Defending the Jesuits against accusations of 'tyranny' and 'servile obedience'
A oft-cited essay by Dr John Lamont blames St Ignatius and the Jesuits for many evils, based on the notion of obedience expressed in the foundational texts. Is this justified—or vacuous?
A oft-cited essay by Dr John Lamont blames St Ignatius and the Jesuits for many evils, based on the notion of obedience expressed in the foundational texts. Is this justified—or vacuous?
Editor’s Notes
(WM Review)—A key plank in the “narrative” for many traditionalists is as follows:
The crisis in the Church is one of obedience. Many Catholics have an exaggerated notion of obedience, leading to two problematic results:
They obey when they should not.
They draw conclusions about the nature of the crisis, and the post-conciliar claimants to the papacy, which they should not.
This narrative is crucial for the coterie of writers who have adopted for themselves the moniker of “Recognise and Resist.”
The advocates of this “Recognise and Resist” ideology present themselves as the only ones who understand and accept the Church’s doctrine of obedience. They seem either ignorant or unwilling to admit that others also understand and accept it, but draw different conclusions.
As a result this narrative—and its grave implications for the dignity and prerogatives of the Holy See—some writers amidst this coterie have begun to look further back than Vatican II or the years and decades leading to it, and have blamed the allegedly exaggerated notion of obedience on the Jesuits (the Society of Jesus)—not just in the order’s modern form, but as originally conceived by their holy founder St Ignatius of Loyola.
In recent years, this narrative has been cemented by an essay by Dr John Lamont entitled ‘Tyranny and Sexual Abuse in the Catholic Church: A Jesuit Tragedy.’ This essay is presented as an authoritative treatment by the coterie, and used as a means of advancing their ideology and its accompanying “rethinking” of the papacy.
Frankly, the temerity in such an attitude towards a saint repeatedly praised and endorsed by the Holy See—which has equally praised the Order and method of the Jesuits, which have themselves had so many evident good fruits—is unbelievable.
However, what do those “rethinking the papacy,” and using Lamont’s essay to justify it, care of the praise of the Roman Pontiffs?
What follows is Part I of a translation from a German essay by a priest who writes under the name Fr ZeloZelavi, who refutes Lamont’s essay and demonstrates that the philosophy undergirding it is liberalism.
In this first part, Fr ZeloZelavi shows us…
How myths about Jesuit “tyranny” and “servile obedience” twist the true Catholic understanding of authority
That obedience perfects freedom by conforming the will to God through lawful authority.
Why centuries of Jesuit discipline reflect Catholic wisdom, not a nominalist distortion as claimed.
Fr ZeloZelavi shows us that the Catholic tradition of obedience, embodied by St Ignatius and upheld for centuries, is not a path to tyranny or mental servility, but a school of sanctity.
NB: German usage is not always consistent in how it addresses men with PhDs. No disrespect seems to have been intended by the occasional use of ‘Mr’ Lamont.
Tyrannical Authority and Servile Obedience
Fr ZeloZelavi
17 January 2019
1. Modern “traditionalism” is merely a form of liberalism and derives directly from the “liberal Catholics” of the 19th century. That is our thesis, which we have already substantiated and illuminated several times here and intend to expand on further. Properly viewed, modern “traditionalists” do not even wear a mask. They openly reveal themselves as liberals by insisting on their autonomy vis-à-vis what they claim to be the Church’s teaching authority. They merely don “traditional” vestments and assert that their disobedience and resistance are necessary in order to defend “Tradition” against the “Magisterium”—an absurdity for any Catholic and yet another sign that they are liberals. The “traditionalists” themselves confirm for us that the “Sedevacantists” are the descendants of the “Ultramontanists,” thereby admitting in turn that they themselves are the descendants of the “liberal Catholics” (Cf. Zufällig sehr schlecht, ‘Coincidentally, Very Bad’).
2. A characteristic feature of the liberal is to acknowledge no authority except, or above, his own reason. Furthermore, he restricts that reason to its lower faculties—the superficial, the outwardly apparent, the visible, the sensually perceptible. For were he to rise to its higher faculties, his reason would tell him that there is an authority above it, to which he must submit. This explains certain peculiarities of the “traditionalists,” for example their insistence on the “visibility of the Church,” which they perceive merely superficially in the fact that there is a man in white sitting in the Vatican; or their ignoring of Church teaching whenever it contradicts their own ideas—which is why they stubbornly maintain that although there may indeed be heretical popes and an apostate Church, there cannot be a Church without a current pope.
Liberals have always especially hated “Ultramontanists” in general and the Jesuits in particular. In the last article (Cf. Zufällig sehr schlecht, ‘Coincidentally, Very Bad’) we encountered a “neo-traditionalist” who declared “Ultramontanism” to be the source of all present-day evils.
“The true root of sedevacantism is Ultramontanism—the real problem under which we have been suffering since the First Vatican Council.”
So wrote Mr Dr Kwasniewski, who styles himself as a “philosopher” and “theologian.” According to him, the “real problem” under which we suffer has existed “since the First Vatican Council,” not merely since “Vatican II.” And it is not Modernism that took power at “Vatican II,” but rather “Ultramontanism,” which gained the upper hand at the First Vatican Council. Such a peculiar viewpoint, contradicting all obvious facts, can only come from a liberal. Accordingly, Pope St Pius X must have been mistaken when he fought the Modernists rather than the “Ultramontanists,” and when he called the Modernists (and not than the “Ultramontanists”) “more pernicious and dangerous than all other enemies of the Church.” But in this respect, liberals are naturally blind. For them there is only one enemy: “Ultramontanism.” Or, in our day, “sedevacantism.”
3. The formerly “indult” and now “neo-traditionalist” blog “Rorate Caeli” is an inexhaustible spring from which the liberal spirit of the “traditionalists” bubbles forth. At the end of October last year, it published an article by one Mr John R. T. Lamont, a Canadian who likewise holds the title of Doctor, “philosopher,” and “theologian,” and who contributes to the relevant “Tradi-Con” publications. He engages in profound reflections there on the “abuse scandals” that were agitating his circles at the time, bringing astonishing connections to light. ‘Tyranny and sexual abuse in the Catholic Church: A Jesuit tragedy’ is the title of his piece, and we can already guess where he is heading, even if we can scarcely believe that a supposedly “so Catholic” blog, which professes to combat Modernism, should serve up something like this.
[NB: This article is no longer available at Rorate Caeli. It is still available at Catholic Family News.]
Many Catholics, the author begins, asked themselves in view of the “abuse scandals” how these things could have happened. The first question that arises, he continues, is why the bishops dealt with the offenders so laxly, merely transferring them instead of removing them from service. Until now, he says, no “satisfactory answer” has been given. Well, if he asked us, we would have one. Several, in fact. One answer would be that the “Church of Mercy” of “Vatican II,” according to the words of its “holy founding father” Roncalli (alias “John XXIII”) “prefers to employ the remedy of mercy” rather than “the weapon of severity.” Another answer would be that the man-made Church of “Vatican II,” thanks to the “revolution of sensuality,” no longer recognises or takes seriously the depths of sexual aberrations. A third answer would be that the Church had already been infiltrated before “Vatican II” by hostile agents who—as Our Lady of La Salette had already pointed out—deliberately sowed the sin of fornication in religious houses and seminaries to pave the way for the man-made Church, the “great harlot,” in which men given over to sin now set the tone. This would also answer the question Mr Lamont raises immediately afterwards, namely how it was possible for a man to become “Archbishop” of Washington and a “Cardinal,” when his involvement in “sexual abuse” was notorious and also known to the “Holy See.”
Nominalism
4. But these answers do not seem sufficient for the Doctor. He delves further, finding it strange that all these things could have happened despite the relevant canons of canon law. For, he maintains, canon law is not to blame. On that point we disagree. Mr Lamont rightly points out that Canon 2359 § 2 of the 1917 Code of Canon Law stipulated the following penalties for clerics in cases of sexual sins with minors under the age of 16:
“An adult (major) who is guilty of one of these crimes is to be deprived of his office, declared dishonourable, stripped of every post and benefice, as well as of every dignity and official position, and in grave cases is to be deposed”
Eichmann-Mörsdorf, Lehrbuch des Kirchenrechts, Vol. III, p. 452.
He also correctly states that this canon of the 1917 Code of Canon Law was replaced in the 1983 Codex Iuris Canonici [Code of Canon Law] by Canon 1395 § 2, which reads:
“A cleric who has offended in other ways against the sixth commandment of the Decalogue, if the offence was committed in public, is to be punished with just penalties, not excluding dismissal from the clerical state if the case so warrants.”
Well then, the Doctor already has his answer. Quite obviously, the “canon law” of 1983 has been decisively weakened compared with the canon law of 1917. The 1917 Code of Canon Law specifies exactly what must happen to a cleric who is guilty of such an offence and ensures that he is immediately removed from his position and from any form of ecclesiastical service, never again to achieve office or dignities. The “new Code” of 1983 merely speaks of “just penalties,” with the possibility that “if the case so requires,” dismissal from the clerical state is not ruled out. What counts as a “just penalty” is left to the judgement of the relevant superior. And if he deems a transfer, or perhaps just a reprimand or even a “promotion out of the way,” sufficient, why not? Mr Lamont, however, laments that the “ecclesiastical authorities” broke the law by failing to apply the corresponding canons. That may hold true up to 1983, but surely not thereafter (cf. Fr ZeloZelavi’s Offences against Morality). No blame attaches to the “old” 1917 Code of Canon Law. The “new canon law,” however, fully reflects the “Church of Mercy” as understood by a Bergoglio, who displays a most remarkable leniency towards clerics guilty of such offences (since, as a lover of Tango, he is in general quite sympathetic to sensuality and all manner of sexual aberrations). Indeed, he even defends them and takes them under his protection.
5. The Doctor, however, believes that the “new Code” bears no blame. Undoubtedly, it is a combination of many factors that have brought about “this disastrous situation.” Yet there is one factor which has so far been addressed or understood far too little, but which is of unsurpassed effect in the emergence of the current scandal. And that factor—here he lets the cat out of the bag—is “the influence within the Church of a conception of authority that is seen as a form of tyranny, rather than as being based on and constituted by law.” In his essay, the Doctor wishes to set out for us the nature of this conception, to describe how it arose, and to examine some of its more significant consequences. He has set himself quite a task. We already have an inkling of where he wants to go with this. Mr Lamont is not entirely wrong, for the man-made Church indeed possesses no rightful or lawful authority, which is why only anarchy or tyranny can prevail within it. Its lawlessness—attested to, though the Doctor has not noticed it, by the 1983 Code—certainly plays a part in the “abuse scandals.” But that is not, regrettably, what he means, as we shall see.
He identifies the intellectual origin of that false conception of authority and obedience in “nominalist theology and philosophy.” William of Ockham, he demonstrates with his brilliant knowledge of the history of philosophy, answered the “Euthyphro Dilemma” (so named after the dialogue Euthyphro by Plato) by saying that good actions are good solely because they are commanded by God. God could also make idolatry, murder, and other vices good, and their omission evil, if He commanded them.
“This conception of divine authority lends support to a tyrannical understanding of authority in general as based on the arbitrary will of the possessor of power, rather than on law,” Mr Lamont states sternly.
6. This is not entirely wrong. We must, however, interject straight away and point out that God is not, of course, subject to any law. His Will itself is the supreme law. In that respect, Ockham is right. Things are good insofar and to the extent that they accord with God’s Will. What Ockham overlooks is God’s nature. God is Wisdom, the Good; he is Goodness and Love. His Will can never stand in contradiction to His essence. Ockham makes the typically liberal mistake of measuring God by human standards, arriving at a God of arbitrariness who would indeed be a tyrant. His “image of God” is more like the image of the devil. He simply no longer has any concept of God. The danger in Lamont’s critique of Ockham lies in detaching the law from God’s Will and turning it into an absolute. Whether he avoids this danger remains to be seen.
Dr Lamont instructs us as to what a conception of authority grounded in law looks like. According to him, the law, which flows from “the nature of the good,” constitutes the source of a ruler’s authority and limits the sphere in which he may issue commands. We must note here that “the nature of the good” is not a self-subsistent abstraction, but rather derives from God’s Will. Scholars, the author continues, have long known that the dominance of nominalist thought in the 14th century left its mark on Catholic thought for centuries and is noticeable even in those scholars who believed they represented an anti-nominalist tradition. (Perhaps that also applies to Mr Lamont himself?)
“The nature of authority was one of these theses. Catholic theologians and philosophers during the Counter-Reformation all held that law and moral obligation are to be understood as resulting from the command of a superior; Suarez gave a characteristic description of law as ‘the act whereby a superior wills to bind an inferior to the performance of a particular deed.’”
7. What could be objected to in that definition? As we have seen, divine law is based on God’s Will, and likewise human law is based on the will of the superior. According to Catholic teaching, (legitimate) human authority shares in God’s authority. Naturally, it has the right to command only to the extent that it remains in conformity with the divine Will and within the boundaries of its power to command. Then indeed its will is law. We fear that Dr Lamont himself is infected by Ockham’s dreadful notion of a “capricious God,” which is why for him every authority automatically signifies arbitrariness unless it is bound to a law external to itself. At least Ockham stuck with the idea of a God of arbitrariness, whereas the modern liberal immediately cries out for the law. The democratic demand for a constitution, to which authority in the state must be bound, rests on the same fear; accordingly, there may be no ruler not subject to the law of the constitution. That in this way state authority is subjected to the “will of the people” and thus to arbitrariness all the more is something modern, liberal political theorists fail to notice.
Dr Lamont is plainly of the opinion that regarding the law as flowing from God’s Will and, in consequence, from the will of human authority is erroneous, but that in the wake of Ockham’s nominalism, it also influenced the Counter-Reformation scholars and led to a false concept of obedience.
“Restoration of discipline among clergy and religious was one of the main goals of the Counter-Reformation,” he writes, continuing:
“The theories of law and authority that guided this restoration differed from a pure nominalist position, but these differences were lost when the practical principles for training in obedience were devised. These principles embodied a tyrannical understanding of authority [sic!], and a servile understanding of rightful obedience [!] as consisting in total submission to the will of the superior.”
“Tyrannical authority” and “servile obedience” are the bogeymen that have evidently traumatised Dr Lamont and will appear continually in his essay.
Saint Ignatius and Father Rodríguez
8. This view of Dr Lamont’s seems to us genuinely liberal. As a liberal, he suspects a potential tyrant in every authority and abhors the “servile” obedience that would consist in “complete submission to the will of the superior.” Yet that is precisely how the Church has always understood perfect obedience, and she has always praised that obedience. The vow of obedience taken by religious states exactly that: the submission of their own will to the will of the (legitimate) superior. It goes without saying that obedience to a human authority—as opposed to the divine—is never absolute (cf. True Obedience: Part 1 and Part 2). In Dr Lamont’s view, however, this understanding of obedience is a misconception stemming from nominalism. Did Our Saviour himself, then, have a false conception of authority and obedience when he submitted to the Father’s Will, “obedient unto death, even unto death on the Cross,” and when, as a man, he was also “subject” to his parents (“et erat subditus illis”)? Did Mary and Joseph have a false conception of authority and obedience when they obeyed the Emperor’s decree by undertaking the arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem?
If doubts had still lingered as to the spirit animating Mr Lamont, they would certainly be dispelled now, when the Doctor begins to rail against Saint Ignatius of Loyola and the Jesuits. He asserts that the most consequential formulation of those principles—mistaken in his eyes—appears in the writings of Saint Ignatius on obedience. He discerns the “key elements” of the Ignatian conception of authority in the following statements of the Saint:
“The mere execution of the order of a superior is the lowest degree of obedience, and does not merit the name of obedience or constitute an exercise of the virtue of obedience.”
“In order to merit the name of virtue, an exercise of obedience should attain the second level of obedience, which consists in not only doing what the superior orders, but conforming one’s will to that of the superior, so that one not only will to obey an order, but wills that that particular order should have been given—simply because the superior willed it.”
“The third and highest degree of obedience consists in conforming not only one’s will but one’s intellect to the order of the superior, so that one not only wills that an order should have been given, but actually believes that the order was the right order to give, simply because the superior gave it. ‘He who aims at making an entire and perfect oblation of himself, in addition to his will, must offer his understanding, which is a further and the highest degree of obedience. He must not only will, but he must think the same as the superior, submitting his own judgment to that of the superior, so far as a devout will can bend the understanding.’”
9. He further quotes the holy founder of the Order:
“In the highest and most meritorious degree of obedience, the follower has no more will of his own in obeying than an inanimate object. ‘Everyone of those who live under obedience ought to allow himself to be carried and directed by Divine Providence through the agency of the superior as if he were a lifeless body which allows itself to be carried to any place and to be treated in any manner desired, or as if he were an old man’s staff which serves in any place and in any manner whatsoever in which the holder wishes to use it.’”
“The sacrifice of will and intellect involved in this form of obedience is the highest form of sacrifice possible, because it offers to God the highest human faculties, viz. the intellect and the will.”
These remarks evidently do not suit our Doctor—just as they would not suit any liberal. They fill him with aversion. At this juncture, we must note, of course, that Saint Ignatius is writing these words for members of his Order, and has in mind religious obedience, which a religious undertakes by virtue of his vow. This sort of obedience is not for everyone. Father Alphonsus Rodríguez SJ, whom our author will set his sights on a few paragraphs later, writes in his magnificent work The Practice of Christian & Religious Perfection:
“Our holy Father Ignatius often expressed himself in this manner: In the Church Militant, God the Lord has opened up two ways by which men can attain salvation. One is the common way, namely keeping the commandments; the other adds the evangelical counsels, and this is the proper way for religious.”
Part III, Treatise V, Chapter 6, p. 171.
It seems to us not entirely fair to pretend that Saint Ignatius intended his depiction of the religious’ perfect obedience to serve as a rule for every kind of obedience on the part of all subordinates to all authorities, even civil authorities.
10. But let us see what else Mr Lamont has to say. He claims that Saint Ignatius himself did not adhere to his own rules in practice. He sent Jesuits out on “independent missions,” where they “had to use their own initiative.”
“Literally construed, his writings on obedience could have no application in these situations, because the superior was not there to give the commands to which this kind of obedience is due.”
By saying this, the Doctor merely demonstrates that he has understood nothing at all. It was precisely obedience to their superior that dispatched them on such a mission, providing Jesuits with the solid foundation for their own initiative. The one does not exclude the other; on the contrary. Of course a liberal cannot understand this. For him, obedience is always the opposite of freedom, and thus of independent thought and action. True obedience, however, does not destroy freedom but actually makes one truly free.
Lamont can explain this supposed “contradiction” between the Saint’s theory and practice only by referring to “the influence of the [for him] accepted philosophical and theological ideas of his time,” and “the goals that his teachings on obedience were aimed at.” This too is typical of a liberal. A liberal can conceive of great thinkers and their ideas only as time-bound and serving a particular interest, because he himself is entirely shaped by the spirit of the age and seeks to promote a particular interest, as is the case with all ideologies. Thus, in his eyes, Saint Ignatius’s teaching must also be an ideology. According to our learned Doctor’s special insight, his teaching on obedience was “intended to provide for an initial training in discipline, of the kind practiced in the military profession that he had once followed.”
“Once this training was completed, it was also intended to ensure that Jesuits on independent missions internalized the objective that their superiors had sent them to accomplish, so that they would correctly and wholeheartedly carry out the missions they had been given.”
Certainly, that was the meaning of this obedience. Indeed, the perfect obedience Saint Ignatius taught his Jesuits was the foundation for allowing them to act independently. Where is the contradiction between theory and practice?
11. “But St. Ignatius did not intend to give religious superiors a totalitarian control over all the thoughts and actions of their subordinates,” the Doctor then declares in defence of the Saint.
“Unfortunately, the interpreters of his works read his writings literally, and credited him with upholding a totalitarian control of this kind as the model of religious authority.”
This is likewise a popular and well-known tactic: apparently defending the holy founder by attributing misinterpretations and distortions to his successors. To be sure, such misinterpretations exist, but not nearly as often or to the extent that liberals would have us believe.
“Some expositions of his teaching described obedience to an order than one suspects but is not certain to be immoral as an especially high and praiseworthy form of obedience. This statement about the exceptional merit of obeying orders that are morally dubious is made in St. Ignatius’s letter 150. The letter was in fact written for him by Fr. Polanco, his secretary; but since it went out under St. Ignatius’s signature, it benefited from his authority.”
We do not have access to that letter, so we cannot comment. However, we shall come shortly to obedience in relation to immoral orders.
The Doctor now proceeds to target the great Fr Rodríguez and his work, which we have quoted above, claiming that one finds in it “the full development of a tyrannical conception of religious authority and a servile conception of obedience.” Once again, we hear of “tyrannical authority” and “servile obedience”! At least this time he mentions that the subject at hand is religious authority, not authority in general. “This work,” Lamont tells us,
“… the most widely read manual of ascetic theology of the Counter-Reformation, was published in 1609. It was required reading for Jesuit novices up to the Second Vatican Council. Its contents were accepted as the correct interpretation of St. Ignatius’s teaching on obedience.”
So, for more than 350 years, was Saint Ignatius’s teaching misrepresented, and were Jesuits trained in a false obedience until “Vatican II” came along and finally delivered them?
12. In the first part of his treatise, where Rodríguez speaks of the examination of conscience, he provides some concrete examples regarding what a religious should examine himself about. Obedience is included. He lists the following points, which our Doctor finds offensive:
II. To obey in will and heart, having one and the same wish and will as the Superior.
III. To obey also with the understanding and judgment, adopting the same view and sentiment as the Superior, not giving place to any judgments or reasonings to the contrary.
IV. To take the voice of the Superior … as the voice of God, and obey the Superior, whoever he may be, as Christ our Lord, and the same for subordinate officials.
V. To follow blind obedience, that is obedience without enquiry or examination, or any seeking of reasons for the why and wherefore, it being reason enough for me that it is obedience and the command of the Superior.
Part I, Treatise VII, Chapter 5, p. 243.
We do not see in what sense Rodríguez here might have misconstrued or misrepresented the teaching of Saint Ignatius. Dr Lamont further finds it particularly objectionable that Fr Rodríguez explains how, in obedience, one finds the certainty of doing what is right, for if there is any mistake in the command given, it is attributable to the superior, not to the obedient subordinate. We are sorry, but we cannot see anything wrong in that either. In general, Fr Rodríguez’s treatise on obedience appears to us truly excellent, extremely well worth reading and considering. It contains nothing other than the proven Church doctrine on this subject, as is demonstrated by the fact that Rodríguez’s work has ecclesiastical approval and for centuries served not only within the Jesuit Order but also beyond it as the standard textbook of ascetical theology, as Dr Lamont himself confirms. One also finds that Fr Rodríguez supports all his statements not only with the words of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, but also with many quotations from Sacred Scripture, the Fathers of the Church, and holy Doctors of the Church such as St Augustine, St Gregory the Great, St Thomas Aquinas, St Bernard, etc., all of whom say the same thing as Saint Ignatius. Anyone wishing to contradict Fr Rodríguez here contradicts the entire teaching of the Church. And that is precisely what the liberals do, though they disguise it by castigating one exemplary author for his supposedly “false interpretations.”
13. Of course, for Fr Rodríguez as well, the perfect obedience he calls “blind obedience” is not absolute. He writes in the 6th chapter (Part III, Treatise V), from which we have already quoted above:
“This is the blind obedience so urgently recommended by the Saints and the teachers of the spiritual life. It is not called blind because we would have to obey in every respect in which something is commanded of us, even if it were a sin. That would be a great error.
“Our Father Ignatius states very clearly on this point in the Constitutions: ‘It is called blind because we must obey simply and straightforwardly in all things in which there is not an obvious sin, without inquiring into the reasons for what is commanded or asking about them.’”
Mr Lamont concedes that Rodríguez, “like other authors,” makes “the usual exception when it comes to obedience to commands that are clearly contrary to the divine law.” He claims, however, that Jesuit “probabilism” practically cancels out this exception.
“According to this doctrine, there is no sin in doing any action that a reputable authority maintains to be permissible; and one’s religious superior normally counts as a reputable authority.”
That, of course, is nonsense. For if “probabilism” says one may perform an action that a reputable authority deems allowable, this first applies only to a matter that is dubious, and secondly that “reputable authority” does not mean any old superior, however esteemed his authority might be, but a reputable authority in moral theology. No Jesuit would ever have been so foolish as to interpret the teaching on probabilism in the primitive way Mr Lamont does.
14. He then begins to delve into psychological considerations, saying that there is also a “psychological fact” that renders this exception—namely, only disobeying when something is obviously contrary to a divine command—obsolete. For “[i]nternalising and practicing this notion of obedience is difficult, and requires time, motivation, and effort.” If these endeavours succeed, they leave a lasting effect. Well, that is the case for any virtue. Acquiring a virtue requires “time, motivation and effort,” and once the virtue is acquired, it is—hopefully—of “lasting effect.” That cannot be the problem, then. Where is it, in his view? Lamont imagines it thus:
“Once one has destroyed one’s capacity to criticise the actions of one’s superiors, one cannot revive this capacity and its exercise at will. Following the directive to refuse obedience to one’s superiors when their commands are manifestly sinful then becomes psychologically difficult or even impossible – except perhaps in the most extreme cases, such as commands to murder someone, which are not the sort of sinful commands that religious superiors often have an interest in giving in any case.”
Very witty, that last remark! Yet offences against the sixth commandment—and that is what Mr Lamont is targeting—are just as blatantly immoral and repugnant, at least for a religious.
What a strange view the Doctor holds of virtue if he thinks it destroys natural human abilities instead of perfecting them, which is in fact what happens! How does he arrive at the absurd notion that a religious who practises the virtue of perfect obedience becomes incapable of critical thinking and legitimate or necessary resistance? An obedience with such characteristics would not be a virtue but a vice, stemming from the capital sin of sloth. It is actually the liberals, who pride themselves so greatly on their critical spirit, their “maturity” and “enlightenment,” who, in truth, uncritically and lazily parrot everything “science,” the media, the spirit of the age, and “political correctness” prescribe for them—and all this without having taken a vow of obedience! But what do croaking frogs in their puddle understand of the power of a wild horse, which when unbridled disperses and loses its strength, but when harnessed is ennobled and capable of the highest achievements? It is the same with human faculties, which are enabled to achieve their greatest exploits only by means of obedience.
15. Dr Lamont, however, regrets that “this conception of obedience did not remain a peculiarity of the Society of Jesus, but came to be adopted by the Counter-Reformation Church as a whole.” Instead of regretting it, he would do better to wonder whether it might not be a sign that “this conception of obedience” was not a “peculiarity of the Society of Jesus” but the general teaching of the Church. The Doctor continues:
“It became prevalent in the new institution of the Counter-Reformation seminary; the Treatise on Obedience of the Sulpician Louis Tronson gave St. Ignatius’s teaching and writings as the summit of Catholic teaching on obedience. The Sulpician adoption of this conception was particularly important because of their central role in the training of priests in seminaries from the seventeenth century onwards.
“The servile conception of obedience remained the standard one into the twentieth century. Adolphe Tanquerey, in his widely read and translated (and in many ways excellent) work Précis de théologie ascétique et mystique, could write that perfect souls who have reached the highest degree of obedience submit their judgment to that of their superior, without even examining the reasons for which he commands them.”
It is exceedingly odd and telling that, faced with such an overwhelming number of highly respected witnesses and weighty testimonies, the Doctor does not stop to question his own view but continues to believe that all these authorities were wrong, rather than his own liberal attitude. In his opinion, Saint Ignatius, Rodríguez, the “Counter-Reformation seminaries,” the Sulpicians, Louis Tronson, Adolphe Tanquerey, and many others—indeed, the entire Catholic tradition at least from the 17th to the 20th century—were in error. Only now—thanks to “Vatican II”—have we (re)discovered the truth. This is the typical liberal conceit, as arrogant as it is delusional.
Nor is that the end of our Doctor’s accusations against Saint Ignatius and his Jesuits.
To be continued in Part II…
Having outlined the true understanding of obedience and refuted Dr Lamont’s objections, Fr ZeloZelavi now turn to a specific historical accusation: the Jesuit practice of manifestatio conscientiae—the disclosure of conscience to one’s religious superior.
Lamont treats this as a sign of “totalitarian control,” and alleges it played a central role in forming a tyrannical conception of authority within the Church. But is this so, or part of a broader liberal mythology around power, submission and abuse?
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I remember first coming across a positive evaluation of "blind obedience" when reading through Dom Guéranger's Liturgical Year. I realized how liberalised my conception of obedience had been up to that point, and it was a moment where I had to decide to either hold on to my own ideas or conform myself to the mind of the Church. I hope and pray that I've done the latter.
But the esteemed abbot's words fit right alongside those of St. Ignatius and Fr. Rodríguez above.
I don't think it would change your evaluation or Fr. ZeloZelavi's critique very much, but I would like to note that there is a longer and more developed version of John Lamont's essay in the following anthology, which also contains some of the best R&R argumentation to be found anywhere:
https://osjustipress.com/products/ultramontanism-and-tradition
With contributions by Raymond Leo Cardinal Burke • Bishop Athanasius Schneider • Phillip Campbell • Stuart Chessman • Charles A. Coulombe • Roberto de Mattei • Edward Feser • Timothy S. Flanders • Rémi Fontaine • A Friar of the Order of Preachers • Matt Gaspers • Jeremy Holmes • John P. Joy • Robert W. Keim • John Lamont • Sebastian Morello • Martin Mosebach • Clemens Victor Oldendorf • Thomas Pink • Enrico Roccagiachini • Eric Sammons • Joseph Shaw • Henry Sire • Thomas Sternberg • Darrick Taylor • José A. Ureta