If there is one major misstep in my growth in tradition, it has been an over-reliance on books and blogs and not enough talking to real people, especially older people who lived through the 60s and 70s.
Two nights ago, I had the privilege of getting the closest I will get to a night at the Second Vatican Council. Through an interesting series of circumstances, I wound up driving a gentleman who was in Rome for the entire Second Vatican Council to and from an Anglican Ordinariate Evensong an hour away.
Naturally, conversation turned to those years. For once, I was able to shut my mouth to focus on asking questions and listening.
The gentleman said “If you’re not liberal when you’re young, you have no heart. If you’re not conservative when you’re old, you have no brains.” People were excited to put new ideas into practice, and only once years had passed and revealed the consequences did some pause to reconsider.
Back in the early 60s in Church circles, it was common to hear of people whose teaching and books had been suppressed for unclear reasons. There was a general sense that the hierarchy was trigger happy. Education for priests was tied to watered-down Thomism from the 19th and 18th centuries. These formulas were typically prioritized over knowledge of the fathers and the Scriptures in their original languages.
So when the bishops, many of whom were Scripture scholars and had studied the patristics, convened at the beginning of the Council, they found fault with the original schema on source of Divine Revelation, a hot topic leading up the Council. Though the votes did not reach the threshold legally required to reject the document, John XXIII was not the type to railroad his agenda through heavy opposition and agreed to set aside the schema and permit work on an altogether new document.
This was a watershed moment. For those who felt (not unfairly) that the Church was stagnating under politically motivated condemnations that stifled growth in knowledge of Scripture and the fathers, this was a real moment of hope that the era of unthinking, even toxic, obedience to authority might be ending.
It was not immediately clear how far this pushback toward the old order would go. The radical theologians like fathers Hans Kung and Edward Schillebeecx were not publicly flouting orthodox teaching until after the Council.
In retrospect, there were three councils. There was the actual Council, which published the official documents. There was the theologians’ council, where the actual Council was used as a pretext to push their much more radical ideas into the open. And there was the media council, where secular media used the Council to push their own messages to generate revenue and coerce Catholics into aligning with their political and social views.
In particular, Xavier Rynne of the New Yorker framed the narrative of the Council that has become the norm: compassionate, world-wise bishops bringing a backwards, dictatorial Church into the maturity and complexity of the modern world.
Most telling is his article after Humanae Vitae, in which Rynne paints the encyclical as the first step in repudiating the Council and going back to the way of thinking before John XXIII. The article names the aftermath a more serious crisis in the Church than the Reformation. It quotes numerous bishops, theologians, and academics who reject the encyclical as non-Scriptural and a basic failure in moral law theory. It celebrates Vatican II’s statement on the absolute freedom of conscience and applies it to Catholics dissenting from the encyclical. It then paints Pope Paul VI as the hostage of Cardinals Ottaviani, Cicognani, and others who “opposed the Council from the beginning.”
Whether because of Rynne or the numerous Church figures he quotes, this is exactly the way the Council has been received by most Catholics. The Council means the Church is allowing Catholics to reject its most foundational teachings because everyone has unlimited freedom of conscience to do as they please. Any pushback against this mentality is attacked as the failed mentality of the old Church that wants to go back to modernist “witch hunts.”
The gentleman said that Humane Vitae was the moment when the masks came off. Creating more space for scholars to dig into the Scriptures and patristics without monitoring by Rome was one thing. Sheltering and promoting theologians who flatly contradicted Church teaching was quite another. Though the American bishops were generally supportive, plenty gave cover to theologians who openly rejected it and encouraged other faithful to do the same.
When I asked about the liturgy, the gentleman confirmed two of my pet theories. The first being that the liturgical changes were not demanded by the faithful and were perceived as being forced on them from above. People didn’t know what was going on, especially because the changes happened so quickly. Secondly, once the Church had made massive changes to its liturgy, most faithful assumed it was only a matter of time before the Church changed everything else. Massive changes and “you do you” approaches to the main interaction most faithful have with the Church (Sunday Mass) made it inevitable that most assumed the same attitude would soon apply to moral and doctrinal teaching.
The gentleman related how a group of laity fired up by the Council demanded their own parish from the bishop under threat of leaving the Church. They got one, and when he tried to introduce some polyphony to their Masses he was pushed out quickly. That parish is now about to close after being repulsive to all but the most liberal fringe since it opened in the 70s.
Despite having directed a schola for several years in Rome in the late 50s and early 60s, he had no outlet for his experience in sacred music for decades.
He has attended the local Anglican Ordinariate parish because it is “a bastion of orthodoxy” and has a culture of sacred music very difficult to find elsewhere. It also embodies the actual Council document on the liturgy in that it retains liturgical tradition (ad orientem, traditional prayers, chant and polyphony) while using the vernacular and having more visible lay participation. It is also an example of the Church’s ability to attract and assimilate former protestants.
While this gentleman said there has been some disappointment in the relatively small number of Anglican churches that have entered the Catholic Church under Coetibus Anglicanorum, many sterling individuals have swum the Tiber, including a former chaplain to Queen Elizabeth II. It may also be a refuge if the hierarchy becomes more tyrannical about the Latin Mass.
It was a truly illuminating conversation on a subject dear to my heart, and I hope to have may more with him and others. In these trying times, it is helpful and hopeful to hear from those who came before.






