Growing up in the 1980s and beginning my academic theological studies in the year 2000, theological dissent was a known issue from the parish level up to institutes of higher education. For example, when I was a child, a director of religious education explicitly admitted to dissenting from Church teaching, so I attended CCD elsewhere. Charles Curran was known to dissent from the Church’s teaching regarding contraception before he was given tenure as an associate professor. A year later, he joined his signature alongside eighty-six other theologians in dissent from Humanae Vitae. He continued to dissent on several moral issues for almost another two decades before he was finally censured by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) and removed from his teaching post in 1986. Over the years, other theologians were censured as well for various breeches against orthodoxy, but there were many left unscathed.
Open dissent was not just a problem found on the “left” or “progressive” end of the ideological spectrum. From the “right,” supposedly “traditional” side, there were figures such as Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, the well-known founder of the Fraternal Society of Saint Pius X (SSPX). He rejected certain teachings of the Second Vatican Council. In 1988, he was declared to have incurred a latae sententiae excommunication for consecrating bishops against the explicit directives of the pope.
However, not all traditionally minded Catholics followed such schismatic attitudes and actions. My maternal grandfather was a strong proponent of the Tridentine Mass, yet he faithfully attended the Novus Ordo and warned me and others against associating with the SSPX.
From an early age, then, I was aware of the problem of dissent coming from all sides of the ecclesial divide. Yet, in the midst of this, I firmly trusted the magisterium and believed in the need to submit to it. As I began my theological studies, fidelity to the magisterium was paramount. I rejoiced in such documents as Pope St. John Paul II’s apostolic constitution Ex Corde Ecclesiae, which called for magisterial fidelity on the part of Catholic universities and their professors. To me, orthodoxy was never optional; it was part and parcel of being a committed Catholic.
“It can be a call to suffer for the truth, in silence and prayer, but with the certainty, that if the truth really is at stake, it will ultimately prevail.”
I looked up to theologians who toed the magisterial line. I learned to submit my own opinions to the wisdom of Holy Mother Church. For example, when I began studying Catholic social doctrine, I did my best not to allow my prior political opinions and leanings to inhibit my docility and receptivity to the numerous social encyclicals, starting with Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum.
As a theologian, I have always understood my role as subordinate to that of the magisterium. Such a view was supported by official Church documents such as the Code of Canon Law, the Profession of Faith, and the Oath of Fidelity, as well as by Joseph Ratzinger’s book The Nature and Mission of Theology. In particular, the 1990 instruction by the CDF, Donum Veritatis, “On the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian,” has been a guide for my own views.
Such guidance includes the issue of what to do when there is tension between a theologian and the magisterium (see Donum Veritatis 25–31). Obviously, when it comes to definitive, infallible teachings, there is no room for refusing assent. The document acknowledges, however, that there may be instances in which a theologian struggles with a non-definitive teaching and offers guidelines for how a theologian should handle such a situation.
To start, the theologian should “strive . . . to understand this teaching in its contents, arguments, and purposes. This will mean an intense and patient reflection on his part and a readiness, if need be, to revise his own opinions and examine the objections which his colleagues might offer him” (29). The document continues: “If, despite a loyal effort on the theologian’s part, the difficulties persist, the theologian has the duty to make known to the Magisterial authorities the problems raised by the teaching in itself, in the arguments proposed to justify it, or even in the manner in which it is presented. He should do this in an evangelical spirit and with a profound desire to resolve the difficulties. His objections could then contribute to real progress and provide stimulus to the Magisterium to propose the teaching of the Church in greater depth and with a clearer presentation of the arguments” (30).
Perhaps just as important as what a theologian should do is what Donum Veritatis says the theologian ought not to do. “In cases like these, the theologian should avoid turning to the ‘mass media,’ but have recourse to the responsible authority, for it is not by seeking to exert pressure of public opinion that one contributes to the clarification of doctrinal issues and renders service to the truth” (30).
Sometimes, despite these best efforts, a theologian might continue to struggle with a particular document or teaching. Donum Veritatis addresses that as well. “It can also happen that at the conclusion of a serious study, undertaken with the desire to heed the Magisterium’s teaching without hesitation, the theologian’s difficulty remains because the arguments to the contrary seem more persuasive to him. Faced with a proposition to which he feels he cannot give his intellectual assent, the theologian nevertheless has the duty to remain open to a deeper examination of the question” (31).
The document acknowledges that such difficulties can weigh heavily on the theologian, causing real turmoil. “For a loyal spirit, animated by love for the Church, such a situation can certainly prove a difficult trial. It can be a call to suffer for the truth, in silence and prayer, but with the certainty, that if the truth really is at stake, it will ultimately prevail” (31).
Notably, the document does not equate such circumstances with dissent. Rather, it states that “public opposition to the Magisterium of the Church also called ‘dissent’ . . . must be distinguished from the situation of personal difficulties treated above” (32). In other words, there is a difference between having a personal difficulty in assenting to a given doctrinal formulation and dissenting, which is a public opposition to such a teaching. It treats the problem of dissent extensively in numbers 32–41.
It is easy to live according to these norms when one fully agrees with magisterial teaching. It is likewise easy to wield these norms against others who do not agree with a magisterial teaching you find completely reasonable. The difficulty comes when, as Donum Veritatis acknowledges, a theologian struggles with some aspect of a magisterial text, whether it be the mode of argumentation or even the content of the teaching itself.
The question of public dissent is not merely a question of who is right or who is wrong. It also is a matter of right order within the Church as a society. There have been times when I have been questioned or even ridiculed for not denouncing certain things in magisterial texts. My basic response is essentially that, even if I were to have a difficulty with some magisterial text, it is not my place to vent my opinion or judgment thereof to the public. I believe in the hierarchical constitution of the Church, and I understand that I should not entice the faithful to follow my judgment contrary to that of the magisterium.1
There are theologians who struggle with certain statements or teachings found in magisterial texts but who exercise their right and even duty to remain silent in the public forum. They might discuss their concerns with their theological peers and even submit such objections to the proper magisterial authorities themselves. Yet, they do not feel they have the right to use mass media—or social media—as a means to garner support for their judgment. Even if such a theologian is right in his or her views, venting publicly can cause ecclesial disorder. As Donum Veritatis states: “When dissent succeeds in extending its influence to the point of shaping a common opinion, it tends to become the rule of conduct. This cannot but seriously trouble the People of God and lead to contempt for true authority” (34). To prevent such effects, sometimes theologians are called to suffer in silence. Otherwise, it tempts others to think they are free to dissent from the magisterium whenever they can find a theologian who disagrees with it.
For this reason, we ought not ridicule theologians who refuse to criticize the magisterium publicly. They should be lauded for doing something very few people in this age of social media are willing to do: Keep their contrarian opinions out of the view of the general public. It might not be easy, but it is what is asked of them.
1 There are certain nuances and complexities I cannot address here—e.g., whether or not “public dissent” includes raising questions in academic, peer-reviewed publications. Additionally, there are complexities involved in determining which document or teaching actually calls for assent in the case of real or apparent magisterial reversals or contradictions. Theologians do have to deal with such cases, and sometimes it is necessary to weigh one magisterial text against another regarding relative authoritative weight. For a much more thorough treatment of this matter, see Matthew Levering, “Mother Church: Can Receptivity Be Squared with Resistance?,” The New Ressourcement, Issue 1.2 (Summer 2024): 395–445.