Until Vatican II, there had been no clear theology of the laity. This neglect may be attributed to a dominant ecclesiology during the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth century, which emphasized the Church as a society divided into two parts: the “Church teaching” and the “Church taught.” Yet the ecclesiology inherent in Newman’s essay, “On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine” accounts for not only tradition manifested “by the mouth of the episcopacy, sometimes by the doctors … sometimes by liturgies, rites, ceremonies, and customs,” but also “sometimes by the people … [as well as] events, disputes, movements, and all those other phenomena which are comprised under the name of history.’ In other words, doctrinal development happens in the lived experience of Christians, and often in the messiness of human events.

In the early twentieth century, those who absorbed important aspects of Newman’s thought, along with ideas from Möhler and others, came to understand the Church in incarnational terms, and reflect on the Church as the mystical Body of Christ, growing and maturing in the temporal realities of human experience. The documents of the Second Vatican Council embraced this larger ecclesiological vision, and articulated a theology of the laity that affirmed a positive role for all the People of God in the development of the faith and our growth in understanding it. The period since the council has proven to be a challenge, as Catholics have sought to understand how doctrine can development, and what the role of the faithful might be in that process.

  Pope Francis has not only embraced doctrinal development and sensus fidei as theological principles—he has expanded their scope. In Evangelii Gaudium (2013) he wrote, “I want a Church which is poor and for the poor. They have much to teach us. Not only do they share in the sensus fidei, but in their difficulties they know the suffering Christ. We need to let ourselves be evangelized by them.” He goes on to explain, in the spirit of Matthew 25, “We are called to find Christ in them, to lend our voice to their causes, but also to be their friends, to listen to them, to speak for them and to embrace the mysterious wisdom which God wishes to share with us through them.” Pope Francis seems to be pressing for a broader vision of who may be included among those who have the authentic sensus fidei fidelium. This Franciscan vision is a challenge, for it stretches our vision of the Body of Christ, and requires us to find Christ in those we least expect. Yet I dare say that each of us find ourselves, in our own circumstance in life, challenged to act on Pope Francis’s compelling vision of the Body of Christ.

For myself, this happened eight years ago when I experienced a “calling”—I don’t know how else to describe it—to bring undergraduate education to a maximum-security prison in Bonne Terre, Missouri, about an hour’s drive south of Saint Louis. It was an idea motivated by a deep conviction that a Catholic Jesuit university should be involved in such work.

What I did not anticipate as I worked to gain access to a prison classroom, was the transformation that would occur in my life as a theologian. In that setting I learned the meaning of Matthew 25, the truth of Catholic teaching on the sacramental presence of Christ in our world, and the capacity of divine love to transform places of desolation into spaces where grace abounds. I went to Bonne Terre to teach prisoners (men who had murdered, raped, and committed other unspeakable acts), and through teaching them, learned about the presence of Christ in my world.

The lay Catholic philosopher, Maurice Blondel, has helped me understand what Pope Francis is trying to teach us. Stressing the indispensible role of an “infallible Magisterium,” Blondel insisted that this “supernatural guarantee” is naturally founded on its functioning in concert with “the powers of each Christian and of all Christianity: viribus unitis docet discendo et discit docendo semper [With united effort one teaches in learning and one always learns by teaching].” In this reciprocal relationship, Blondel rested confident that “Divine assistance ensures the normal, indefectible exercise of this essential function [an infallible Magisterium].” Blondel articulated a vision of “Tradition” that is alive, dynamic, and fruitful when the “infallible Magisterium” remains engaged with the faithful, discerning the growth and progress of truth that emerges in the life of the church, truth which is rooted in scripture and apostolic teaching, and matured in the experience of “each Christian and all of Christianity.”

Blondel’s commentary was a twentieth century reprise of Newman’s admonition in “On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine.” Pope Francis is pressing us to grow in our understanding of this truth in the twenty-first century. My own hope, as a Catholic theologian, is that we can hear and respond to that call. This is not just a matter of academic debate or ecclesiastical discipline. If we are faithful to our calling, as John Henry Newman was, we too may participate in an expanded vision of the Christian faith in our time.