HOMILETIC & PASTORAL REVIEW: TOWARDS AN ADULT THEOLOGY
by William G. Most, July 1971
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Some theologians, by neglecting the true method of theology and by going
against the magisterium, show clear signs of adolescence.
TOWARDS AN ADULT THEOLOGY
By William G. Most
"When I was a child, I used to talk like a child, think like a
child.... When I became a man I put childish ways aside."
When we were children, we accepted, as St. Paul says, what older people
said, without asking for reasons to support their statements. That of
course is inescapable in a child: he could not do better at this age. No
more could be expected of a child. But when we reached that anchorless
period of adolescence, we tended to question everything--things that needed
questioning, things that were secure. We were trying to work out a reasoned
basis for our convictions, religious and other. Out in the middle of that
sea, when one has lost these supports of childhood, and has not yet
finished building the solid adult foundation for convictions, he could not
be other than uncomfortable.
Theology today reminds one of this adolescent storm. Father Andrew Greeley
saw it far earlier than most persons. As far back as 1966 he wrote an
article, "Adolescent American Catholicism" ("Sign," Nov. 1966, p. 16):
"Intellectual fads and fashions combine with the catchwords to create an
unstable ideology that is not only a substitute for scholarship and for
thought, but actually a pretext for rejecting precise scholarship and
serious intellectual investigations."
His opinion was seconded by some distinguished Protestant commentators.
Martin Marty (Davenport Messenger, June 27, 1968, p. 7) said:" . . . some
Catholic renewal has not been renewal of the Church, but the manic babble
on the part of people with personal problems." Albert Outler (NCR, Nov. 15,
1967, p. 9) added:" . . . the crisis among Roman Catholic theologians has
reached a major level of befuddlement."
Now, four years later, Greeley speaks even more flatly of the adolescent
turmoil ("NCR Spring Book Report," April 17, 1970, p. 1): "The anti-
intellectual romanticists in the larger American society call into question
serious scholarly or intellectual work (witness Gregory Baum's recent
statement that every man could be his own theologian)."
REMARKABLE VIEWS OF THEOLOGIANS
Greeley is right, sadly right. In spite of Teilhard de Chardin's optimism
that our race will continue a steady ever upward intellectual march to an
Omega point, we find "theologians" putting forward the most remarkable
views, with little or no attempt at rational support, and readers by the
thousands willing to accept the new pontifical authority with solemn awe in
the name of open windows. For example, we are told that there is no great
Person outside us called God, that the Eucharist "celebrated" at a kitchen
table by a negro woman is just as valid as that consecrated by the Pope,
that all St. Paul meant to say by asserting our faith is vain if Christ is
not risen is that the influence of Christ lives on while His physical body
rots, that homosexuality is quite OK for a man who cannot somehow get his
kicks from heterosexual relations, that Christ became like us even in
having an identity crisis--except that His lasted much longer than what
most adolescents have: He didn't know who He was until He was baptized, was
crucified, or rose (depending on which view one likes)--and so on "sine
fine" and "ad nauseam."
This article makes bold to suggest that theology today should grow up,
should begin to act in an adult fashion, i.e., be able to give solid
reasons for what it holds.
Now theology, like other fields of knowledge, needs an intellectual method
adapted to its own situation. The importance of method has been most
glaringly shown in the natural sciences For centuries, scientists sat back
in their armchairs, dreamed up a (seemingly) plausible explanation of how
lightning worked, etc., never bothered to check out their theories with
experiments, merely issued unsupported pontifical decrees. In that period
of science, doctors could attempt to cure Francis of Assisi's blindness by
drawing a red hot iron over his forehead. But came the revolution: the
natural sciences turned to what we now know is real scientific method, and
Voila! Our own era of chain explosion progress in science is the result.
Theologians might learn a thing from the scientists--not that theology
should use the philosophical method (which would send it back to the
armchair). But theology ought to rediscover its own proper method.
This article wishes to propose, as a means of growing up intellectually,
that we adopt the theological method actually given by Vatican II. And so
that you. the reader, will not fear we are about to take off on another
open window flight supported only by some invisible spirit of Vatican II--
which will always obligingly second whatever the writer wishes to hold--we
are going to simply look at some actual statements of the Council.
Of course, it is obvious even before we look at the Council that one should
study the sources of revelation. He should do it with the best modern
techniques, including the approach to Scripture through literary genres
(interesting to note it was not Vatican II but Pius XII who first, in spite
of caricatures of him, not only permitted but required Catholic exegetes to
use that means) and he should also make use of redaction criticism and form
criticism (as first suggested to Catholics by the Pontifical Biblical
Commission).
We might note too in passing that although, theoretically, Catholics
recognize tradition as part of the means of transmitting revelation while
Protestants do not, yet in practice, many Catholic theologians need the
advice of Martin Marty (Davenport "Messenger," June 27, 1968, p. 7): "The
public need have no reason for confidence in a theology that listens not at
all to the thousands of years and only to the moment, that is as jumpy as a
magnetic needle but lacking an axis.... I look for a more aristocratic--and
thus more humble--theology in the future, one which moves more by norms
gained from Christian listening to a tradition than from merely being
outrageous."
THE CATHOLIC METHOD IN THEOLOGY
But when one has made this study of the sources, there comes the moment of
truth: a decision must be made on what the sources mean. The critical
question is this: What is the decisive criterion for being sure what they
really mean? Herein lies the most basic difference in the Protestant and
the Catholic method in theology. For the Protestant criterion has been and
still is simply this: What do I think, i.e., personal judgment. There is no
higher court for the Protestant approach. For the Catholic however who
really is Catholic, who really does follow Vatican II, the deciding factor
is found in the Constitution on Divine Revelation (10): "The task of
authentically interpreting the word of God, whether written or handed on,
has been entrusted exclusively to the living teaching office of the Church,
whose authority is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ."
CHRIST WILL BE WITH HIS CHURCH
Such judgments of the teaching office are of course binding when made in
the infallible form (On the Church 25); ". . . when either the Roman
Pontiff or the body of bishops together with him defines a judgment they
pronounce it in accord with revelation itself. All are obliged to maintain
and be ruled by this revelation...." Further: even though the Council
taught and stressed collegiality, yet in the very same section of the same
document it also added that a Pope can even define without consulting the
Bishops:" . . . they [his definitions] need no approval of others, nor do
they allow an appeal to any other judgment."
Is it rational, reasonable to accept such teaching, particularly if the
Pope happens to speak without much consultation of the Bishops and the
laity? The Council says flatly: Yes. The reason is not that we are asked to
think this Pope, or any other Pope, is an intellectually brilliant man, a
specially holy or enlightened man, or anything of the sort (and similarly
for the body of Bishops)--it is simply that he
(with or without the body of Bishops) is on the receiving end of the
promises of Christ who said He would be with His Church until the end, that
the powers of the lower world would not prevail, that "He who hears you
hears me." If a man believes Christ made such promises and that He had the
ability to fulfill them, then and then only is it rational to believe what
a Pope (with or without the bishops) teaches.
THEOLOGY DIFFERS FROM OTHER SCIENCES
This situation makes theology radically different from all other fields of
knowledge. In other fields, the decisive criterion is the judgment of each
man. He should of course weigh the evidence, he should consider the views
of the most competent men in the field. But when all the chips are down,
there is nothing that could authoritatively lay claim to his assent, or
could overrule his personal opinion. In other fields there is no special
reason for trying to preserve continuity with what the past workers in the
field have held: one may freely contradict anything or everything they have
said or thought, if he has evidence. But in theology the decisive thing is
precisely the judgment of the teaching Church, not personal judgment. It is
rational to accept that because of the promises of Christ. And to preserve
continuity with the beginning is vital--we must at all costs adhere to what
Christ brought us. As we shall see, this does not preclude progress. It
merely means we must not contradict what the Church, under protection of
His promises, has once taught.
A careful study of the doctrinal changes made by Vatican II shows that not
once did the Council contradict any past teaching: its changes consisted in
pushing on to new truths or insights. This position of Vatican II on the
role of the teaching authority does not stifle research--such a claim is
most commonly made by persons who have done nothing to advance the
frontiers themselves. Really, it means that there are two areas to be
marked out: one in which the Church has spoken, the other in which it has
not yet spoken. The second area is immense, leaves room for more research
than the concerted effort of all living theologians could finish in many
lifetimes.
But Vatican II pushes things still farther: it insists that Catholics
should believe its own teachings, even though it made no statement in the
infallible form at all. It even requires them to believe teachings issued
by a Pope alone, in the non-infallible mode (On the Church 25):" . . .
religious submission of will and of mind must be shown in a special way to
the authentic teaching authority of the Roman Pontiff, even when he is not
speaking ex cathedra. That is, it must be shown in such a way that . . .
the judgments made by him are sincerely adhered to . . ." The reason is
still basically the same: we are not asked to suppose this Pope is
intellectually brilliant, singularly holy etc.--we are asked only to say he
is on the receiving end of the promises of Christ in this respect too.
Some will exclaim at this juncture: Isn't it too much to ask me to accept
something that is non-infallible, admittedly non-infallible?
The worry sounds obviously valid, until we recall how life in general is
lived. For how many things we believe do have an infallible assurance?
Students commonly believe teachers, who are never infallible; we sit down
often to a meal which includes food taken from a can. If someone were to
add: Did we send it to the lab to have a check made for Botulism (mortality
rate 65 %) we would think him odd. Yet we literally stake our lives on the
noninfallible belief that the food is not poisoned. (And of course even a
lab check would not be infallible either). In eating the food we are being
reasonable: there is a chance of death all right. But it is a far out
chance, so far out that the normal rational man not only may but should
ignore it.
Similarly a non-infallible teaching could be wrong. The only case in
history that really may possibly stand up under close scrutiny is the
Galileo case--and even there the verdict was not by a Pope, but by a
separate agency, and it was not that Galileo's teaching was "false" but
that it was "suspect of heresy"--guarded language. Further, Galileo really
had not given any satisfactory proof: even the scientists of his day were
much opposed to him. So, even granting the most unfavorable view of the
Galileo decision, statistically, the chances of error in the noninfallible
Magisterium remain much farther out than for our hypothetical can of
tomatoes.
THE LIMITS OF DISSENT
Much is made of the fact that even old-line, preconciliar theology manuals
used to mention a special case: a theologian has done much research on a
question. He finds reasons he believes are unknown to Rome that seem to him
to invalidate a non-infallible teaching. What should he do? All the old
manuals did admit he was free to suspend his intellectual assent. After
that, some authors said he ought to report his reasons privately to Rome,
be prepared to accept the decision. Others proposed somewhat varying
courses. But no one, absolutely no one, gave him the right to take to the
press, to maintain his dissent permanently. The attitude of the Church was
crystallized in Canon 2317: "Those who persist in teaching or defending,
publicly or privately, a doctrine condemned by the Holy See or a General
Council, but not as formally heretical i.e., not defined] are to be
excluded from the ministry of preaching the word of God or hearing
Confessions, and from any teaching post whatsoever, in addition to other
penalties. . ."
That is quite a different picture from the wholesale denial or non-
acceptance of the "Humanae Vitae" decision. Not even a specialist today
could dare to claim he has any reason not known to Rome after five and a
half years of delay. And the dissenters are, as Canon 2317 says,
"persisting" in their teaching, are doing it publicly, have no intention at
all of changing their view. Magisterium and academic freedom
At least, intellectual honesty demands they stop claiming they are
following the principles of Vatican II in dissenting. In fact, Vatican II
did not even mention the exception proposed by the old manuals. Of course,
we may reasonably assume the Council did not mean to exclude it. But we
could hardly say it was willing to go beyond that older concession.
What of academic freedom? Is it not essential for the full pursuit of
truth? The 1968 statement of the AAUP (Winter 1968 "Bulletin," p. 448)
says: "A college or university is a marketplace of ideas, and it cannot
fulfill its purposes of transmitting, evaluating, and extending knowledge
if it requires conformity with any orthodoxy of content and method." The
Land O'Lakes Declaration (July 21-23, 1967) of the International Federation
of Catholic Universities seems to concur with the AAUP:" . . . the Catholic
university must have a true autonomy and academic freedom in the face of
authority of whatever kind, lay or clerical, external to the academic
community itself." The same idea was stated still more vigorously by Robert
E. Hunt, before his departure as a member of the Theology Faculty of CUA
("Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society," 1968, p. 266): "The
Sacred Magisterium as such and per se is simply incompetent in theology as
such and per se."
Before any other comment, one can note that these three statements hardly
fit with the flat demands of Vatican II cited above, especially the
statement that "The task of authentically interpreting the word of God . .
has been entrusted exclusively [italics added] to the living teaching
office of the Church . . ." (On Divine Revelation 10). If the Magisterium
is exclusively competent, it cannot at the same time be "simply
incompetent." Nor can a University honestly call itself Catholic if it
"must have a true autonomy . . . in the face of authority of whatever
kind," even that of the teaching office of the Church.
Does Vatican II then require that one who follows it must give up academic
freedom, give up the free quest for truth? By no means, and for two
reasons.
IMPORTANCE OF THE PROPER METHOD
First, every field of knowledge has its own proper method. That method is
not determined arbitrarily by a vote of professors or other specialists, it
flows from the nature of the field. A man who does not use the method of
his field is unlikely to find truth easily in it. Again, the natural
science instance already mentioned is relevant: What would a science
department say of a scientist who wanted to follow the armchair method of
the Middle Ages? Could he claim academic freedom, demand to hold his
position? He would be laughed out of court. He is a quack. He is unlikely
to find much truth. "Academic freedom presupposes a man is a legitimate
practitioner, that he uses the real method of his field to find truth. If
he does not, he cannot claim the protection of academic freedom for his
folly. For it is designed to protect the search for truth, not to protect
those who are quacks." Now as we noticed above, there is a method proper to
Catholic theology, quite different from Protestant theological method. "In
it, the prime means of finding the truth, of being sure of the truth is
precisely the judgment of the Magisterium of the Church." He who insists on
throwing away the prime means of finding the truth in theology cannot
simultaneously say he is using all the best means of seeking that truth,
that he needs academic freedom to seek it. Academic freedom "presupposes" a
man works in the method needed for the field. If he does not, he deserves
no more hearing in a Catholic theology department than would the
"scientist" we imagined who would want to use armchair methods in science.
So academic freedom does not rule out the use of the Magisterium, does not
declare the Magisterium incompetent: rather, it "requires adherence to it
in theology."
PRESUPPOSITION OF THE AAUP
The AAUP statement contains a presupposition: that there is no divinely
provided means of finding an absolute truth. That presupposition is, of
course, true in all other fields--in all but the science of revelation,
theology. Were that presupposition valid in theology we should by all means
reject the Magisterium. One who does not accept the divine mission and the
promises of Christ has every right, in fact, has the duty, to reject
adherence to the Magisterium in theology.
Since then academic freedom "presupposes" right method, we are making "no
exception" to it at all when we insist on the adherence to the Magisterium
as "the" means of reaching final certitude in theology.
The second approach to the problem of academic freedom is more pragmatic.
It does not try to avoid admitting an exception to academic freedom.
Instead, it notices that all rights have their limitations. The right of
free speech does not allow me to slander my neighbor. The right of freedom
of religion does not allow polygamy even if one believes in it religiously,
as the Mormons formerly did. Nor does freedom of religion give a man the
right to practice the religion of a headhunter who thinks his gods demand
he take off other people's heads. Similarly, a Catholic institution, of
whatever level, has a right to exist as such. That is, if a group of people
put together their money and found and maintain an institution precisely to
promote Catholic faith, they have a right to get what they paid for. A
parallel case would be one in which a number of men would contribute their
money and time to found an institution to promote the audio-lingual method
of teaching languages, a controversial method. Suppose after a time, a
professor hired by them came and stated: "Gentlemen, I am sorry, I do not
believe in your method. I am not going to use it. In fact, I am going to
talk against it in my classes. You, however, must let me do it, you must
pay me to do it, pay me to work against the purpose for which you
established this institute. For I have academic freedom. If you do not, I
will ask the AAUP to blacklist you, to try to close you down."
That would, obviously, be contemptible behavior. It would not be
liberalism--it would be narrowness. It would presuppose only one kind of
institution had a right to exist, an institution committed to nothing at
all. For if it would try to be committed, it would still be obliged to pay
a professor who might wish to destroy it, pay for nullifying the very
reason for its existence.
Should we say that the statements and principles of Vatican 11 apply only
to the simple, to the lower levels of teaching in our schools, but that for
the professional theologian there should be no need to adhere to the
Magisterium?
PAUL VI ON THE MAGISTERIUM
First, Vatican II nowhere hinted that theologians were exempt from its
statements on this or other matters. If the task of determining the meaning
of revelation has been "entrusted exclusively" to the Magisterium, by what
title do professional theologians declare themselves exempt, call the
Magisterium "simply incompetent in theology as such and per se?" If the use
of the Magisterium is the prime means of reaching certitude, can a
professional dispense from using that prime means? If he does, he is not
acting as a professional, but as a quack. Paul VI left no doubt on the
point. In speaking, not to catechism teachers, but to the International
Congress on the Theology of the Second Vatican Council (Davenport
"Messenger" 11-10-66, p. 7), he told the professional theologians assembled
there:" . . . the immediate and universal norm of this unfailing truth can
be found solely in the authentic Magisterium of the Church. . . Therefore
you especially italics added] will more surely possess that truth the more
wholeheartedly you are joined with the Church's Magisterium. If in your
search for truth you wander away from this magisterium . . . it might even
expose you to the danger of deviating from the right path, choosing your
own judgment, not the thinking of the Church, as the criterion of truth.
This would be an arbitrary choice, 'hairesis,' the road to heresy."
VATICAN II FURTHERS DEVELOPMENT
To borrow from Winston: "What do you want?"--but the choice proposed is not
"good grammar or good taste"--it is whether or not to follow Vatican II. If
someone chooses not to follow the Council, at least intellectual honesty
should compel him to admit he is not following it, that he is instead
contradicting it.
One who does want to follow the Council ought first to see by a careful
reading of all sixteen documents precisely what changes in our teaching
were made by the council and then, in the second place, he should judge
other changes, those proposed by private theologians, according to the
principles of the Council. That course does not prevent him from making
advances. Rather, it greatly helps him by giving him sound method. It aids
his advance too, by dispensing him from the need of starting from scratch,
as it were, of trying to establish what has once-for-all been stabilized by
the teaching of the Church. Taking that for acquired territory, he can
avoid waste of time, can have more time and energy to push on to newer
frontiers of truth.--
