Russell Shaw is author of 13 books and editor of Our Sunday Visitor's Encyclopedia of Catholic Doctrine. He is former Secretary for Public Affairs of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops and U.S. Catholic Conference, and former Director of Information of the Knights of Columbus.

Ed. Note: Our November 1998 editorial was in large measure devoted to the matter of the banning of the New Oxford REVIEW'S trademark ads by the National Catholic Register and by Our Sunday Visitor and all its sister periodicals, and the editorial concluded with a proposal to resolve the problem and achieve reconciliation with the Register and the Our Sunday Visitor corporation. The editorial also critiqued the views of Russell Shaw on the issue of how orthodox Catholics should respond to the ever-deepening crisis in the Church. Shaw's views had been expressed in an interview he gave to the Register (Feb. 22-28, 1998), wherein he seemed to urge traditional Catholics to basically stop combating dissent.

Following up on our November editorial our February 1999 editorial noted that our peace overture to the Register and OSV Inc. was not accepted, but that we received a "gracious and creative response " (as we put it) from Mr. Shaw, offering to write an article for the NOR, not on our ads or the ad policies of the Register or OSV Inc., but on how orthodox Catholics should deal with the grave difficulties in which the Church finds herself mired today. His article, which we look upon more favorably than his interview, follows. To reciprocate his graciousness, we are printing his article without editorial comment or reply.

How should Catholics respond to the crisis gripping the Church? A long editorial in last November's NEW OXFORD REVIEW raised that question pointedly. It also discussed the by now familiar controversy over NOR ads, but I have nothing to say about that, except that the argument is typical of the peculiarly painful sort of scrap involving people who agree on basics but disagree on tactics. It is not ads I propose to talk about, but something else.

Referring to an interview I gave last year to the National Catholic Register, the editorial said:

That is true as far as it goes, but only part of the truth. In weighing how to respond to the crisis of the Church, we must start by seeing the crisis as it is.

It is not simply a difference of opinion about sexual ethics or women's ordination or papal authority or any one of a number of other particular issues. These things are important in themselves, but they also point to something larger. At the heart of the crisis is this question: What stance should the Catholic Church adopt toward modernity or, now, postmodernity? What relationship should Catholicism cultivate with a world view which either rejects the idea that there is any definitive truth about the human person or assumes that, if such a truth exists, it is unknowable?

That this is a crisis for all churches and religious bodies does not make it less urgent for Catholics. Lately, in fact, it seems to have grown more intense for the Church. The 20th century has witnessed three milestones in the Catholic effort to frame a response: Modernism (an attempt by some Catholics to work out the relationship on modernity's terms); the Second Vatican Council (more promising, yet only partially successful up to now); and the pontificate of Pope John Paul II.

John Paul is the first pope to confront postmodernity and its challenge. His analysis in the encyclical Fides et Ratio is particularly acute. Modem philosophy has the great merit of "focusing attention upon man," he writes; yet, tragically, faced with the "terrible experience of evil which has marked our age," many thinkers not only have abandoned "rationalist optimism" but have given up on the quest for meaning. This "nihilism" leads to the destruction of human freedom and dignity. Dostoyevsky's Grand Inquisitor intoned: "Man prefers peace, and even death, to freedom of choice in the knowledge of good and evil." Postmodernity takes the condition of unfreedom as a given; the Church defends the reality of freedom grounded in truth.

Catholics face three options in working out a response to this crisis. Rejection of the modem (or postmodern) world is one; it is the response typical of radical integralists. Accommodation leading to cultural assimilation is another; and while it would be hard to find anyone self-consciously advocating this approach, there is overwhelming evidence of its adoption by large numbers of Catholics today.

The third possibility is to some extent a mix of the other two: rejection - fight or flight when rejection is necessary, along with acceptance of what is good in secular culture when a prudent reading of the signs of the times so dictates. (In his new book The Lustre of Our Country [Berkeley: University of California Press, 19981, John T. Noonan Jr. cites Vatican II's embrace of religious liberty as an instance.) Not either/or but aggiornamento-cum-ressourcement, as it were. But this approach must meet two crucial tests: It must be faithful to the Magisterium and it must be consistently open, and ultimately directed, to evangelizing the culture.

Probably just about all serious Catholics the elites of left and right referred to by the NOR editorial at least pay lip service to this third option. Yet peace and harmony do not abound within the Church, and the reason for that is clear.

A response that is neither all aggiornamento nor entirely ressourcement but a bit of both invites endless argument about the proper formula. Two parts aggiornamento to one of ressourcement or the other way around? This may be mildly humorous, but it is no laughing matter.

Very nearly all the controverted issues in the Church today - sexuality, teaching authority, the role of women, the meaning of the Bible, inculturation, pluralism, and all the rest - are best understood in this light. Each controversy involves questions and exigencies of its own, but at the same time is an element in - and, to some extent, a distraction from - the project of defining Catholicism's relationship to postmodernity.

That larger issue will not be settled here. Pursuing the lead suggested in the NOR editorial, I simply wish to offer a few suggestions for carrying on the conversation.

I begin by setting aside the approach of the Catholic Common Ground Initiative. Despite the good will of the sponsors of this organized attempt to bring together polarized Catholics, its basic premises are disturbingly wrong. The Common Ground's founding manifesto, a document entitled "Called to Be Catholic," sets out propositions to guide the dialogue. The most important is, "Jesus Christ, present in Scripture and sacrament, is central to all that we do." The document also affirms certain "basic truths," the chief one being, "Our discussion must be accountable to the Catholic tradition and to the Spirit-filled, living Church."

This tells a lot about the present confusion in the Church. Although Jesus Christ should be central to everything Catholics do, Christ's centrality is the common principle shared by all Christians; as such, it is the starting point for ecumenical dialogue, not dialogue among Catholics. As for the idea that Catholics should be "accountable to the Catholic tradition and to the ... Church," authentic unity among Catholics requires something more than accountability; it requires accepting and embracing the tradition and the Church as essential components of Catholic identity. Flawed premises like these can only lead to the kind of mindless celebration of pluralism that unwittingly concedes postmodernity's denial of definitive, knowable truth.

If Common Ground is not the answer, what is? Here are a few ideas.

Part of the answer concerns new structures for the expression of public opinion in the Church. Many authoritative documents, including the Code of Canon Law (Canon 212.2 and 212.3), acknowledge its importance, but at present we have the worst of both worlds: constant manipulation of Catholic opinion in the service of dissent, along with a pervasive institutional failure to form responsible opinion and encourage its expression. The polarized Catholic elites express their opinions, frequently and vociferously, but speak only to themselves. Most Catholics are not heard from at all - and, to be painfully frank about it, many are so illinformed that soliciting their opinions as a guide to Church policy would be a foolish, even dangerous, exercise. This unhealthy state of affairs will not be changed overnight; but diocesan newspapers that are something other than house organs, serious programs of adult formation (not feel-good sharing sessions), and pastoral councils that are more than pastors' yes-men might help.

We also need structures and processes for hearing complaints, mediating disputes, and resolving conflicts. For instance, diocesan tribunals might begin handling more than just marriage cases. Canon law (see Canon 221.1) already provides for that, but nothing has been done about it. It is worth recalling, too, that while the revised Code was being prepared, there was discussion of setting up new "administrative tribunals" to handle disputes. The idea may deserve a second look.

Structures and processes for resolving conflicts among Catholics obviously must be entirely loyal to the Church's doctrine and discipline: We do not need new mechanisms for winking at abuses. But, assuming this, they would give loyal Catholics the assurance now often lacking that their concerns had been taken seriously, evaluated by appropriate criteria, and acted upon where action was in order. Some may object that creating forums for conflict resolution would invite more conflicts; but real unity, even at the cost of some pain, is much to be preferred to the unreal semblance of unity now existing in the Church.

Above all, though, Catholics need to find an appropriate style for disagreeing with one another.

A few years ago I remarked in a conservative Catholic magazine that conservative Catholics often come across as good haters. While that still strikes me as true, fairness obliges me to add that progressive Catholics are pretty good haters too. A tale of two cardinals illustrates the problem.

Few people in the contemporary Church have taken more abuse than Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith. In late 1985 I was in Rome as press secretary to the American delegation attending the Synod of Bishops called to mark the 20th anniversary of Vatican II. Two American reporters approached me one day to check out a rumor someone had shared with them: Ratzinger was an exNazi.

I pointed out that when World War II began young Ratzinger was all of 12 years old. The reporters went away sad, and I was left to reflect on the state of mind of people who practice character assassination. The National Catholic Reporter recently quoted Hans Kung as saying of the Cardinal, "He is the chief authority of the Inquisitorial office. It's like having a general conversation about human rights with the head of the KGB." To speak this way of one's opponent is beyond the pale.

The second cardinal is the late Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago. Not long after his death in 1996, a Catholic journal published a long profile highly critical of him for championing the "consistent ethic of life" that many prolifers think weakens their cause. Missing from this account, however, was any mention of the presidential campaign of 1976 - a hugely serious omission for anyone claiming to interpret the late Cardinal's record on abortion.

In the summer of 1976 Bernardin, at that time Archbishop of Cincinnati and president of the bishops' national conference, led its officers in fateful meetings with candidate Jimmy Carter and incumbent Gerald Ford. Confronting a mob of reporters in the lobby of a Washington hotel after the first encounter, he pronounced the bishops "disappointed" by Carter's refusal to support a prolife amendment to the Constitution; after the second, he told the White House press corps that the bishops were "encouraged" by Ford's backing of the idea.

The controversy that then erupted raged on for weeks. Bernardin was pilloried for his efforts on behalf of the unborn. Among his critics were media pundits, liberal Catholics, nervous bishops, and some prominent members of the bishops' national staff. Eventually, he was forced to beat a humiliating public retreat. And through it all, the conservative Catholics stayed mum. Did this highly intelligent churchman draw the conclusion that such people make reliable enemies but unreliable friends? That would account for a lot.

Be that as it may, Catholics now need a Christian mode of disagreeing - vigorous and forthright, yet fair and informed by love. St. Peter Canisius, S.J., could well serve as a model. In the 16th century, when he was doing so much to save large parts of Germany for Catholicism, CatholicProtestant polemics were the norm, and Canisius himself was the frequent butt of people who thought it witty to make nasty puns turning on his name's resemblance to the Latin for dog. To an aspiring Catholic controversialist, William van der Lindt, he wrote in 1557:

Much in your writings might be expressed with greater restraint, especially where you make unfair play with the names of Calvin, Melanchthon, and similar people. It is the moborator's privilege to riot in such blossoms.... The truth must be defended wisely, seasonably, and soberly, so that our modesty may be known to all men and we may obtain, if possible, a good report even from those who are without.... With regard to your proposed "Advice to Bishops, " there is this to be considered, that we temper zeal with Christian prudence, lest wishing to build up we, perhaps, through want of discretion, rather destroy, especially in these times when so little is left of the Church except ruins.

Needless to say, concern to build up and not tear down marked Canisius's own approach.

I do not mean to be naive. Many elite Catholics of the left and the right have passed beyond the point of dialogue and debate and are engaged in a civil war. The NOR's editorial is emphatically right about that. But even wars should be waged by rules of decency and restraint - not only for the opponent's sake but also for the sake of one's own integrity. That is no less true of our present warfare within the community of faith.

Sooner or later, this long civil war will end. The Church will have survived. Then a future generation of faithful Catholics will have to take up again the work disrupted by the conflicts now occupying so much of our time and energy - I mean the work of forging Catholicism's relationship with secular culture in order to evangelize it. To judge by his frequent references to the third

Christian millennium as a "springtime" for the Church, it appears that this is what Pope John Paul foresees happening. And at the very least, we who find ourselves so vexingly preoccupied with the conflicts of today should do nothing, through either timidity or excess of zeal, to hold back the spring - neither gratuitously dividing the Church and scandalizing the weak and ill-formed nor cultivating an illusion of unity even as authentic unity is subverted and destroyed. We have a delicate balancing act to do, and perhaps we shall fail. But at least let us try.

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