Given Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández’s record at the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, it would be fair to say that many of us are awaiting his forthcoming October document on the transmission of the faith with some measure of trepidation. After the controversy surrounding Fiducia Supplicans and the serious theological objections raised against Mater Populi Fidelis, Catholics have good reason to ask whether this latest intervention will provide the clarity and confidence the Church urgently needs, or leave us with further ambiguities to untangle.
He says his forthcoming document addresses a real Catholic catastrophe, but the remedy must offer more than another invitation to accommodate the culture that has abandoned Christianity.
Before examining Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández’s proposals for transmitting the faith, we should consider how he came to occupy the office responsible for safeguarding it, because his appointment tells us something about the theological assumptions now being brought to this enormous task. The story involves a longstanding relationship with Pope Francis, an unconventional literary background and a controversial understanding of how the Church’s doctrinal authority should operate, all of which help explain why his forthcoming document will receive unusually close scrutiny.
Fernández possesses substantial academic credentials, including biblical studies at the Gregorian University and a doctorate in theology in Buenos Aires. He participated in drafting the concluding document of the Latin American bishops’ conference at Aparecida in 2007, became rector of the Pontifical Catholic University of Argentina and subsequently Archbishop of La Plata. His ascent was closely associated with Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who supported his appointment as rector and, after becoming Pope Francis, appointed him an archbishop in 2013. These were the foundations of an enduring collaboration, rather than a friendship suddenly rewarded with a Vatican position.
Nevertheless, the publication most familiar to many Catholics remains his 1995 book, Heal Me with Your Mouth: The Art of Kissing. Its reflections on kissing, intimacy and physical affection appeared extraordinarily incongruous when their author was appointed to the Church’s highest doctrinal office. Fernández explained to the Associated Press that the book had emerged from work with young people in a parish, described it as teenage catechesis and denied that it drew upon his personal experience. He also said that he had refused subsequent offers to reprint it. Those explanations deserve to be heard, although they do not oblige Catholics to regard the project as wise or appropriate.
The serious objection concerns judgement rather than the mere existence of writing about human affection. Catholicism has never regarded the body as something unworthy of theological attention, but a priest’s treatment of intimacy requires discretion, particularly when presented as formation for adolescents. A work can contain no formally heretical proposition and still raise reasonable questions about pastoral sensibility. Equally, an embarrassing early publication cannot, by itself, establish that everything its author subsequently teaches is defective, and criticism loses its force when it substitutes ridicule for examination.
The reports of earlier Vatican scrutiny also require precision. In July 2023, Cardinal Gerhard Müller confirmed to the National Catholic Register that the doctrinal congregation had possessed a file concerning Fernández’s writings during the process of approving his appointment as university rector. Fernández himself acknowledged an exchange of correspondence in which he explained his thinking, maintaining that the objections were relatively minor and had been resolved. Approval was delayed, but eventually granted; the evidence supports a history of doctrinal scrutiny, rather than a claim that Fernández had been formally condemned for heresy.
His description of that experience nevertheless suggests a personal sensitivity towards the methods of the institution he now leads. Being questioned by a doctrinal congregation does not necessarily mean being persecuted, any more than possessing theological qualifications removes the need to answer objections. The Church has a responsibility towards those receiving theological instruction as well as towards those providing it, and an office charged with protecting the faith cannot treat examination of potentially erroneous teaching as intrinsically hostile.
Fernández’s reputation as Francis’s ghostwriter should likewise be handled carefully. His participation in drafting ecclesial texts is documented, and reporting has identified similarities between his earlier writing and passages associated with the Francis pontificate, particularly Amoris Laetitia. Such evidence supports his importance as a theological collaborator, but it does not establish the authorship of every disputed sentence. The official record of his involvement at Aparecida and in the family synods provides firmer ground than claims about who secretly wrote what behind Vatican doors.
Francis’s letter accompanying the appointment supplies the clearest evidence of what the Pope wanted. He criticised methods employed by the doctrinal office in earlier periods and expected Fernández to give greater emphasis to theological growth and evangelisation. Yet the letter also required dicastery documents to remain coherent with the Church’s perennial teaching. There is no need to embellish this with an unverified account of a more radical candidate whom Francis supposedly preferred, because the published commission already demonstrates his confidence in Fernández’s approach.
The question is whether that approach has delivered clarity, and Fiducia Supplicans offers substantial grounds for concern.
