bears further examination. Man is made for union with God who is the truth. As the Holy Father further stated in a speech on Faith and Culture in Lima, Peru, on May 15, 1988:

The search for truth as you well know, constitutes the grandeur of the intellectual activity. As I indicated in my encyclical Redemptor Hominis: In this creative restlessness beats and pulsates what is most deeply human—the search for truth, the insatiable need for the good, hunger for freedom, nostalgia for the beautiful and the voice of conscience.'[7]

Chesterton realized this when he mused that the open mind was like the open mouth—both were meant to close on something—hopefully something substantial and meaty. For Chesterton, man was, if anything, a dogmatic animal. As he stated in the concluding chapter of his book Heretics. (His use of the term dogma may not correspond exactly to ours, but it certainly speaks of "truth".)

The human brain is a machine for coming to conclusions; if it cannot come to conclusions it is rusty. When we hear of a man too clever to believe, we are hearing of something having almost the character of a contradiction in terms. It is like hearing of a nail that was too good to hold down a carpet; or a bolt that was too strong to keep a door shut. Man can hardly be defined, after the fashion of Carlyle, as an animal who makes tools; ants and beavers and many animals make tools, in the sense that they make an apparatus. Man can be defined as an animal that makes dogmas. As he piles doctrine on doctrine and conclusion on conclusion in the formation of some tremendous scheme of philosophy and religion, he is, in the only legitimate sense of which the expression is capable, becoming more and more human. When he drops one doctrine after another in a refined skepticism, when he declines to a system, when he says he has outgrown definitions, when he says he disbelieves in finality, when, in his own imagination, he sits as God, holding no form of creed but contemplating all, then he is by the very process sinking slowly backwards into the vagueness of the vagrant animals and the unconsciousness of the grass. Trees have no dogmas. Turnips are singularly broad-minded.[8]

Man is indeed made for dogmas, made for the truth. And the truth is Jesus Christ. This is the great theme of Gaudium et Spes which the Holy Father so frequently alludes to: that it is only in the mystery of Christ that the mystery of man becomes clear (cf GS22). The Pastoral Constitution goes on to say in the same paragraph that this grace of Christ is somehow mysteriously offered to every man and woman. This is the great dignity of the human person.

For since Christ died for all, and since all men are in fact called to one and the same destiny, which is divine, we must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God in the Paschal Mystery.[9]

Thus, the individual subject must be taken into account and respected. This was one of the greatest achievements of the Council. It reminded the Universal Church of the need for what might be termed pastoral particularity. There was nothing novel in this. Consider, for example, the words of Pius XII in 1948:

We have to communicate to the Episcopacy (he said) and to the Faithful throughout the world the teachings, norms and exhortations which are demanded by the saving mission of the Church and which, without prejudice to their substantial immutability, should always be adapted to the ever changing circumstances and varieties of the time and place.

This is indeed 'conciliar' language, and a reminder that sharp distinctions between the periods before and after the Second Vatican Council are apt to be misleading. Pius was speaking descriptively and prescriptively. He talked of how the immutable Gospel ought to be taught in our mutable world. He also recognized the reality of a Gospel which has always had to be preached in a great variety of circumstances. Common sense and common experience reveal that the Gospel must be taught in different fashion according to different needs. Is the atheist to be evangelized in the same way as the agnostic? The Protestant in the same way as the Pharisee? The heretic in the same way as the heathen? Clearly not, yet to say so is not to countenance different Gospels, merely different methods of presenting the same Good News.

Psychiatrist Conrad W. Baars understood well that the spiritual, emotional and physical development of the potential disciple must be taken into consideration.

A person in authority deprives his subjects of the truth when he says, even with the best intention of helping them, "You may ignore the teachings of the Magisterium: God's laws are too hard for you." By that he says in effect, "You are not and never will be strong and good enough to adhere to these laws." Such an authority denies his subject's potential to grow, and denies the truth—for he conveys the erroneous idea that there are graded degrees of obligation to the moral law.

This is the opposite of the mature, affirming authority who says, "I see your unique goodness, your not-yet-fully developed potential. I am aware of your weakness. Yet I believe in you, and I am certain that you will grow more and more able to love God and others, and to obey God's law that directs us toward a life of unselfish love for others. You can count on my help whenever you need it." By this approach the authority takes into account the gradual growth of human subjects, supports them in their efforts, and also strengthens them through the challenge of the truth and the moral expectation that says, in effect, "Yes you can. Keep trying." (From "The Affirming Bishop," an unpublished essay.)

The central point to understand is this: what I have called pastoral particularity is not a strategy to promote the Gospel, but is at the heart of the Gospel itself. It is not separate from doctrine, but expressive of it. That is why the Council laid such stress on the "living" magisterium. How could it not? The teaching of the faith must be animated by the same liveliness as the faith itself. To talk of a living' Magisterium is, indeed, to remind ourselves of the very nature of authoritative teaching. As Chesterton pointed out, it is wrong to think of dogma as something dark and mysterious. It is, on the contrary, bright and lively, like a "flash of lightning which suddenly illuminates a landscape previously obscure." It is not a theological formula or an ancient debate hardened into orthodoxy. It is the exhilarating clarity of a divine truth.

However, we often forget that for doctrinal truth to be truly exhilarating there must be an active relationship between the disciple and his Lord. We forget that without an active spiritual life of at least moderate depth it is simply impossible, save a miracle from God, that a disciple would in any way feel exhilarated by a doctrine.

It is sad to say that both official teachers and others with catechetical responsibilities have evidently been unable to introduce and develop within our people the mysteries of an interior spiritual life. This would be the pastoral application of one of the most important and sadly neglected of dogmatic facts—the universal call to holiness.

In our catechesis we often give many motives for living the virtuous Christian life. However, we fail to recognize that for virtue in the Christian sense to be practiced for a lifetime one must be motivated by love and hope in the Kingdom rather than by duty. Though we state this in theory, rarely do we show people at a practical level how this is to be achieved on a daily basis. Rarely do we explain to people when we speak about the spiritual life and daily prayer how it is to be achieved. We seem to have despaired of children or adolescents having a daily spiritual life. This can be corroborated by simply looking at the texts which are used to catechize them. The accurate presentation of the dogmatic fact that Christ is truly present in the Eucharist means little to the adolescent who is never seriously challenged to develop a relationship with the Lord who is present in the Eucharist.

Although this forum is not the appropriate place to discuss in detail what we mean by calling for a spiritual life of a least moderate depth, it might be helpful to mention some pertinent aspects. One must recognize a personal relationship to Jesus Christ and to the Holy Trinity. A Catholic will acknowledge theoretically and in practice that the Church through Word and Sacrament is a privileged point of encounter. One will find daily efforts to invite the Lord into one's mind and heart. One's prayer as well as one's daily activities and decisions are intended to conform to God's love and His truth. Our Catholic patrimony of pious practices are understood to be a treasure trove of means from which we can select whatever helps us draw closer to God.

As a result of the woefully inadequate catechesis on the spiritual life we are left with generations of Catholics who look upon goodness and virtue as the fulfillment of laws from a God who is somewhat of a "positivist." Their motive is one of obedience to duty rather than love. Very often by our own catechesis we have expected little else. In order for us ever to recapture the glorious period of the early Church when love for the Lord prevailed over all other motives, we must transform our catechesis and pastoral practice so that it is clear to all-including the shepherds—that daily efforts to build a personal spirituality are a conditio sine qua non of the Christian life.

IV. What of those who present the teaching of the Church? Clearly many people are involved in teaching the truth and transmitting the message, each according to a specific vocation. Bishops have primary responsibility. Theologians have an important role, as do other pastoral personnel and parents themselves. We will not be able to examine those roles individually in great detail.

The bishops are the primary teachers in the Church. Anyone else who teaches, shares in the teaching office of the bishop. The attitude of all teachers in the Church must be one of absolute loyalty and fidelity to the Church's Magisterium. As Archbishop Pio Laghi stated earlier this year to a group of Catechetical publishers:

...[O]ur posture as participants in the catechetical process must be one of great respect for and absolute Fidelity to this revealed truth as the Church, directed by the Holy Spirit, communicates it to us.

This has been the approach of teachers of the faith from the beginning. We recall St. Paul in the teaching on the central doctrine of the Resurrection of Jesus and the Eucharist and how he began his treatment of the subjects with the words: "I hand on to you what I myself have received" (1 Cor 11:23, I Cor 15:13). Paul, although called by the Lord directly, was careful to make sure his message was in harmony with that of Peter and the other Apostles as he narrates in Galatians, 1:13, 2:2): "I laid open for their scrutiny the Gospel as I present it to the Gentiles... that I might be sure the course I was pursuing was not useless."[10]

This same point has been made most strongly in the recent Instruction on the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian.

The good teacher will, then, hand on what he or she has received. But, unfortunately, today, there are many in the Church who openly dissent from the Church's authentic and clear magisterial teaching. Although, obviously, a full examination of the problem of dissent is not possible tonight, I would like to make three points.

First, in a very real way those who publicly dissent on certainly taught doctrines cease doing Catholic theology. This was clearly stated in the C.D.F.'S Instruction:

"Freedom of research, which the academic community rightly holds most precious, means an openness to accepting the truth that emerges at the end of an investigation in which no element has intruded that is foreign to the methodology corresponding to the object under study. In theology this freedom of inquiry is the hallmark of a rational discipline whose object is given by Revelation, handed on and interpreted in the Church under the authority of the Magisterium, and received by faith. These givens have the force of principles. To eliminate them would mean to cease doing theology.[11]

In other words, dissent does not so much seek to explain the faith as it does to explain it away.

Second, anyone who teaches theology does so in union with the college of bishops. Elsewhere, I have spoken at length on the concepts of material and formal cooperation in evil.[12] All bishops, myself included, must scrutinize those who teach in our name to ensure that they do so in accordance with the faith "we have received." To fail to do so is to risk cooperating in the evil of dissent and can have ruinous effects on souls—beginning with the bishops.' I must agree with Germain Grisez that it is a true moral norm that:

Everyone of the Church's pastors should make it clear to all those who have his authorization to preach and teach that he cannot and will not tolerate their using that authorization to dissent from Catholic teachings which he himself accepts. Instead, as soon as it becomes evident that anyone having his authorization preaches or teaches dissenting opinions, he will withdraw the authorization, not to punish the dissenter but to act consistently as a pastor.[13]

Third, dissent divides the Church. Jesus Christ calls us to unity as "He and His Father are one." This division in the Church makes it nearly impossible to convince a skeptical world of the truth. It cannot continue to be tolerated if the Church is effectively to fulfill her mission. This is especially true when dissent is presented and accepted as a concrete norm for pastoral teaching and action.

However, dissent will not go away overnight. In the meantime, we must continue to proclaim the truth. We—pastors and theologians—must make the commitment to present the faith convincingly and boldly. This means we must all do the hard work of study, publishing, research and teaching that constitute our particular vocation. It also must mean that we are personally striving for holiness. We must try to live the truth to be able to speak it with conviction. As von Balthasar reminds us, we must do theology "on our knees." Our lives must be shining examples of faith, hope and love if we seriously hope to be the instruments by which God invokes faith, hope and love in others. Madison Avenue has taught us that the medium is the message. When we present the truths of our faith we must remember that often people cannot hear the message if they do not see it reflected in our lives. To a large extent our success or failure as evangelists will depend on how well our own lives give evidence of sincere efforts to live the truth that we are attempting to communicate.

V. By the way of example I would like to examine the teaching of Humanae Vitae within the framework I have presented.

First, the message itself. Does anyone really doubt that the Church's position on this issue is 'constant and firm'? The Holy Father himself said on June 5, 1987: "Whatever the Church teaches concerning contraception is not open to deliberation among theologians. To teach the contrary would be equivalent to leading the moral conscience of married couples into error." Thus, this teaching is the truth.

Second, the person receiving the message. We must preach the truth about conjugal love to a grossly hedonistic age. This means we must prepare people to receive this teaching by first proclaiming the Good News of Jesus' life, death and resurrection. We must teach the truth about the sacrament of marriage. Most importantly, we must teach people how to pray so that they may grow in faith, hope and love. Then, our message about conjugal love and the intrinsic disorder of contraception can be effectively presented.

Third, we the evangelist and teachers. We must effectively proclaim the wonderful truths of God's revelation about sexuality. This proclamation will include both our scholarship and our personal lives. We must not shirk from proclaiming the "difficult truth" out of a false sense of "pastoral concern." As Paul VI expressed so well in Humanae Vitae, "To diminish in no way the saving teachings of Christ constitutes an eminent form of Charity for souls."

VI. And so we come full circle. The Gospel should be taught, adapted to the very changing varieties of time and place, but without prejudice to its substantial immutability. What distinguishes this pastoral particularity from mere relativism is its animating principle of universality: a single Gospel of salvation for all peoples of all places. We should be humbled by so confident a claim, and our humility should take this form: a recognition that such a task of evangelization would be quite impossible without the firmest basis in sound doctrine and a serious quest for personal holiness.

And yet we should hold to our beliefs with assurance and good cheer, unafraid to proclaim the gospel for what it is—Good News. There is an adage which contains as cogent an answer as any to the false allure of relativism. "Lord I pray that I may stand for something, otherwise I shall fall for everything." We, too, as a Fellowship and as a Catholic people must stand for something. As Christians, we should strive for personal holiness. As scholars, we should pray that our work exhibits not merely intelligence but wisdom. It is our task to sanctify the world: in scholarship we do this by remembering that all of creation is touched by the hand of God. We must work towards a more persuasive presentation of the truths of the faith that will convince a skeptical world. And as a Catholic people, we should stand for the great and eternal doctrines of our faith. That creed, changeless over time and place, is the surety of our salvation. It is the faith that inspired Augustine and Aquinas, Dominic and Francis, Benedict and Clare: the faith of martyr and missionary, priest and peasant, ancient empire and modern. It gathers them all up and transforms them: for it is the faith of Christ, who is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Footnotes

1. Christus Dominus, Presbyteronum Ordinis. Cannons 528, 529, 530. See also the NCCB'S Committee on Priestly Life and Ministry's document A Shepherd's Care 1987.

2. Russell Shaw Renewal Page 13.

3. Catholic New Service July 6, 1990.

4. CDF Instruction, 1.

5. An Essay on the. Development of Christian Doctrine (London, Longman's 1890) page 354.

6. "The Duty and Right to Follow One's Judgment of Conscience" by Germain G. Grisez delivered at Humanae Vitae:20 Anni Dopo Atti del il Congresso Internazionale di Teologia Morale, Roma, 9012 Novembre 1988. Edizioni Ares/Milano, 1989, page 212.

7. Origins, June 2, 1988, Page 36.

8. G.K. Chesterton Heretics (New York: John Lane Company, 1909). pp. 285-286.

9. GS 22.

10. Archbishop Pio Laghi Origins, March 8, 1990, pages 654-655.

11. CDF Instruction, 12.

12. See my "The Obligation of Catholics and the Rights of Unborn Children" in Origins June 14, 1990.

13. Grisez, OP Cit, page 221.

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