Deathbed

“What? Oh, yeah. I suppose so. Ought to be home. Only trouble when they’re out that late. Unsupervised.”

“I suppose.” It wasn’t worth arguing over. Koesler opened the foil that protected his steaming burger. Others came home to a prepared meal, he thought. Oh, well, this is considerably better than nothing.

From his briefcase he took a soft-cover booklet entitled, Ethics Committees: A Challenge for Catholic Health Care. Sister Eileen had lent it to him. He had paged through it earlier. He wanted to read a couple of sections more carefully.

“How’d things go at the hospital today?”

“Pretty good. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It can’t be much different than making sick calls in the parish, eh, Father?”

“No, not much different. “ It was wildly different. Koesler did not care to seriously interrupt Harold’s evening news.

The ethics brochure contained a brief history as well as an explanation of the ethical directives. Koesler felt a twinge of parochial pride to learn that the first U.S. Catholic code of medical ethics, in 1920, was a reprint of the Surgical Code for Catholic Hospitals for the Diocese of Detroit. This basic code had been revised, in effect, only twice: in 1954 and again in 1971.

Briefly he wondered about updating such an important document only twice in more than sixty years. Especially since those years spanned a unique knowledge and information explosion, particularly in the field of medicine. The wheels of the Church grind exceedingly slow, he thought, but really!

He continued reading.

“Harold,” Koesler said at length, “do you know why doctors don’t tie a woman’s tubes in a Catholic hospital?”

“What?” Once he reran the tape, Harold blushed. He always got a bit flustered when confronted with anything even remotely sexual. “Uh . . . oh. It’s against the law. Isn’t it?”

Actually, Harold was quite certain it was against the law. At least it had been the last time he’d looked. But for all he knew, it might have been changed this morning. No telling what these hairy young whippersnappers were going to do next.

“Well, according to this, and I think it’s correct, it’s not so much laws that govern medical ethics as it is Church teaching.”

“Church teaching?” Harold’s mind might be partially tuned to a conversation with Koesler, but his eyes were riveted to the TV set. “Oh, the ordinary magisterium, you mean.”

“Precisely. The good old ordinary magisterium—the ordinary teaching authority of the Church.”

“That’s when the Church isn’t teaching infallibly.” Harold was just making sure that hadn’t changed either.

“That’s right. And there are those who claim there’s been only one infallible statement since the doctrine of infallibility was defined a little more than a hundred years ago at the First Vatican Council.”

“The doctrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into heaven, wasn’t it?”

“Right. So everything else—and that’s a lot—falls under the ordinary magisterium. And do you know how they came up with this medical code?”

“Just look at this, Father. This was the only goal the Red Wings scored last night.”

Koesler craned sufficiently to see the TV screen. He was just in time to see a red-suited skater sweep across the ice, receive the puck in a pass from his wing man, fake the goalie, and slide the puck inside the crease.

“They’re not doing very well, are they?” Koesler did not follow sports as faithfully as he once had.

Harold shook his head sadly. “Not like the good old days with the Production Line—Lindsay, Abel and Howe. Man, that Gordie Howe—what a player!”

“Those were the good old days, all right.” If he was no longer an avid jock, Koesler could at least remember. “And those blood-and-guts games against the Maple Leafs and the Canadiens!”

“Umm—excuse me, Father, what did you ask me about?”

“The Code of Medical Ethics. Know how they arrived at it?”

Harold shook his head. “Not rightly.” He returned to the TV.

“They asked for it.”

“Eh?”

“Catholic hospitals kept bugging the bishops to spell out medical moral ethics. Can you imagine that, Harold? Talk about the good old days ! Nowadays we hope the bishops and the Pope will keep quiet and not muddle things any more than they already have. Back then they wanted the word. And they surely got it. The bishops even sent the question of tubal ligation and material cooperation to the Vatican. And they got their answer. Now we have to live with it.”

Harold clenched his jaws. He didn’t care for talk that made light of the bishops and the Holy Father. But he was a guest in this rectory. And his parents had raised him to be well-mannered.

“So,” Koesler continued, “to return to my original question about why Fallopian tubes aren’t tied in a Catholic hospital: The reason is because the Vatican said so. That’s it.”

Harold felt compelled to say a word for Holy Mother Church. “But Father, that is the ordinary magisterium!”

“I know that, Father Harold. But to demur from the ordinary magisterium is not to be branded a heretic.”

“No, you’re not a heretic if you deny the ordinary magisterium. But you’re wrong.”

“That’s one view.”

“Oh, really, Father!” TV was disregarded. “I must object. I believe that Catholics may not dissent from Church teaching. And—not that I mean for a moment to presume to tell you your obligation—but pastors may not accept dissenting views in their parochial ministry. And finally, Catholics who have any doubt about Church teaching may suspend or withhold assent while they take every opportunity to resolve their doubt through study, consultation, and prayer.”

“In other words, Harold, Catholics who don’t agree with Church teaching may pray until they do agree.”

“You’re oversimplifying, Father.”

“Am I? What about our obligation to form our own conscience and follow it?”

“That’s true, Father. But the Church helps us form a true conscience.”

“Sure, Harold, the Church is supposed to help us. But in your explanation, the Church is not so much helping as it has taken over the whole job. Instead of working to inform our conscience and help form it, the Church simply invites us to pour our conscience in her mold and all the Catholics come marching out believing in, and judging everything in, identical ways.”

“Do you have another explanation?”

“I think so. Try this, Harold. Suppose, to begin, that we have an obligation to recognize the Church’s teaching role. And we also have an obligation to know what the Church is actually teaching. I mean, Harold, how many times have you had a discussion or an argument with someone only to eventually realize that the other person doesn’t really know what he’s talking about—that he doesn’t know what the Church actually teaches about a given point.”

“That’s true.”

“Okay, so we’re together so far. We recognize that the Church is an authentic teacher. And we must know correctly what the Church is teaching. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Next step: If we’re uncertain or in doubt about a teaching of the Church, we give the presumption of truth to the magisterium. I think you’ll agree to that, too.”

“Right.”

“Okay, now for the final step. If it happens that our own experience and conviction—which we carefully and prayerfully reflect on—tells us that the Church’s teaching on a specific matter is inadequate, incomplete or inapplicable to our personal life, then we have the right—the responsibility—to depart from the Church’s teaching and follow our own well-formed convictions and conscience.

“What do you say to that?”

“Depart from the Church’s teachings! Oh, Father, I could never believe that!”