The publication of the judgment of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith against Father Robert Nugent and Sister Jeannine Grammick comes as a tragic blow to two pioneers of pastoral care among gay Catholics. It is designed to put a permanent end to their life's work.

But the action of the congregation has a troubling subtext which could lead to tragic consequences on a much wider scale. Father Nugent and Sister Grammick were among the most prominent figures in a widespread movement at the level of the local churches to reach out to gays and lesbians, arguably the most marginalised members of the Catholic community.

Impressive efforts in this direction have also been made by several episcopal conferences. In 1997, for instance, the US bishops produced the landmark document Always Our Children, which they intended to be an "outstretched hand".

Given the delicacy of the bridges that have been built and the torment endured by lesbian and gay Catholics in the past, one would have thought the congregation's paramount concerns would be of a pastoral nature. Not so.

According to Father Nugent, after the judgement of the congregation had been pronounced, that body had insisted he sign a statement condemning homosexual acts as "intrinsically evil" rather that the more pastorally sensitive "objectively immoral" alternative he had proposed.

Father Nugent's terminology, the congregation claimed, would "obscure" the meaning of the text and therefore could not be used even for pastoral motives. The harshness of the sentences and the very public nature of their announcement compound the impression of pastoral insensitivity. Two figures, seen as the compassionate face of the church by the gay community, have been peremptorily silenced.

If the congregation's tactics are calculated to restore truth and order in the ranks, its officers are out of touch with the mentality of young Catholics raised in the post-conciliar period.

For some years in the late 1980s I was a member of Quest, the British support group for gay Catholics. During this time I became aware that a sea-change had occurred in attitudes to church authority.

Whereas my generation had internalised the then extremely negative teachings on homosexuality, and endured paroxysms of guilt as a result, younger Catholics accepted their homosexuality as natural. What they sought, and seek, from the church is some sign of acceptance. Among this generation, heavy-handed displays of authority are much more likely to cause defections than restore discipline.

But in addition to torpedoing bridge-building efforts within the church, this affair has a wider significance. I recall an occasion when I was manning Quest's stand at the annual Gay Pride fair in London.

A banner declaring our identity as an "organisation for gay Catholics" provoked gales of laughter from passers-by. For them the terms "gay" and "Catholic" were incompatible.

Today, the Catholic Church risks being seen by the gay community as a world leader of homophobia. Indeed, coming as it does at a time when gays are still reeling from hate crimes such as the Soho bombing and the murder of Matthew Shepherd in the United States, this announcement and its fierce terminology is open to exploitation by the fascist right.

How does this image of strident condemnation square with the church's mandate to present the compassionate face of Christ to mankind?

In other Catholic circles, however, the reaction to the congregation's notification has been gleeful. For the American organisation Human Life International, pastoral sensitivity was not an issue. In a press release it declared that the action was "welcomed with open arms by Catholics remaining faithful to the magisterium of the church".

The congregation investigation was, in part at least, in the words of its official announcement, a response to "numerous complaints and urgent requests" from groups such as Human Life International. It and organisations of a similar stripe, such as Opus Dei, exercise a growing influence in those Vatican departments which deal with sexual ethics.

Father Nugent's account of the 20 years of investigation to which his work had been subjected reveals a disturbing shift in the demands of his inquisitors. Initially, Rome's concerns were in a sense pastoral, in that they were focused on Father Nugent's public pronouncements.

He has said, however, that once the investigating commission had ascertained that there were no important errors in this area, "the primary object of the exercise" became "an attempt through a uniquely crafted profession of faith to elicit my internal adherence" to an official moral teaching which is not a fundamental article of faith. In other words, the object of the exercise became purely inquisitorial.

It would be tragic indeed for lesbian and gay Catholics and for all those, including many bishops, who have laboured over the years that homosexuals should be accepted with respect, compassion and sensitivity, (to quote the Catechism of the Catholic Church) if this latest Vatican action should signify a move away from the new pastoral approach back to one that is harsh and judgmental.

Gordon Urquhart is the author of The Pope's Armada and has just completed a new book, The World and the Flesh.