Two weeks ago I wrote in this space about an unknown British politician claiming his 15 minutes of undeserved fame. Chris Coughlan decided to publicize his offense to the world because his priest publicized at his small parish that Coughlan should not receive Communion. Coughlan was among the small wedge of deciding votes to legalize euthanasia in Britain — though he won’t call it that. (For my previous post, see here.)

Fifteen days have gone by and… crickets. His valiant pastor — a true shepherd — called out his errant sheep. He went out on a limb. Will the pastor’s bishop support him or cut off the limb? So far, we don’t know. The bishop made the usual equivocal noises accompanied by handwringing. And the scandal that a Catholic Member of Parliament voted to advance his country down the slippery slope of euthanasia remains. Two weeks seems ample time to bring this issue to closure. But I fear that, in many ecclesiastical circles, the non-closure we see is considered “closure.” The Church today rarely seems to conclude something and move on, especially without a rearguard constantly attempting to relitigate what’s closed. After 50 years in Church circles, you begin to notice a pattern — especially the clerical culture’s tendency toward passive aggression. It transcends labels: both “progressive” and “traditional” clergy indulge in it.

Getting mad and having it out may be manly, but it is soooooo “unbecoming” of a cleric. No, they always have to walk around playing “wounded healers” who “bear all things” — including, in the name of equanimity, collegiality, and bella figura, the slings and arrows aimed at their sterling good names. All the while they will quietly resist changing or doing anything differently but will persist, with a forced smile, until you go away and the status quo returns. One wag once observed that, for most bishops, St. Paul is wrong. When the Apostle writes “these three remain: faith, hope, and love — and the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor 13:13), you can clearly see his error. The greatest of these is “peace and quiet,” no controversy — certainly no pastor making controversial remarks about worthiness to receive Communion (as if we talk about that! I thought we dropped 1 Cor 11:27-32 from the canon).

So, MP Coughlan got his publicity and is lauded in culture of death circles for his “brave” stance. His pastor fades into oblivion. And my guess is his bishop hopes the whole thing goes away, too.

But lack of closure is not limited to this one event. Consider the handling of the current controversy over Traditionis custodes. I repeat again: I am no advocate of the Traditional Latin Mass. I don’t attend it. I have no fundamental issues with the Novus Ordo. All that said, the fact that the stated reasons for Traditionis seem so undercut by the record and that the Vatican press spokesman could offer nothing more than to claim the exposure of that record as “incomplete” is but another example of incomplete “closure.” If the record is incomplete, complete it. We’re a synodal, transparent Church (except when we don’t want to be)! But I don’t expect that anytime soon. No, I expect modern “closure”: waiting it out until the critics go away and we can return to the stated narrative, no matter how accurate it is, or not.

If “synodality” is to mean anything different for the Church than occasional Potemkin Village “consultations” to glaze a veneer over whatever can be talked about or has been decided, it should mean the end to such clerical passive aggression. It should mean an end to reaching no closure and perennially kicking the can down the road.

And it should not mean selective closures.

Humanae vitae made it abundantly clear that contraceptive intercourse is intrinsically wrong. I agree with those theologians that affirm that teaching to be part of the ordinary noninfallible teaching of the Church. (Something doesn’t have to be formally proclaimed ex cathedra to be infallible: see Lumen gentium, 25). But that didn’t stop revisionist theologians from advocating “responsible dissent” (Curran) or even some clerics from saving those dissenters’ bacon (as when Cardinal O’Boyle failed to dislodge Curran from his perch at The Catholic University of America because others in the Church preferred “peace and quiet”). No closure there.

Ordinatio sacerdotalis made clear 36 years ago that the question of ordaining women to the priesthood is definitively closed. But that didn’t stop its proponents from still pushing the issue, directly or indirectly (so can we ordain women deacons?). No practical closure there.

Let’s ask what really motivated a document that upended a modus vivendi about the Traditional Latin Mass — a decree that, rather than provide the “unity” it claims, seems to have roiled the Church badly. Answer: well, that’s closed and we need not explain anything else to you. Franciscus locutus, causa finita… in perpetuum.

Such doctrinal flexibility, of course, serves real, if unstated, purposes. Just like the “living Constitution” lets you impose things the Framers never envisioned and even knew to be criminal (like men “marrying” men), so “living doctrine” means everything is ever up for grabs.

Take contraception. In his magisterial Contraception: A History, John Noonan (who wanted a change in Church teaching) admitted that all Christians considered contraception immoral until the 20^th century. All Christians is a pretty big fact, given that they didn’t even agree on what the Eucharist is but managed to agree on contraception. The Anglicans were the first to abandon that teaching circa 1930, followed by the Protestant mainstream. Noonan admitted Catholic teaching remained continuous with the tradition. So, why was “faithful dissent” from Humanae vitae tolerated? And why are there people in the current Pontifical Academy for Life that hem and haw about that clear teaching? Are we now to say unanimous Catholic teaching wasn’t unanimous and so we can “develop” the doctrine? Especially if we listen to the (selective) “experience” of its proponents? Or do we act as Catholics have always acted and say the matter is closed?

Is “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb 13:8) or shall we amend Scripture to read: “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and… we’ll get back to you”?

To all the psychologists pretending to be theologians these days, it’s worth pointing out that mental (and spiritual) health suffers from lack of closure.