A moral lens on Vatican II and its legacy

by Dee Christie   

When the council began I was a newly minted Catholic mother, cinctured comfortably in the Bible belt of Oklahoma City. The Mass was in Latin, timeless, as were the rules. The second and third grade class I taught parroted the tenets of the unchanging faith. Nonetheless, my husband and I, dutiful believers, looked forward to the council. Today, I am a Catholic moral theologian, who—like Willian Shea—is old enough to “make a little noise without worrying about the consequences.”

No one could have predicted the changes Vatican II would bring in how we thought about morals. Arriving in Rome the Council Fathers—few “mothers" had ecclesial voices in those days—anticipated ratifying a previously prepared document on moral theology. The text was predictable: reaffirm the solid rock of past teaching; keep the faithful comfortable; go out for a nice Italian dinner. I like to believe that the Spirit had another idea.

An entirely novel document emerged. It placed the human person at the center of the moral project. The good of collective humanity, not simply robotic conformity to rules, is the proper yardstick of moral rightness. What comprises the good is derived from understanding who the human person is: essentially related to the psychological and biological “meat” (sarx) of the human self, to others and the world, to the physical universe bound in time and place, and to God. The content of human good might change, as new insights into reality surface. The premise is that God’s revelation does not exist only in the past. Rather it was ongoing, accessible in the “signs of the times.”

The centerpiece in sight of Gaudiium et spes can be traced to work by the Belgian moralist, Louis Janssens. His personalism was largely a response to the repressive ideologies rampant in early twentieth century Europe. His theology of the person predated the better known work of then Cardinal Ratzinger.  Janssens’ syntax is suspiciously congruent with the text of Gaudium et spes.

At the time Janssens also authored a book applying his methodology to religious liberty. It was circulated among the attending fathers as the council began. It outlined the connections between the human person and the moral imperative to serve the common good: coexistence, collaboration, and coparticipation. Although largely uncredited today, his ideas found their way into the council documents on religious liberty and relationships with other faiths. The latter, the short document on relationships with non-Christian religions (Nostra Aetate), deserves a second look in today’s diverse world.

Unfortunately, as liberation theologians know too well, comfortable structures change only with considerable difficulty. Early enthusiasm for the council’s proclamations and hope for breakout thinking is shadowed by the secure pyramid of church structure. Blind to the scientific and compassionate “signs of the times” we neglect to champion the good that could contribute to the proper flourishing of all human persons.

Under the righteous guise of “God-said” language, often little attention is paid to the real experience of persons whose biology makes them different or whose circumstances make it almost impossible to conform their moral choices to a set of rules. Hate crimes, more subtle perhaps than those portrayed in the black and white chronicles of World War II, are supported in church documents, in ecclesiastical lobbying, or by stark silence.

Pope Francis appears to be reopening the windows of Vatican II. He has emphasized the essential pastoral elements of Catholicism rather than rules. But much of what he has said has been reinterpreted by—are they frightened of change?—by people who claim to defend the rock-solid consistency of the church’s teachings. Even his upcoming encyclical on environmental change has been criticized before it has even been released. Like a curling team sweeping the ice in front of the rock to guide it in a certain direction, detractors insist that Francis, ironically a trained scientist, has no authority to speak on scientific things. And this in the face of the infamous “birth control” encyclical which draws moral imperatives from an interpretation of a biological process.

We aging Vatican II Catholics seek out liturgy that nourishes, communities that support, a cozy corner in the mainstream of modern conservative Catholicism. We grieve at the scandal that the church gives many. We watch as our children and grandchildren reject the church as irrelevant and even mean-spirited. As the Vatican II priests and bishops die off, little in the future seems to bode for total fulfillment of the exciting “open concept” vision of church. Makes one grateful to be old.

 

Dee Christie,  dlchristie@aol.com
John Carroll University

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