Exegetes agree that the Gospel of Matthew bears witness to a key juncture in what was still an incomplete rupture of the Church with Judaism. Thus, certain passages seem very hard, particularly with regard to the Pharisees, while on the contrary others underline the continuity between the Mosaic law and the teaching of Christ. The text chosen by the Pope at the beginning of the encyclical--the episode of the young rich man (Mt 19:16-22)--reflects the unstable equilibrium between continuity as regards Judaism and the novelty of "Come, follow me" (v. 20).

The text is intriguing because, after the repetition and the confirmation of some of the prescriptions of the Mosaic law, it announces a lack on the part of the young man. The response to that question "What more must I do?" (v. 20) has an extremist tone: "Go sell all your possessions" (v. 21). This response of Jesus would seem to be a singular call, rather than a universal law: "You . . . follow me." But that singular aspect hardly appears in the encyclical, which insists almost exclusively on what is immutable and universal.

Thus, the text tends to weaken the tension between the immutable character of the law, in this case of the Mosaic law, and that which is unique in the meeting with Christ. Is the notion of truth as univocal as the encyclical suggests; can one short circuit history like that to situate oneself in the unchangeable and universal?

Take the Mosaic law. The Encyclical recalls quite rightly that its teaching is tied to the affirmation: "I am the Eternal, your God" (Ex 20:2)--and is thus an event of liberation. In a parallel manner, it is said regarding divorce: "It is because of the hardening of your hearts that Moses permitted it; in the beginning it was not so" (Mt. 19:9). Here the Scripture introduces a bit of lee-way, recognizing an intersection between the historical and the prescriptive which cannot be ignored.

In contrast, Veritatis Splendor compresses the two levels. For the very characteristic sentiment of accompanying history, which takes precise form in the invitation to follow Christ, it substitutes a quite Greek conception, rendered neo-Platonic through Saint Augustine, of an unchangeable and non-historical order. John Paul II has a very beautiful formula with regard to the Beatitudes: they delineate "a sort of self-portrait of Christ" (n. 16). There is here something other than a universal prescription, whose two pillars in our culture are Greek immutability and Kantian formalism.

This slippage from the historical to the immutable returns to shape the general tone of the Encyclical. It is more of an admonition, particularly with regard to certain theologians, than exploratory. The preamble is already restrictive. It begins on the "splendor of the truth," but immediately after there is an accumulation of words ending is "ism": individualism, subjectivism, etc. Rather than only denouncing deviations, it is necessary to look at the real underlying perplexities. One can criticize historicism, but behind it lies the discovery that history brings new situations and equally new perplexities--and hence a field of possible variations.

Those perplexities are reflected in the exegesis of Saint Matthew's Gospel. One reads there: "I have not come to abolish, but to complete;" "They have said, but I say to you". Kierkegaard had this point in mind when he spoke of the "proposition of the impossible." Luther, analyzing the different usages of the law, distinguished a law intended to institute order in human action from a law made in order to show our incapacity to accomplish it. The two functions are not co-terminus. The encyclical cites the second chapter of the Letter to the Romans which underlines the first aspect. But, in that same Epistle Saint Paul also describes the law as revealing sin, as established, one might say, to make us despair. Luther perceived this well.

The Encyclical does not ignore the dialectic of norm and of failure, of law and of grace, but it lessens the tension in favor of a directive teaching in search of coherence. In itself this deserves respect: Veritatis Splendor is addressed to a troubled community to which it gives precise and fixed points of reference. But it does not sufficiently take into account the real reasons for the trouble.

At the end of the second chapter on the nature of the moral act, on conscience, the Encyclical enters into theological controversy, taking up extremely disputed issues. In doing so, it fails to consider not only changes in customs, but evolution in reflexion, in doctrine. It stops at Saint Thomas as if nothing had happened since, as if Kant and Hegel had not written. It criticizes certain forms of consequentialism which theologians have drawn from utilitarianism. This latter is a respectable moral doctrine; it is not easy, but rigorous because it puts the general interest above individual interest. Further, one cannot eliminate one of the characteristics of consequentialism, namely its insistence that men are responsible for the consequences of their actions and not simply of their intentions and motivations. Paradoxically, after what I have said, the Encyclical has a very Kantian tone in not taking account of circumstances and exceptions. The limitation of Kant is his formalism; I find Veritatis Splendor to be not sufficiently problematic, but too directive.

The text of the rich young man places one on the cutting edge, confronting simultaneously both the continuation of the law and its rupture, to such a point that some commentators have underlined the anti-jewish, that is, anti-semitic character of the gospel of Matthew. Others have seen it, forty five years into our epoch, as a consolidation of the difficult position of Christians in view of their expulsion from the synagogue. The point of the text is: "What is lacking to me?" (v. 20), hence obedience to the law leaves a lack. Among other things, this manifests well the magnificence of the goal of the Encyclical which praises sacrifice, even martyrdom, and points in the direction of the excess, that is, of going beyond what the law requires.

Further, one must take into consideration the outcome of the exchange between Jesus and the young man. The latter "went away sadly" (v. 22). The difficulty of Matthew with regard to Judaism becomes manifest in that remark. It manifests that at a particular moment the good Jew cannot follow Jesus. If the question "What is lacking to me?" manifests an opening with regard to the law, the young man also closes that door right away. The gospel seems to him too much. It destabilizes him, and indeed the text of Matthew is very destabilizing.

The whole Encyclical in a way restabilizes life by playing on the register of the universal, which is applicable to all men and in all circumstances. With regard to time, it does this in terms of the immutable which is not effected by history. But the exemplary character of Jesus introduces something which regards not the immutable, but the perennial. The perennial character of the example is not the same thing as the immutability of the norm. It leaves place for an apprenticeship of the moral life through contact with historical experience.

Beyond these few marginal remarks I would express some reservations on the notion of nature. There appear to me three uses of the term in the Encyclical. Sometimes it means rational nature; it is rationality which constitutes human nature, and which distinguishes us from the rest of the animals. Sometimes nature is used for the integrity of the person, for his dignity. Here, the encyclical reflects a personalist Schelerian side deriving from the formation of the Pope and integrated into his Thomism. Thirdly, at times the biological dimension of nature is advanced.

If one does not treat the notion of nature critically one risks playing alternately on these three different registers and confusing the levels. For example, one may draw support from the dignity of the person or the universality of the human condition in order to justify a biologizing usage of the word "nature". Despite the denials by the Pope, I believe that this is what is happening in the area of sexual morality.

Splendor Veritatis, such is the title of the encyclical. But does not the beauty of truth shine more brightly than its rigor? We speak of the light not as an object of possession, but as that in which one exists. Most fundamentally, I hope to be in the truth; I hope also that, in a manner which I do not understand, one who disagrees with me also is in the truth. Such presence in the truth seems better honored by the metaphor of light and splendor, than by the notion of norm and law.