The Seal Cannot Be Broken: Priestly Identity and the Sacrament of Confession

By Richard Umbers
Religion and Ethics
August 27, 2014

http://www.abc.net.au/religion/articles/2014/08/27/4075554.htm

The Anglican Communion has demonstrated, yet again, how eager it is to keep up with changing times. In line with society's greater recognition of the devastation wrought by child sexual abuse, a recent Synod has sought to remove any impediment to good professional practice and individual conscience by allowing individual priests to report on serious crimes they may have learnt about through confession.

It has not taken long for commentators to wonder if the much slower moving Catholic Church will eventually follow suit. Thus, while Alison Cotes congratulates the Anglican Church in Australia for giving short shrift to the inviolability of confession, she also wonders if "in the fullness of time, the Roman Catholic Church will also see that what was good theology in 1215 may not be so useful, or even moral, 800 years later."

In an atmosphere of disgust and disappointment at the shocking betrayal of so many vulnerable parishioners on the part of abusers in the clergy, some tangible show of genuine reform on the part of the institutional Church is sorely needed. Bishops and priests need to be seen to be walking with Pope Francis in living out the Gospel, creating an environment of blessing for little children.

As Cotes reminded us, Jesus even taught that millstones should be placed round the necks of those who would scandalise the little ones, not that they should remain in office or be shifted around and hence be given new opportunities to prey.

The Pope has assured sex abuse survivors that bishops will be held accountable, but whether his personal commitment to child safety can reach into the wider institutional culture remains to be seen.

As an old Anglo-Catholic boarding school girl, Cotes knows enough to realise that change is easier to come by among Reformed Anglicans than it is among Roman Prelates. Before the Royal Commission hearing in Melbourne, Archbishop Denis Hart made it clear that confession is not up for grabs: "I don't have jurisdiction over the confessional. That is worldwide and absolute and the Catholic Church does not have a position to change that." Says Cotes: the seal of confession "in the church's own terms, [is] beyond all interference from outside institutions and particularly public opinion."

What Cotes fails to address in her comparison of Catholic and Anglican attitudes to confession are the differing theological beliefs that make it easier for the Anglican Synod to "lift the seal" than for the Catholic Church. Anglicans have always allowed for a breaking of the seal in cases of danger to the priest's own life. It is, therefore, only logical that they should extend that reasoning to the safety of the public in general. Barrister Garth Blake, who proposed to the Synod that the church should not act as a cloak for criminals, could not be any more succinct: "It seemed to me that protecting children and the vulnerable takes precedence over the confidentiality of confessions."

What is it, then, about Roman Catholic theology that would prevent the Church from adopting similar policies? Or, at the very least, making "turning yourself in" conditional upon absolution?

The Catholic Church operates with two different types of secrecy: one is professional privilege, the other is sacramentally sealed and hence considered to be inviolate. Codes of conduct routinely demand that communications between clients and specialists should remain confidential unless professional advice is being sought or disclosure would help prevent the occasioning of serious harm. It also means that confidentiality can be waived where legal requirements - such as court subpoenas, freedom of information requests, or mandated reporting - require this. The Australian Psychological Society's code of ethics, for instance, contains the following provision:

A.5.2. Psychologists disclose confidential information obtained in the course of their provision of psychological services only under any one or more of the following circumstances:

(a) with the consent of the relevant client or a person with legal authority to act on behalf of the client;

(b) where there is a legal obligation to do so;

(c) if there is an immediate and specified risk of harm to an identifiable person or persons that can be averted only by disclosing information; or

(d) when consulting colleagues, or in the course of supervision or professional training, provided the psychologist:

conceals the identity of clients and associated parties involved; or

obtains the client's consent, and gives prior notice to the recipients of the information that they are required to preserve the client's privacy, and obtains an undertaking from the recipients of the information that they will preserve the client's privacy.

Some forms of professional privilege, however, are taken so seriously that there would need to be a serious moral need for its suspension. The Pontifical Secrecy that surrounds the appointment of bishops or the inner workings of the Holy See is every bit as sensitive as the diplomatic and executive functions of any State. This is why Cardinal George Pell has rejected any form of "ambit claim" being made by the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. Nevertheless, such secrecy can be breached where civil law demands this and it is the constant tradition of the Church that obedience to authority never binds if it would be immoral to obey it.

Of a different nature to professional privilege is the Catholic Church's own understanding of the seal of confession. It is inviolate and will always remain so - the priest's individual conscience is not a relevant factor while he is in the confessional booth. To help gain an understanding of why this is so we can turn to King Henry VIII, in his Defence of the Seven Sacraments:

"For the People could never, by any human Authority, be induced to discover their secret Sins, which they abhor in their Consciences, and which they are so much concerned to conceal, with such Shame, and Confusion, and so undoubtedly to a Man that might, when he pleased, betray them. Neither could it happen, that among such great Numbers of Priests, some good, and some bad, indifferently hearing Confessions, they should all retain them; and that also, when some of them can keep nothing else secret; if God himself, the Author of the Sacrament, did not, by his especial Grace, defend this so wholesome a Thing."

Anglicans and Catholics agree that Christianity is not a do-it-yourself job - rather, faith comes through hearing (Romans 10:17) and is lived out in a Church setting. That is why ministerial priests play an indispensable supporting role in the sacramental lives of the faithful. Unlike the Anglicans, Catholic penitents who are conscience-bound to go to confession do so on the understanding that what they say is said to God alone, albeit through his ambassadors.

This is diplomatic sensitivity par excellence that must remain strictly secret. If a penitent thought that his conscience was subject to NSA monitoring, let alone that his confidences were able to be leaked by a "Father Julian Assange" or "Monsignor Edward Snowden," the sacrament would only be frequented by children and the lonely. This is why there is a basic agreement in the Catholic tradition that the priest must never speak of confessional sins, not even to the sinner himself, if he is no longer in confession. St. Thomas Aquinas even went so far as to say that if a priest were to divulge what is said in confession he would not only be committing sacrilege, he would also be lying since what is confessed to God cannot be said to be known by the priest as a man. As the prophet Isaiah foretold: "The entire vision will be to you like the words of a sealed book, which when they give it to the one who is literate, saying, 'Please read this', he will say, 'I cannot, for it is sealed'" (Isaiah 29:11).

The Catholic Church is well aware that some penitents may be criminals, but she regards even their confessions to God as sacred and inviolate. Jesus Christ, the innocent Saviour who died as a criminal, who was crucified between criminals, forgave a repentant criminal from the Cross. Christians believe that the greatest victim of any sin is the sinner, but also know that Christ has paid the penalty to redeem us.

Around the world, the Church is at the front line of aid and support to the victims of sin: the poor, the sick, the dispossessed, the pregnant but unmarried, but she is first and foremost a field hospital for sinners. Confession is not restricted to peccadilloes or crimes that carry a less-than-five-year jail sentence. Forgiveness is extended to criminals, to the lowest of the low, and bishops are not wrong to go to the peripheries and stand beside "sewer rats" in secular courts. Jesus did not condone corrupt business or prostitution, but he certainly welcomed repentant tax collectors and prostitutes into the kingdom.

Catholic teaching on the "seal of confession" helps define the very identity of the priest as a mediator between the baptised and God. Despite recent and well-publicised examples to the contrary, we are not supposed to be company men hushing up the crimes of a corrupt business empire. Ordained priests are ministers to men and women in the internal forum of their conscience - and that is sacred ground.

I do not know what recommendations will ultimately be forthcoming from the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, but mandatory reporting of crimes heard in confession would lead to an inevitable clash of Church against State. If, God forbid, a priest should ever be placed in the dock and inquiry made as to another person's confession, the faithful priest will have no recourse but to be found in contempt of the very court he strives to uphold. Indeed, we have already seen this play out in the United States when a certain Father Kohlmann was asked to testify about a thief whom he had directed to restore stolen goods. The Protestant judge in the matter of People vs. Phillips (1813) described the dilemma as follows:

"If he tells the truth, he violates his ecclesiastical oath; if he prevaricates, he violates his judicial oath. Whether he lies or whether he testifies the truth, he is wicked, and it is impossible for him to act without acting against the laws of rectitude and the light of conscience."

In the light of churchmen's past failures, however, can such a confrontation be avoided? The pressure group Catholics for Renewal have suggested an alternative to legislation that would fail to recognise the seal of confession: "However horrendous the crime and sin, State legislation to breach this trust would be ineffectual and would simply isolate the perpetrators from a potentially helpful source of guidance and contrition." What they offer by way of acknowledgement of the confessor's duty not to be lax is a policy that would link penance to self-incrimination. That is to say that someone who had confessed to acts of child sex abuse, for instance, would not be forgiven for his sins until he had submitted himself to legal authorities.

Theologically and practically, however, this won't wash as it involves an indirect violation of the seal. Although penances tended to be public in the early Church - especially in cases of idolatry, homicide and adultery - once the early fervour of Christians had settled, the secret nature of confession meant that the penances had to be of such a nature that other people would not be able to guess at whether or not a serious sin had been committed. St Basil, for instance, was keen to ensure that the penances of adulterous women should be lighter than for men so that they never fall under the suspicion of having committed what was, in the fourth century, a civil crime.

Unlike professional privilege that turns on consent, concern for the seal means keeping silence even when a penitent gives permission to a priest to speak. How so? Because future penitents could be put on the spot in a court of law - if they refused to give permission it could be supposed that they are indeed guilty of having confessed to the crime.

Alison Cotes captures public opinion when she calls for "millstones at dawn," but she is also right to say that Catholic teaching is not subject to public opinion. We are not afraid to be signs of contradiction (Luke 2:34). Despite what many have seen and interpreted from evidence presented to the Royal Commission, it is not aloofness from the harm that victims suffer or undue reverence for ancient tradition that informs priests' unfaltering commitment to the confessional seal. On the contrary, it is a readiness to give testimony to God's forgiveness that leads us to follow the example of Christ before Herod: "He plied him with many questions, but Jesus gave him no answer" (Luke 23:9).