Catholic Theology in the 20th century is a fascinating history filled with drama, brilliant minds, and a good dose of polemics. In the late 19th century and early 20th century, certain strands of radical immanentism made their way into Catholic theology. Dogma began to be understood—by some—merely as the religious expression of a community. This would mean that dogma goes through evolutionary processes which mirror the Church’s state of consciousness in a given era. These ideas were perceived as threats to the Church’s faith, leading to religious subjectivism and to the relegation of “truth” to historical contingency. This called into question the nature of truth itself, and, therefore, of Revelation—not to mention the Church’s authority. And so, the Neo-Scholasticism which reigned at the time rightfully combatted what was dubbed “modernism.”
However, after the Church’s strong condemnation of modernism, an additional concern emerged and was expressed by many great Catholic intellectuals: theology, especially in seminaries, had become overly static, rationalist, and restrictive. Some philosophers and theologians perceived that—in reaction to subjectivism and experiential relativism—theology had become merely objective and extrinsic. A propositional understanding of truth, stemming from Francisco Suarez, had become pervasive. This view tended to reify Revelation, thereby despoiling it of its life-giving effects in the believer. Meanwhile, the faithful were generally cut off from the spirituality of the liturgy by occupying themselves with separate forms of personal piety. The liturgical movement took on greater impetus in the early 20th century, producing the recovery of Gregorian chant and various reforms by Pius X and Pius XII. Nonetheless, the sacraments were often perceived as remedies for the individual, as opposed to mysteries of union which generated the communion of the Church.
It is within this context that an incredible explosion of Catholic intellectual life took place, especially after the Second World War. A spirit of optimism reigned, especially in light of the failures of technocratic liberalism—which the bloodshed of the two wars had manifested. Thinkers such as Etienne Gilson, Jacques Maritain, Maurice Blondel, Henri de Lubac, Yves Congar, Louis Bouyer, Romano Guardini, Joseph Ratzinger, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and many others, contributed to this intellectual outburst. Many of these thinkers were dissatisfied with the answers Catholic theology was giving as well as its one-sided defensive stance toward modernity. What they sought was a way to engage modernity critically, to respond to genuine questions and to lay bare errors which modern thought had espoused in its untethered movement away from the Tradition.
The Suarezian type of Neo-Scholasticism that reigned was criticized by these theologians and was perceived as unable to address the question concerning the relationship between history and dogma. The divorces between theology and history, between sacra doctrina and piety, between Mary and the Church, between legal structure and sacramental reality, between morality and spirituality, and between devotions and the spirit of the liturgy, were among the objects of this criticism. At the heart of these divisions, according to Henri de Lubac, was an extrinsicist understanding of the relationship between nature and grace. This extrinsicism was said to have contributed in part to the spread of an in-house secularism, as Ratzinger pointed out in his 1958 article The New Pagans and the Church.[1]
Viewing theology as a catalogue of truths (or merely a science based on ahistorical principles) which excludes history and subjectivity so as to secure objectivity at all costs, is necessarily reductive. Divine Revelation cannot be reduced to a “set of truths” because it is, first and foremost, a person: Jesus Christ (as the Council’s constitution on Divine Revelation went on to teach). The dangers of a malleable historicism and of a radical immanentism are very real, and, resisting this with ahistorical propositions, and with concepts of truth which (unfortunately) bracketed off the subjectivity of the believing church, did indeed offer an effective “no” to these errors… but what is the full picture and what does the Church say “yes” to? The history cat was let out of the bag. What does the Church do now? Indeed, the Church needed to address in a thorough manner both history and subjectivity, which, after all, are essential aspects of Christology.
Ratzinger, explaining the modernist crisis, comments on this context:
This development reaches its zenith in the various measures of Pius X against Modernism (the decree Lamentabili and the encyclical Pascendi [1907], and, finally, the ‘oath against Modernism’ [1910]). During these years there arose an embittered discussion that found expression in such tragic figures as Loisy and Tyrell, men who thought they could not save the faith without throwing away the inner core along with the expendable shell.[2]
The thinkers mentioned above realized the threat the Church faced in her current context and sought to retrieve the broader Tradition—with a special place given to the Bible and the Church Fathers—in order to address the new questions which a splintered Christianity and a secularized society brought with them. Additionally, the Church knew that it needed to complete and bring to a close the interrupted endeavors of the First Vatican Council: Ratzinger explains that “Both Trent and Vatican Council I set up bulwarks for the faith to assure it and to protect it; Vatican Council II turned itself to a new task, building on the work of the two previous Councils.”[3]
And so, Pope John XXIII announced his intention to convene the bishops of the world in what would become the Second Vatican Council. Preparatory commissions were established and many theologians, mostly from the Roman Curia, conducted the work of drafting documents which would be presented to the bishops of the world. The Council convened in October of 1962, and, at this first session, deliberations began among the bishops—who had brought with them theological experts for consultation. Among the more famous of these periti were Yves Congar, Karl Rahner, Louis Bouyer, Gérard Philipps, Joseph Ratzinger, and Henri de Lubac. Ratzinger comments on this first session when he writes: “The fact that no parties were formed indicated a sense of responsibility toward truth. No Council can allow the individual to be subsumed under some kind of party; each person must be responsible only to his conscience and his theological convictions.”[4]
The very first document to be promulgated was the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum Concilium. It was almost unanimously accepted and, for the most part, very little debate took place over the text. Important insights concerning the intent behind this document were recorded by Ratzinger in his highlights of the session: “The essence of the ancient Christian liturgy in the texts was no longer visible in the overgrowth of pious additions,”[5] and, furthermore, “in practice this meant that while the priest was busy with his archaic liturgy, the people were busy with their devotions to Mary.”[6] But most importantly, an important theme emerged from the very beginning of the Council: “The text [on the liturgy] implied an entire ecclesiology and thus anticipated (in a degree that cannot be too highly appreciated) the main theme of the entire Council—its teaching on the Church.”[7]
Much could be said on the implementation of this constitution on the liturgy, but that would exceed the scope of this short history. And so, after lengthy debates over the document which would become the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation, the first session came to a close. Following this first session, the death of Pope John XXIII—although his pontificate was understood to be a transitional one due to his age—took the bishops by surprise. The cardinals, however, elected his successor Pope Paul VI, who continued to preside over the unfolding of the Council.
During the second session, the bishops engaged in a lively and lengthy discussion on the nature of the Church. A richer and fuller ecclesiology from the sources eventually emerged from these discussions. Commenting on this session, Ratzinger brings up certain inadequacies of emphasis that could be found in the history of ecclesiology: “It got off to a bad start by being a definition ‘against’ something. Bellarmine, in opposition to the reformers’ idea of an invisible Church, placed great stress on its institutional character.”[8] Naturally, alongside ecclesiology, there arose debates over the nature of the episcopate, especially as it relates to the primacy of the Pope—what is called “collegiality.” Ratzinger explains: “The Council’s goal was to correct the one-sided functions of an overemphasized primacy by a new emphasis on the richness and variety in the Church as represented in the bishops.”[9]
An argument arose on whether the Council should promulgate a standalone text on the Blessed Virgin Mary or if the relevant passages should be included in the Constitution on the Church (this would be settled at a later session). It became clear that ecclesiology was one of the major themes of the council, and so, this naturally led to the question of ecumenism. Through the influence of Henri de Lubac (as well as Joseph Ratzinger) rich themes concerning the eucharistic dimensions of the Church (and therefore of its sacramental reality) were able to lend themselves to a deepened understanding of the role of ecumenism in the Church’s current historical setting. Ecclesial elements were clearly present in fragmentary ways in many ecclesial communities. And so, the Church was able to acknowledge the presence of Christ’s work in separated communities. But in order to preserve the uniqueness and identity of the Catholic Church alongside this need for Christian unity, the Council emphasized that the Catholic Church alone is the fullness of Christ’s Church as the time-bound ecclesial subject of faith that she is (hence the use of the term subsistit, supposedly coined by the Neo-Scholastic theologian Sebastiaan Tromp). Finally, in light of the atrocities of the holocaust, the Council prepared a text on the Jewish people (which it eventually inserted into the document on world religions Nostra Aetate).
The third session contained heated and lengthy debates over a document on Religious liberty. Many Catholics to this day are divided over this document and how to interpret it.[10] For the sake of this short history, Ratzinger’s words will suffice: “Force used to promote faith injures nothing so much in the long run as this faith itself.”[11] Finally, at the end of this third session the document on ecumenism Unitatis Redintegratio was promulgated, as well as Lumen Gentium, arguably the most important document of the Council, with the Marian passages inserted as the 8th chapter (recovering the emphasis of Mary as the icon of the Church, and of her being the Church at its source).
In the fourth and final session of the Council the last of the debates took place, especially over the document on Religious Freedom Dignitatis Humanae. Then followed the promulgation of Dei Verbum, in which the council clarified that there is only one source of Revelation—Jesus Christ—and that we come to know and believe in him through the preaching of the Church and the reading of scripture within the sacramental context of the liturgy. This life of communion with the Word through history is the Church’s Tradition, and it is guided by the Magisterium. The Council Fathers also promulgated Gaudium et Spes, which, although it proved controversial after the Council for being too optimistic concerning human progress, addressed itself to the modern world pointing to Christ as the only source of genuine progress. Throughout his pontificate, John Paul II (and Benedict XVI followed him on this) authoritatively interpreted Gaudium et Spes through the hermeneutical key of its 22nd paragraph—which presented a theological anthropology stemming from the theology of Henri de Lubac. The Council Fathers went on to promulgate Christus Dominus (on the nature of the episcopate), Nostra Aetate (on world religions), and Dignitatis Humanae (on religious freedom). A grand papal mass concluded the council, alongside the mutual lifting of the excommunications between the Roman Pontiff and the Patriarchs of the East.
When one reads the documents of the Second Vatican Council, what emerges is a Christocentric, and thereby Trinitarian, ontology; a personalist understanding of Revelation and of truth which sees the Word of God as that which brings about the communion of the Church. This communion is comprised of human persons made in the image of the Trinity and made for communion with the Trinity. In other words, Vatican II applies the Christological and Trinitarian conclusions of previous councils to ecclesiology and anthropology. In this way, history and ontology are brought together in a Christological synthesis. This Christological unity offers a rich response to the modernist crisis and to so many of the contemporary questions which the enlightenment has raised; all of this within a spirit of openness to the broad tradition which is mediated and transmitted in a fresh and fruitful manner.
Dogma, if it has real objective content, must possess the same identity yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Yet this continuity, to be authentic, must refuse to betray Revelation by reducing it to mere propositions from the past. Continuity takes place when the life of yesterday’s community is handed down to today’s community. To oppose “life” to “truth” or “life” to “objective content” is to misunderstand “communion.” The life of the community has as its source communion with Christ—who is the truth. The importance of speculative truth and propositional content is not thereby diminished, but contextualized within a richer understanding of what is immutable. Thus, we see how truth and communion are inseparable and are the very ground of continuity within history.
The conclusion, therefore, based on Gaudium et Spes 22, is that the proper hermeneutic of the Second Vatican Council is Christological, and this Christological hermeneutic is only found in its fullness within an ecclesial context. Vatican II is a council of reform, of a more profound “handing down” of the Church’s life (which is what all councils are designed to do). Reform is a call for the Church to remember anew, to discover more deeply the life which animates her already. The Bible itself attests to this inseparability of the truth with the life which flows from communion: “The church of the living God [is] the pillar and bulwark of the truth” (1 Tim 3:15, NRSV),[12] and Jesus’ words: “I am the resurrection and the life” (Jn 11:25). Let us not forget that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb 13:8, emphases added).
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[1] Joseph Ratzinger, Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life (Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1988), 268.
[2] Joseph Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II (New York: Paulist Press, 1966), 41.
[3] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 44.
[4] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 30.
[5] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 129.
[6] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 131-132.
[7] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 31.
[8] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 73.
[9] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 184.
[10] The best work on this subject, it seems to me, is Freedom, Truth, and Human Dignity by David L. Schindler and Nicholas J. Healy.
[11] Ratzinger, Theological Highlights of Vatican II, 210.
[12] The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version (San Francisco: American Bible Society, 1865).
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