More Catholic Than the Pope? The Recent History and Future of American Catholic Moral Theology

While the fractured state of Catholic moral theology in the United States generally finds scholars pursuing their own specific areas of concerns while conversing with those of similar interests, moments occur for self-reflection on the state of the current field. We can see this in an extensive 2023 piece by Charles Camosy, involving diverse emphases and evaluations from a variety of American Catholic moral theologians from the post-Vatican II generation.

The death of Pope Francis invited another opportunity for reviewing the state of moral theology in the United States. Many people (theologians included), before the election of Leo XIV, were thinking about what kind of pope we want or need in the Church today. But the real question we ought to pose is this: What kind of theologians, what kind of moral theologians, and for most of us, what kind of lay faithful, do we want to be in relation to any pope?

The last few papacies have revealed much about the backgrounds, personalities, interests, and emphases of the men who held the office. But these papacies have also revealed much about the backgrounds, personalities, interests, and emphases of American theologians, with a constant uneasiness in regard to the institutional aspect of the Church represented by the pope.

As someone who has done historical work in the 1950s-70s period of American Catholicism, I want to observe that history shows us how difficult it is for anyone, scholar or otherwise, to “read the signs of the times.” Even should a theologian have a firm grasp on cultural currents, coupled with comprehensive theological knowledge, applying theology to the times in a prophetic or predictive manner is fraught with challenges. As I have noted elsewhere, moral theologians who lived through the 50s-70s have an irreplaceable and incredible experiential insight, but this is a strength that comes with its own limited perspective. When writing about contingent historical realities rather than logic or metaphysics, such perspectives are unavoidable and require openness to both other views and new evidence. However, it is too easy for the conclusions of such authors to serve as the motivation and starting point for their historical narratives, and this shapes the way the story is told.

Likewise, while the introspection of current Catholic theologians in the United States is a worthwhile and necessary task, it cannot help but be limited. While we may know the present moment, even that is limited by our personal perspective, and thus our “signs of the times” may actually not be very helpful at all. My approach here is instead to look back at a fairly recent historical period—an episode of Catholic moral theology—that reveals much about how moral theology today became what it was in the United States. Perhaps reflection on this episode can also guide us to think about the future of moral theology in the United States, regardless of who holds the office of pope.

While criticisms of the pope are certainly not new, the advent of online media, including social media, has ramped up the volume of disparagement when it comes to evaluating the pope. When considering the “long-term” history of the papacy, we can fairly say that our last few popes, and even the last century’s popes, were among the better men to hold the office. And yet, in various Catholic media and social media, we have heard the gamut of criticisms for John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis.

Most clickbait headlines and trite summaries we find blasted online, of course, are not those of academics but popular media. Yet we scholars make similar claims, but to a smaller readership and in a more erudite manner, backed with our favorite footnotes from the tradition (and elsewhere) to show that we are right. “Even sinners love those who love them” (Luke 6:32). We are always glad to cite a papal document when we see support for our own established emphases and positions. However, we also have little hesitation when it comes to justifying our positions contrary to the words of the pope. He is only human, after all, and limited in his scope of theological understanding, as well as unversed in the American context. An encyclical seems to be just one source among many. Thus, the spirit of criticism often prevails; indeed, for some, it seems to be the hermeneutical key to scholarly engagement with the papacy.

As an opening, this may seem overly harsh, especially since we younger theologians are inheritors of the theological tradition. Our beloved professors had reasons for what they emphasized in our training; such reasons were rooted both in academic interests and in their own experiences that brought about certain convictions regarding this critical spirit. Many were likewise influenced greatly by the experiences of their own beloved professors. As we now consider the future direction of the field in the context of awaiting our next pope, however, it is beneficial to turn to this historical episode with some degree of detachment from others’ experience and to evaluate the benefit of the spirit of criticism for moral theology today.

Problems Now, But Problems Then Too

“I wish I could make you go back and live in this time period,” said one professor to me after my dissertation defense, “You would absolutely hate it.”

Thus, before diving into the world of moral theology in the 1950s-70s, I want to acknowledge that the moral theology of this time was not some “golden age,” worthy of idealization or simple imitation. Even the most influential characters of time, such as Jesuit professors John Ford and Gerald Kelly, recognized there were real problems to be addressed. They made this clear at the outset of Chapter 4 in their 1958 book Contemporary Moral Theology, Vol. 1:

A feeling of uneasiness about moral theology has been in the air for some years. It is a feeling which cannot be brushed aside as mere murmuring by malcontents. It is shared by thoughtful critics who obviously have at heart only the good of souls and the ideals of our Lord. The feeling that something is wrong strikes anyone who reflects on the attitudes often displayed by priests and seminarians.[1]

At this time, moral theology found its home in the seminary, with the training of future priests by current priests using manuals, which were the root of a moral system developed for training confessors. Ford and Kelly summarized criticisms: charity does not vivify moral teaching; virtue was passed over quickly in favor of distinction of sins; scriptural and patristic sources are neglected; moral and dogmatic are divorced; individualistic leanings are indulged while social obligations are under-emphasized; psychoanalytical findings are not integrated; abstract terms of universal absolutes represent an impractical language and way of thinking; Christ is hardly mentioned; the emphasis is casuistry, legalism, and sinful deviation. In short, manualism—the use of manuals written for those hearing confessions—clearly had its limits, leading the authors to state: “We believe that moralists ought to welcome the modern criticisms of, and new approaches to, moral theology and frankly admit that there is need of change.”[2]

Throughout their book, Ford and Kelly spent time considering the insights and critiques of various authors, considering what they were adding to moral theology, as well as problematic tendencies that must not be easily accepted. The overarching framework for evaluating the “new approaches” was set forth in the first paragraph of the book:

Ethics is the science of morality based on reason; it considers man in the natural order, possessed of a natural destiny . . . Moral theology studies man in the supernatural order, possessed of a supernatural destiny; it is a science based not only on reason . . . but especially on revelation and on the teaching of the Church. Reason is the supreme argument in ethics; authority is the sovereign guide of the theologian.[3]

At the time they wrote this, this statement, the book, and the authors were decidedly uncontroversial. Yet by the time they published their second volume on marriage questions in 1963, they were described as “years behind the [theological] revolution now in progress” in a Commonweal review by the young layman Daniel Callahan.[4]

Dissolution of Catholic Subculture and Neo-Scholasticism

The easiest route of explanation for this change often hinges on the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965). However, we gain a richer perspective when we see this notable ecclesiastical event in relation to numerous significant changes in the United States. A cursory summary will have to suffice for the purposes of this article, but more detail can be found in Chapters 2 and 3 of my Sin in the Sixties: Catholics and Confession, 1955-1975.

First, in much of the United States, tight-knit, mainly urban Catholic communities of European immigrants transitioned to a more Americanized, suburban version of Catholicism. Catholic immigrants’ hard work in manual labor professions allowed later generations to achieve college educations and professional careers, facilitating their upward mobility. William Portier notes that this dissolution of Catholic subculture was the context in which Vatican II and its implementations were received. This context also explains American Catholics’ suddenly more eager reception of larger mainstream American currents, such as a newfound acceptance of modern psychology and counseling, as well as the use of artificial birth control.

An analogous movement occurred with the field of Catholic moral theology in the United States: scholars left the neo-Scholastic ghetto of seminary moral theology rooted in a manualist system developed around the sacrament of penance. The purpose of manualism had been to form priests in hearing confessions; this expression of neo-Scholasticism focused on the legal aspect of morality, which Servais Pinckaers notes was inherited from Ockham rather than Thomas.[5] Larger moral considerations were extrapolated from this core system of manualism. Although there was diversity in identifying sin and occasions of sin, as well as casuistry in applying the laws of the Church to situations, there was also a uniformity of method in the manualist education.

However, just as Catholics left the ghetto for mainstream suburban life, so moral theology transitioned from this seminary locus to the university. As such, it was no longer the focus of an independent setting, but rather one field among many. Manualism seemed sadly narrow and outdated in such an environment; moral theology needed to be more personal, practical, and pastoral, while also addressing social issues, such as racism, rather than personal sin alone. This new positioning at the university served, moreover, as an excellent base for the trending concept of conscience.

Conscience and the Contagion of Liberty

Peter Cajka’s excellent historical book entitled Follow Your Conscience: The Catholic Church and the Spirit of the Sixties describes the rise of the Thomistic notion of conscience in the 1960s with regard to how it was popularized and employed. Cajka identifies the two main concerns where this concept was applied: the Vietnam War and dissenting from Humanae Vitae, Pope Paul VI’s 1968 “birth control encyclical.” As a pair, we might note a significant difference in these two uses of conscience.

Standing against the Vietnam War deployed the Catholic concept of conscience contrary to the demands of the American government. Serving in the American military during World War II represented an opportunity for Catholics to prove they were American—that they were contributing members to what had historically been a Protestant society. The fact that by Vietnam, some Catholics felt empowered to use conscience against their own government indicates just how comfortable they had become in their identity as American Catholics. Conscience was the Catholic concept, but criticism and protest was an American activity particularly popular at this time.

Cajka does not comment upon the striking difference between employing conscience against a government versus against the Church. However, we can see how this fits well with what Philip Gleason names “the contagion of liberty” when considering Catholic intellectuals captivated by the idea of freedom; the emphasis is on individual subjectivity in contrast to authoritarianism. The confrontational tone of civil rights and antiwar movements on college campuses translated to critiques of the Church as an institution, and were justified to some extent by the “spirit of Vatican II” being open to the world.[6]

Ultimately, the American assimilation of younger generations of Catholics immersed them in a climate of criticism and challenge to authorities, from which the Church was not immune.

Humanae Vitae in Historical Context

Thus, we see a notable difference in theological journals prior to and following the release of Humanae Vitae. While the commission was still working to reach a conclusion, theologians articulated various arguments for and against the use of artificial contraception while laity began publicly sharing their experiences. However, after the encyclical’s release, the theological debate shifted to evaluating the authority of the pope and questioning the authoritative nature of documents from the pope contra other sources of authority inside and outside the tradition. The prolific and influential Redemptorist Bernard Häring, who served on the Vatican birth control commission, was in the majority group in favor of contraception. Häring had initially planned to keep silent, but when he received a leaked copy of Humanae Vitae prior to its release, Häring decided to pen a public statement that appeared on the front page of the New York Times:

Whoever can be convinced that the absolute forbidding of artificial means of birth control as stated by Humanae vitae is the correct interpretation of divine law must earnestly endeavor to live according to this conviction. Whoever, however, after serious reflection and prayer is convinced that in his or her case such a prohibition could not be the will of God should in inner peace follow his/her conscience and not thereby feel her/himself to be a second-class Catholic.[7]

Häring did not mention sin, objective morality, or obedience to the Church. He rather indicated that conscience could determine that the will of God was not identical with the pope’s encyclical.

A significant myth of moral theology is the claim that American Catholics at this time matured and learned to think for themselves with true moral autonomy rather than blindly following the authority of the Church. We can see how such a claim would be foundational for scholars who want the historical narrative to be one of ascendancy, rather than viewed as a decline into fragmentation and irrelevance.

I do not want to dismiss the agency of those who dissented from the birth control prohibition found in Humanae Vitae any more than I want to dismiss the agency of those who adhered out of obedience to the Church’s teachings prior to 1968. However, I do want to consider the language of this myth of moral maturity on two fronts: the dissolution of Catholic subculture and the continued influence of priests. First, the dissent is couched in terms of individual reasoning, but the Catholic acceptance of birth control roughly matched that of the American public. While American Catholics, no doubt, had additional considerations in light of their Catholicism, their conclusions can be narrated not as a mark of maturity simply as a mark of being American.

Second, seeing this decision as a mature and independent one “against the institutional Church,” does not adequately reflect how much the views of laity matched the views of their priests. The experience of priests in the confessional showed them the seemingly unfair suffering faced by married people as they tried to be good Catholics observing the birth control prohibition, and this often made them question the Church’s stance, whether privately or publicly. Thus, rather than saying the laity finally “thought on their own, rather than blindly obeying the Church,” we could surmise that many continued to be guided by the views and advice of their priests, who represented the Church. The very public dissent of many priests, coupled with the pro-contraceptive counseling some had received in the confessional, indicated to the laity that they could be Catholics in good standing while using birth control.[8]

Honestly, given the historical context of dissolution of the subculture, dissolution of neo-Scholasticism, the contagion of liberty, and other socioeconomic and cultural circumstances (such as the rise of bottle feeding and the formula industry), what is more remarkable is that any American Catholics accepted the encyclical. Regardless, we can see how this foundational myth that praises moral autonomy contra Church authority fundamentally abrogates the original definition for moral theology that we found in Ford and Kelly. We can grant that there were difficult circumstances that made the prohibition of birth control exceedingly troublesome for many American Catholics, yet,the guidance of authority had been the key for distinguishing Catholic moral theology from ethics. The logical trajectory of this myth, however, extended a spirit of criticism and skepticism more generally to the pope and Church teachings.

Meanwhile, for those scholars who saw Catholics as “growing up” and “thinking for themselves,” this trajectory was not undesirable. It gained them a seat at the table of Christian ethicists, where they could be part of the American intellectual scene rather than confined to the seminary or small Catholic colleges. They gained greater authority by not being constrained by the Church; this autonomy allowed them to speak to a larger audience and thus to have greater influence. In part, the transformation of moralists to ethicists represented the further ascendancy of Catholicism in the United States. Catholic scholars were no longer consigned to the Catholic ghettos of scholarship; they could be (and wanted to be) ethicists rather than moral theologians.

The so-called “freedom” of “mature Catholicism” could appear to have a heroic element in some cases. Häring’s willingness to be public about his stance, and the controversy that Charles Curran faced at Catholic University of America, may seem at first glance to pit a righteous and courageous David against the monolithic institutional Goliath of the Church. Indeed, if we review this charitably, we can hope that such figures genuinely had good intentions, and only took their stance against the Church, believing, after prayer and discernment, that the Church was wrong. Why else would they put themselves in such a precarious situation?

This is not unlike Martin Luther, who at the Diet of Worms in 1521 stood fast with the words: “Here I stand, I can do no other.” The personal certainty of one’s conviction, however, is no guarantee of the veracity of the position or optimal use of strategies of opposition, and may instead cause unintended and undesirable fracturing. Without Ford and Kelly’s understanding of “authority as the sovereign guide of the theologian,” it is not surprising that the work of many Catholic ethicists today reaches the same conclusions as Protestant or even secular ethics. Of course, Catholic ethicists may see an advantage in the many resources of the tradition from which they can draw, but because they use these sources without regard to their relative authority within the tradition, their advantage is just as relative.

What’s Catholic About Catholic Moral Theology?

Returning to the present moment, what can we learn from this particular episode in the history of Catholic moral theology? What kind of theologians do we want to be in relation to the authority of the Church? What kind of moral theologians and lay faithful shall we be in our disposition toward the pope? How can we best respond if we, like many moral theologians in 1968, find our views at odds with those of the pope? Here I have a few suggestions that may be beneficial for moving forward.

First, the overall disposition that is becoming of a Catholic theologian errs on the side of loyalty, generosity, and charity to the pope. In other words, the words of Ford and Kelly are still relevant here. Moral theology is a science that depends on the revelation and teaching of the Church; authority is the sovereign guide. While we can see that certain theologians stood contrary to Paul VI with the encyclical Humanae Vitae, we have more recently seen various theologians standing contrary to Pope Francis, criticizing his emphases, policies, and decisions in such a way that bears striking resemblance to those who criticized Paul VI or questioned the binding nature of papal authority in 1968. Those of the 60s may have sought to be more “catholic” or universal than Paul VI; with this last papacy, some believed they were more “Catholic” than Francis. These “more Catholic than the pope” Catholics may consider themselves “traditional” or “conservative,” but they are the true heirs of the 1960s critical spirit, rather than the heirs of Ford and Kelly’s view.

Recognizing authority as sovereign guide does not mean there is no room for critique of papal documents or assessment and evaluations of a pope’s choices. Indeed, such work can be helpful guidance at times, but this brings us to the second point, namely, that it is the responsibility of the theologian to know the authority of various documents from the Church. Fortunately for us all, Elizabeth Huddleston has compiled a handy guide for this. Perhaps we should all bookmark it on our browsers for review prior to writing or publishing. As theologians, we have a lot of freedom in our work; we are not bound simply to the exegesis of papal documents. But we are also accountable for knowing and ranking the sources (ecclesial and secular) that we use in our evaluations.

A third point follows from the first two, which is that we need a strong ecclesiological understanding as we seek to contribute to the Church. We lay faithful and lay theologians are the Church; we belong to the mystical body of Christ. At times one can overhear the laity, including theologians, opining about “what the Church should be doing” or “what the pope is neglecting.” We are the Church! The pope’s responsibilities and corresponding statements reflect a global accountability and simply cannot be comprehensive. We should bring to light issues in our context that matter for the Church, even if the pope has not heard of them or does not have time to emphasize them. We should not live in ivory towers refreshing our vatican.va browser as we await a new statement from the pope.

And yet, as a fourth point, if our ecclesiology means we believe we are part of the Church, which is not merely a natural institution but the mystical body of Christ, then we should also take time to consider the difference between ethics that concerns the human being in the natural order with a natural destiny versus the idea of moral theology that concerns the human being in a supernatural order possessed of a supernatural destiny. As noted above, many from the Catholic tradition have accepted the title ethicist, and this belies an incomplete ecclesiology. For those of us who prefer the designation of Catholic moral theologian, we should begin our theological work with the supernatural in mind and knowing that our arguments and their conclusions should not pit us against official Church teachings or forget the supernatural destiny.

The implications of such a stance will bring us to a fifth point, namely, moral theology must be connected to the sacraments in some sense. The reason the field grew up around the sacrament of confession was precisely because this sacrament concerns the supernatural destiny of the human being in the need for absolution from sin and grace to live a good and holy life. As stated in the beginning, the manualist period in seminaries was not a golden age, and there is no way to go back to it even if this was desirable. However, all the sacraments concern the supernatural aspect of the human being. If this is also the main concern of moral theology, then we cannot ignore the grace given by the sacraments but rather must see the sacramental life as inseparable from the moral life.

Finally, we should not see the above as constraints on our freedom as theologians, but rather as facilitators of our freedom. Anyone can come to ethical conclusions that roughly match the views of American society, but it takes a faithful Catholic with Catholic views to come to conclusions that truly can contribute to and enrich our country in a unique way. Recognizing this shows humility rather than arrogance; we are not seeking fame for ourselves as individuals, but rather sharing the insights and convictions of our tradition with those for whom they may not be easily accessible.

Although it may be hard to read the signs of the times accurately or to predict the actions of a new pope, we can take this moment of transition for self-reflection. What kind of moral theologians and lay faithful do we want to be in relation to the pope? And what trajectory for the field of moral theology follows upon the answer to this question?