Fifty years ago this month,
the Roman Catholic Church embarked on a period of soul-searching that
reverberated far beyond St. Peter's Basilica in Rome.
Pope John XXIII
called Catholic bishops across the globe to the Second Vatican Council, opening the windows of a monarchical church to the modern world.
The first Catholic president, John F. Kennedy,
sat in the White House. Clergy infused the civil rights movement with
moral transcendence. These were heady days for religious progressives.
They
were also fleeting. Just two decades later, Jerry Falwell made the
religious right the public face of Christianity. Today, at a time when
debates over the role of faith in politics are as prickly as ever,
Catholic nuns in the United States are reawakening the spirit of Vatican
II and inspiring a new generation of disillusioned Christians as they
face harsh rebuke from an increasingly conservative hierarchy.
Vatican II met for three
years beginning in 1962 and stirred groundbreaking changes: building
ecumenical bridges, especially in Christian-Jewish relations; permitting
Mass to be celebrated in local languages instead of only in Latin; and
expansively defining the church as "the people of God."
The council was
guided by what John XXIII called aggiornamento, or "updating" — a
profound change given the church's previous rejection of modernity and
liberalism as heresies.
The American Jesuit priest and theologian
John Courtney Murray, who a decade earlier had faced Vatican censure for
his writings on conscience and religious freedom, became a leading
intellectual light of the council.
Nuns, encouraged by the council's
reformist instincts, emerged from convents to "live the Gospel" in
blighted communities. These women continue to serve in prisons,
hospitals and war-torn countries. Many took on leadership positions that
belie antiquated stereotypes.
In the years after the council,
however, the church retrenched. The next pope, Paul VI, ignored the
majority report of his own theological commission when in 1968 he
declared birth control to be an "intrinsic evil" even for married couples.
The charismatic Pope John Paul II
(1978-2005) cracked down on "liberation theology" movements in Latin
America led by priests and nuns standing with the poor in the face of
oppressive right-wing governments. He also offered stinging critiques of
unfettered capitalism and and made historic steps to improve
Christian-Jewish relations.
But his 27-year year papacy was largely
defined by a conservative sexual theology, a staunch defense of the
all-male priesthood and blindness to the clergy sexual abuse crisis that
engulfed the church.
Now Pope Benedict XVI's doctrine office has cracked down on an organization called the Leadership Conference of Women Religious,
which represents most U.S nuns.
A scathing report from the Vatican in
April blasted the group for "promoting radical feminist themes
incompatible with the Catholic faith."
It chided the nuns for largely
focusing on social justice at the expense of speaking out against
same-sex marriage and abortion. The Vatican appointed Seattle Archbishop
J. Peter Sartain to oversee the conference.
The Vatican's
tone-deaf scolding of self-sacrificing nuns is just the latest sign that
church leaders may be dragging Catholicism, known for social justice
and intellectual rigor, into the reactionary arms of fundamentalist
Christianity.
On the same day the Vatican sought to rein in American
nuns, it reached out to reconcile with the Society of St. Pius X, a
traditionalist group founded by the late French Archbishop Marcel
Lefebvre that broke with the church in the wake of Vatican II.
And
yet, puritanical Catholicism that fixates on policing sexual morality
and claims to be the victim of a godless secular culture is unlikely to
help the church flourish. Nearly 10% of U.S. adults are former
Catholics, which makes them the third-largest U.S. "denomination."
Even
some bishops are sounding the alarm. Cardinal Carlo Martini of Milan,
in a final interview before his death this summer, lamented that the
church is "200 years out of date" and so focused on lecturing about
sexuality that its leaders are in danger of being perceived as a
"caricature in the media."
U.S. Catholics bishops make wonderful
statements about the importance of unions, comprehensive immigration
reform and the need to protect social safety nets now threatened by
anti-government ideologues.
In letters to Congress, they have described a
budget proposal by Rep. Paul Ryan (R-Wis.), a Catholic now vying for the vice presidency, as failing "a basic moral test."
But compared to the church's frequent public denunciations of "pro-choice" Democrats
or its two-week Fortnight for Freedom campaign — launched with special
Masses across the country in response to the Obama administration's
contraception coverage requirements under healthcare reform — the bishops have put little institutional muscle behind challenging a GOP economic agenda that is anathema to Catholic social teaching.
Even
the U.S. bishops' respected anti-poverty agency has been pressured by
conservative Catholic activists to put ideology before care for the
poor.
A small nonprofit group in rural Colorado that helps Latino
immigrants with healthcare and other basic needs lost more than half its
funding from the Catholic Church because the group has an association
with a statewide coalition that also happens to support gay rights.
Meanwhile,
in a flashback to the McCarthy era, the Diocese of Arlington, Va., has
required Sunday school teachers to swear loyalty oaths.
In the
face of this embattled, defensive Catholicism, it's no wonder that many
Catholics have been cheering as a Nuns on the Bus tour rolled through
several states this summer and into the fall. The trip highlighted the
inspiring work sisters do in leading service agencies that feed the
hungry and care for the sick.
"Preach the Gospel always and when
necessary use words," St. Francis of Assisi instructed.
These nuns live
that admonition every day. By challenging members of Congress who voted
for Ryan's draconian budget (which slashes nutrition programs for
low-income women and infants), and by supporting the Affordable Care Act, the nuns also showed that being "pro-life" doesn't stop with defending life in the womb.
Five
decades removed from the aura of hope that animated Vatican II, the
Catholic Church stands at a crossroads.
Do the Vatican and U.S. bishops
really want a smaller, "purer" church, where the door is slammed in the
faces of nuns, theologians and progressive Catholics?
Catholicism has
few better ambassadors than the nuns on the bus.
Our church marginalizes
them at its own peril.
John Gehring is Catholic program director
at Faith in Public Life, an advocacy group in Washington, and a former
assistant director for media relations at the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
Faith in Public Life has provided media support for Nuns on the Bus tours in several states.