What Will the Catholic Church Look Like in 100 Years? Part Two.

[See the Part One blog for the context of these ideas]

The second “back to the future” moment at Vatican II is its re-shaping of the Catholic Church’s relationship to other Christian Churches and communities, especially those formed by the Reformation and its aftermath.  The Council can be viewed, in a sense, as going back 450 years to find a way forward for the future, so that the Catholic Church can get beyond its entrenched anti-Reformation identity.  Vatican II, in its Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen Gentium) and its Decree on Ecumenism (Unitatis Redintegratio) acknowledge the divisions within the Christian Church universal and affirm our doctrine that the fullness of Church resides in the Catholic Church, but the Council documents do not rely on language of heresy or condemnation toward other Christians. They are our “separated brothers and sisters,” who share with us a common baptism.  Lumen gentium talks about how all Christians, by virtue of that shared baptismal identity, are already at least partially incorporated into the one Church; the Decree on Ecumenism talks about a “hierarchy of truths” that guard the central Christian mysteries, but allows for a unity amidst differences on that which is not as central.

Looking back at the history, it is sad but not surprising that an antagonistic-and defensive approach to theology and catechesis took hold.  The Reformation and the Catholic Counter-Reformation response, combined with the political climate of the times (think of the horrors of the 16-17th c. “wars of religion”), led to splitting apart of the western Church in a way that made the theological enmity between Catholic and Protestant seemingly irreconcilable. Moreover, it created in Catholic theological circles a narrowing of focus—centered on the questions and issues that divided Catholic and Protestant—and to catechisms and manuals of theology and even liturgical rites that seemed complete, with no need to explore much further.  One of the many amazing graces that flows from the Second Vatican Council is the way that the Council Fathers enabled a broader and deeper understanding of sacramental theology and liturgical practice, as well as ecclesiology in general, so that what seemed irreconcilable becomes open for discussion and deeper understanding. 

They do this mainly by employing a new type of rhetoric in the conciliar documents, which is very different from the Council of Trent and past councils, something pointed out a number of years ago by the Jesuit historian John O’Malley.  Instead of a series of assertive dogmatic statements in the form of canons and anathemas, which by necessity narrow the focus to what is true about “our” understanding and false about “theirs,” the Council Fathers at Vatican II use what O’Malley calls an “invitational style.”  This unprecedented conciliar rhetorical style was designed to persuade rather than condemn; inviting conversion rather than threatening punishment.  That is why so many of the documents include very traditional (and from the standpoint of an older apologetic approach, safe and comfortable) theological language, but then such language is juxtaposed to slight nuances, a newer insight, or placed within a broader framework, which then invites us to re-think what that traditional language means in its fullest sense. To truly understand what the Council Fathers intended, attention must be given to both the theological language used, which is often very traditional, and the “what is new” in terms of context and nuance.

Two quick examples from Lumen Gentium.  Chapter III of that document is titled “On the Hierarchical Structure of the Church and in Particular on the Episcopate.”  Much of the language here is a re-stating of what had become standard practice to assert in the face of many Reformation attacks on the necessity of ordained ministry, including bishops and the pope.  In short, that Jesus Christ willed the hierarchical structure of the Church, and especially the episcopacy.  But a key shift happens in the development of this document.  Originally placed in the most prominent position, this chapter is revised and placed after Chapter II, which is titled “On the People of God” and after the first chapter “On the Mystery of the Church.”  First and foremost, the Church exists to point the way to Christ and the salvation he brings. The Church does not exist for itself.  It is to be “like a sacrament” of Christ, “a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union with God and of the unity of the whole human race.”  Therefore, the focus is on Christ first and always, then on the Church as the entire People of God, and only then look at the mission the hierarchical structure has within the Church as a whole.  The Council uses very “Counter-Reformation sounding” language but places it within a broader framework, including some newer language, so that these concepts are ordered in a way that makes it much more clear that hierarchy is at the service of the full unity of the whole People of God and that all the People of God, not just the ordained, have essential charisms that contribute to that unity.  In addition, calling the Church as a whole to be “like a sacrament” or even more straightforwardly “the universal sacrament of salvation” (Gaudium et Spes, 45), opens the door to a deeper understanding of the sacraments.  Losing nothing of the Counter-Reformation insistence that it is Christ who always makes the sacrament efficacious (ex opere operato), emphasis can also be given to how the sacramental event needs to be as fruitful as possible (ex opere operandi), thus putting the Counter-Reformation’s almost singular focus in theology on sacramental validity and in canon law on the minimum conditions necessary for the valid celebration of the sacraments into a broader framework.  This in turn opens the door to serious and significant renewal in all the sacramental rites and rubrics, so that “all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy” (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, 14).

A second example.  The document also has declarations such as “Whosoever, therefore, knowing that the Catholic Church was made necessary by Christ, would refuse to enter or to remain in it, could not be saved” (no. 14). Pretty straightforward Counter-Reformation apologetics, right?  But then the document goes on to distinguish “full” and “partial” incorporation in this Church and recognizes that salvation is not limited to visible membership in the Catholic Church.  Also, right near its beginning, the document reminds us that this universal Church we are speaking about, hoping for, and moving toward includes “all the just, from Adam and from Abel, the just one, to the last of the elect” (LG, 2).  In other words, what the Council Fathers mean by “Church,” when we are talking about those who may be saved, is whoever has accepted or will eventually accept God’s saving grace, whether we can visibly identify them or not.  This gets reinforced in no. 8 of Lumen Gentium, where the Council Fathers, talking about the visible Church, explicitly reject the phrase “The Church is the Catholic Church” and instead deliberately use the words “subsists in”: “This Church constituted and organized in the world as a society, subsists in the Catholic Church.”  Furthermore, the mystery of who has or will accept God’s saving grace—and so are part of “all the just from Adam and from Abel”—is not something we can easily visibly identify in any case.  This is pointed out, perhaps most clearly, in a section from The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et Spes, no. 22), one of Pope (St.) John Paul II’s favorite passages by the way, where it states: “All this holds true not only for Christians, but for all men of good will in whose hearts grace works in an unseen way. For, since Christ died for all men, and since the ultimate vocation of man is in fact one, and divine, we ought to believe that the Holy Spirit in a manner known only to God offers to every man the possibility of being associated with this paschal mystery.”

This unique rhetorical style makes it tempting to isolate traditional statements and argue that Vatican II offers nothing new in terms of Church doctrine; that it was a “pastoral council” only; or that it cannot be used to show any development in dogma or doctrinal understanding, and so the Tridentine post-Reformation understanding stands without change or nuance.  But such an approach misses the forest for the trees, and therefore misses very significant developments in the Church’s self-understanding, which in turn fails to do justice to the Council.  Something that is not explicitly stated but can be seen when taking in the Council as a whole: the Reformation/Counter-Reformation era is over.  We are to ground our ecclesiology in the unity Christ intended for his Church, not in the historical divisions that have arisen.  Just as Vatican I, in a sense, was an expression of a truncated (not false, truncated) papal ecclesiology, so Catholic theology and the theological manuals that were developed post-Reformation witnessed to a truncated ecclesiology in general, which affected both sacramental theology and liturgical practice, centered on an apologetical approach that was concerned about what divides us rather than what unites us in Christ.  Honed over the generations that followed, such an approach to theology became in many ways quite stagnant, as though theology had reached all the necessary answers to questions, and we could simply “proof text” the full doctrinal truth through a series of quotes from Scripture or previous papal and conciliar decrees.

The Second Vatican Council reaches across that 450-year divide and opens up possibilities for a new future. It does this through Pope (St.) John XXIII’s invitation to Orthodox patriarchs and bishops to participate in the Council, and to Protestant leaders and theologians to be official observers.  It employs, as mentioned, a new type of rhetorical style.  The Council does this in its Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelations (Dei Verbum), where the Council calls for a renewed appreciation for the importance of knowing, praying with, and connecting our lives to the Sacred Scriptures, even calling for “easy access” to the Scriptures for “all the faithful,” including encouragement for translations of the Scriptures into the vernacular in “cooperation with our separated brethren” so that “all Christians will be able to use them” (Dei Verbum, 22).  The Council Fathers even say that the Church “at the same time holy and always in need of being purified, always follows the way of penance and renewal” (LG, 8). Not quite the Reformers’ cry of Ecclesia semper reformanda but not that different either.  In these and many other ways, the Council is pointing toward a future Church that is not fixated on the wounds and resulting divisive approaches to theology and Church that occurred as a result of the Reformation.

This brief look at a second “reaching back to move forward” understanding of the Second Vatican Council opens up the third key question for the Church in the next 100 years (see Part One on this topic for the first two).  Where, how and with whom will the Catholic Church direct its ecumenical energies?  Because, in principle, Vatican II raised the hope for full Christian unity in the future, there was an initial enthusiasm generated in ecumenical circles in the aftermath of the Council.  Theological dialogues and ecumenical energy were directed especially toward those denominations where shared communion might become possible, leading some to believe that many of the obstacles preventing Eucharistic intercommunion could reasonably be removed.  Shared understanding and common action were established on social issues related to civil rights, poverty, nuclear weapons, economic justice, and the common good.  But as many of these Churches began to ordain women and take public stands on other social issues including access to birth control, abortion, and recognition of same-sex marriages, that initial enthusiasm for ecumenical dialogue, although it did not go away, clearly waned.  There was also a growing sense among a number of theologians and bishops that we should re-center our focus on Catholic identity in the face of a quickly changing world, to embrace a more counter-cultural approach to identity, and that the more fruitful ecumenical partners would be those who share our opposition to the three moral issues mentioned above, even if they do not embrace the Catholic Church’s full range of social teaching.  Moreover, the continuing, large and ancient divide between Catholic and Orthodox Churches also needs to be kept in mind in any ecumenical endeavor, as well as the new reality that has risen in the last 120 years through the growth of Pentecostal faith communities, especially in Latin America and Africa. These “Spirit-led” communities challenge existing Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant models of Church.  Where and how the Catholic Church directs its ecumenical energies, if at all, will greatly determine who we are as a Church in one hundred years. Will we build on the openings that Vatican II created, or will we let them wither, out of fear of losing what we think is our Catholic identity?

In this regard, the charismatic renewal, which began shortly after the close of the Second Vatican Council, might be both a helpful as well as a cautionary tale.  Arising in a completely unforeseen way, one of the most promising post-Vatican II ecumenical movements was the growth of charismatic renewal within the Catholic Church and other mainline denominations.  Believing in and experiencing a manifestation of gifts of the Spirit mentioned in the New Testament including speaking in tongues and prophetic utterances, those involved in the charismatic renewal gathered in prayer meetings which often crossed all denominational lines, while at the same time encouraging its members to be actively involved in their own particular denomination.  Charismatic communities were formed, led by non-ordained lay leaders, which encouraged its members to believe in and trust in the charisms of the Holy Spirit they received, especially the charism of evangelization, focused on the essentials of Christian faith.  In the Catholic Church, for a number of priests and bishops, most prominently Cardinal Suenens of Belgium, one of the key bishops who help to guide the work of the Second Vatican Council, the charismatic renewal seemed to be a visible extension of what the Council Fathers were pointing toward: respecting the existing reality of the Church and its many divisions but not letting those historical divisions define what it is possible to do even now; appreciating the active manifestation of the Holy Spirit in charisms that are not limited to the ordained but available to all the faithful; a recognition that there is a core gospel message that the world needs to hear and can be witnessed to by all Christians; and, most importantly, lives by the thousands that were visibly changed through conversion of hearts and minds, who now had a joyful enthusiasm for living and sharing the Christian (and Catholic) faith.

However, the charismatic renewal is also a cautionary tale.  In many groups where it took hold, it developed fairly quickly more fixed structures, many of which became quite rigid. Lay headship became less about discerning who has the gifts to lead and more based on gender or inter-group orthodoxy.  Evangelization was not simply about sharing the good news with everyone but more targeted to specific groups, especially young men.  Rules and regulations that were not intrinsic to living the Christian life were imposed on people, if they wanted to be full members of those communities.  The very strength of this movement—a fluidity that allowed for new ecumenical experiences of prayer, community, evangelization, and service to be done by all who came together—was at best obscured and in some cases lost.  In a number of instances, charismatic groups became so narrowly focused that they began to resemble a quasi-religious community, designed to support the witness of a few but more closed off to the rest of the world.  In such instances, instead of being ecumenical leaven advancing Christian unity, it too easily was experienced as just another division within the Church.

Does that experience of promise and caution, though, still point a way forward? Not specifically or necessarily only through charismatic gatherings and communities (which have seen a decline over the years in North America and Europe but remain more robust in South America and Africa), but in its methodology, learning from what was good and not so good.  Less focus on full Eucharistic sharing; more focus on shared prayer? Less energy on achieving overall and perfect theological agreement, though dialogue needs to continue; more energy on basic evangelization, centered on shared unity in Christ?  Less concern about structural unity; more concern about specific issues which can elicit common action together? Less the goal of creating self-sustaining groups that narrow their focus and outreach; more the goal of drawing together people across many backgrounds and beliefs?  Given the amazing gift of ecumenical openness unleashed at Vatican II, it would be a sin to close that door.  Might we need to let go of trying to regulate or control how ecumenical progress will happen and let the Spirit of God surprise us again and again, as happened at least in the initial stages of the charismatic renewal? 

When Christians come together, wherever possible, in prayer and common action for the good of the world, the Spirit of God can surprise us.  Is not this what Pope Francis was encouraging in imaging the current world and Church situation as a “field hospital”?  In the midst of battle, those who are the healers respond with the gifts and abilities they have toward all who are in need of healing. And in “triaging” the most important cases, one spends energy not on completely detailed care but focuses on the basics that will allow someone to survive and heal more fully later.  Thus, providing basic evangelization is not the enemy of eventual fuller catechesis.  Nor does one in such field hospitals distinguish friend from foe (Catholic from other Christian?) or reject the authentic help of someone, even if they are different from us or do things differently than us.  (“The one who is not against us is for us,” Mark 9:40).

Even if, from a Catholic perspective, there cannot be full Christian unity until there is an ability to come together in a Eucharist that has apostolic roots and blessing, and that seems a long way off, the Second Vatican Council opened a door to a future where the hope for such unity is possible.  Vatican II did this especially by reaching back and re-situating the Church’s understanding and approach to the Reformation.  Where, how, and with whom will the Catholic Church direct its ecumenical energies in order to continue to build on that hope?  That will go a long way toward determining what the Church will look like in the next one hundred years.