Beware the Vagueness of Vatican II

By Dr. Jeff Mirus ( bio - articles - email ) | Apr 22, 2013

Having spent considerable time and energy detailing the program of renewal outlined at the Second Vatican Council (OK, so what sort of renewal did Vatican II prescribe?), I am naturally a little taken aback by those who have responded essentialy as follows: “Whatever. The documents were so vague and wordy, that at a minimum the Council left the Church open to all the horrors that followed.” Of course, vagueness and wordiness are relative terms; for any given person, I suppose these charges are unanswerable. Still, they do not make any sense to me.

I do not find the documents vague at all. But then this depends upon expectations, doesn’t it? If I come to hear Our Lord condemn the Pharisees, then “whited sepulchers” will seem satisfyingly precise. But on the same expectation, I fear I am going to find the Sermon on the Mount very vague indeed, not to mention intolerably wordy for the purpose. In the same way, if I come to hear Our Lord define the Real Presence in the Eucharist, having just read the relevant decree of the Council of Trent, I am going to find chapter six of John’s gospel just a trifle vague, including its strange expression “before Abraham was, I am.” But knowing the doctrine of the Eucharist, there is no question which text I will find more inspiring—no question which is more likely to make me a better Catholic.

So too in the present case. Somewhere along the line, somebody claimed that ecumenical councils must always speak in definitions and condemnations. Presumably whenever a council does not use those forms, it will be considered vague, or wordy, or both. This, I fear, is a holdover from an era of living the faith prescriptively. A council that wants to inspire and renew will always be considered vague and wordy by those who want a list of definitions, condemnations and rules.

I’ve made the point before that condemnations actually tell us very little, because their great weakness is a lack of positive content. When the Church condemns something, she does a wonderful job of telling us what we must not believe, but a terrible job of getting us to enter more deeply into what we should believe. So while condemnations have an important place in the teaching office of the Church, and they certainly have a satisfying ring to them (provided, of course, it is some idea we disagree with that gets condemned), they are far too precisely restricted to form the basis of a positive program. They exclude one particular item from belief, and they otherwise leave us pretty much in the dark.

Definitions do a little better, because they fix in our mind a particular positive understanding. These are wonderful tools for clarifying doctrine. But as a general rule they do not inspire, nor are they designed to do so. In fact, inspiring language is completely out of place in a definition. And so definitions do not move people to greater zeal. They aid understanding but do little to encourage an interior penetration of the Christian message. They do not foster a deep commitment to acting like a Christian in every aspect of our lives, in every corner of our culture.

Think for a moment of the old Baltimore Catechism and its equivalent “penny catechisms” around the world. Today’s official Catholic Catechism, by comparison, is incredibly wordy, and in some respects less conveniently precise, that is, less “handy”. But that is because the official Catechism tries to provide a deeper understanding of the Faith, not merely points to memorize; it draws out its meaning from Scripture and the Fathers, and even explains it “around the edges” to some degree, precisely so that the reader might, in addition to learning the truth, find the reality at once rich and beautiful, mysterious and inspiring.

A Different Style for a Different Purpose

Now the Second Vatican Council set out to accomplish a pastoral objective. Occasionally it developed doctrine in a clear and precise way, but its primary purpose was threefold: First, to inculcate a more complete understanding of the reality of the Church; second, to enjoin and inspire a deeper participation by all her members in the Church’s essential mission; and third, to set forth in each topic area certain specific changes that ought to be made to facilitate this mission. Not every topic, and not every mandated change, is relevant to everyone.

It is important to recognize that by its very nature this pastoral task requires more words than definitions and condemnations do. Insofar as this task calls for inculcating a deeper understanding and a renewed approach to the Church, it may certainly seem “vague” to all those who come to the documents looking for what the Fathers of the Council had no intention of providing. The Council only seldom condemns or defines; mostly it explains and exhorts. If we are looking for a millstone to hang around a sinner’s neck, and we find instead a guide to understanding the Church better, living a deeper life of faith, and bearing a more luminous and attractive witness, are we right to complain that the solution lacks weight?

I want to emphasize that there are certainly questions that can be raised about this or that conciliar text. The full meaning may not be immediately clear, or we may have new questions which were not addressed at all. But this is also true of every condemnation and every definition ever issued by the Church. We grasp things piecemeal, not whole. Over time, new angles, new interests, new questions and new distinctions emerge. The Magisterium frequently rounds out in later statements what she has asserted in earlier ones. The Council of Nicaea defined that Jesus Christ was true God, of the same substance with the Father; a century and a quarter later, at Chalcedon, erroneous applications of that teaching were balanced by the definition of Our Lord’s two natures in one Divine person.

So there is always the possibility of confusion and the opportunity for fresh questions. But it is also important that we be spiritually honest with ourselves. If we are determined to blame the Council for the faults of the post-conciliar Church, we will doubtless first claim the Council taught error. Seeing over time that such a claim is utterly vacuous, we might argue that at least the Council was imprudent for challenging the Church to do something that contemporary conditions made difficult. And then seeing over time that even this claim is utterly vacuous, we might seek finally to wash our hands of the whole thing. “In any case,” we might announce with a loud harrumph, “the text was too vague and too wordy for any sensible person to make anything of it!” But wait: Doesn’t this sound exactly like sour grapes? Perhaps it should.

The reality is that Catholics have always believed ecumenical councils to be the highest exercise of the Church’s authority, signaling a deep and abiding action of the Holy Spirit. We absolutely must recognize what this implies. Dismissing an ecumenical council as “wordy” or “vague” comes perilously close to a sin against the Holy Spirit. It is rather like an ad hominem argument: I will not attend to you, because I don’t like how you look; I don’t like how you talk. Might this indicate a rather stubborn refusal to open ourselves to the gifts the Holy Spirit has intended the Church to receive? Should we not rather invest considerable effort in grasping and applying what the Council worked so hard and so carefully to accomplish?

I suggest there is need for repentance and healing here. I understand how this came about, how many sins on the part of others have precipitated this attitude. But in all charity, I cannot just let it go. It is not only liberals and Modernists who are stiff-necked and stubborn. Let those who have questions about the meaning of this or that passage raise them in good faith. But let us beware of acting as if it is the Holy Spirit who does not understand.