Revolution or Evolution?
At the ninth public session of Vatican
Council II, on December 7, 1965, Pope Paul VI promulgated the Declaration
on Religious Liberty, Dignitatis Humanae (DH). From the time that
the first informal schema, the so-called “Fribourg Document,” was
drafted two years before the Council until the vote on the sixth and
final schema in November, 1965, the subject of religious liberty was
controversial. Compared to the great conciliar constitutions (e.g.
Lumen Gentium and Gaudium et Spes), where the Council broadly spoke
its mind and where it supplied exceedingly rich contexts for taking
stock of things, DH is very short, terse, and anything but loquacious.
In any event, in December, 1965, there were more non-placet votes
registered for DH than for any other document approved by the Council.
Does DH represent a revolution or an evolution in Church teaching?
Since 1965, the far left and right have been in heated agreement that
this pamphlet sized document augers a revolution — or, as Hans Kung
put it, a “mutation” — rather than an evolution. Archbishop Lefebvre,
for example, refused to sign it. Since 1965, any number of prominent
theological dissenters — Hans Kung, Richard McBrien, Charles Curran,
Juan Luis Segundo — have appealed to DH in support of the position
that because the Church changed its official teaching on religious
liberty it is liable to do so on other issues as well. Even those
who have not been interested in radicalizing DH have tended to make
claims on its behalf which go well beyond what the document actually
says.
Dignitatis presents us with two distinct sets of problems, each of
which might trigger the question whether DH represents an evolution
or revolution in the Church’s teaching. Roughly, they fall into what
Americans would call issues of free-exercise of religion and establishment
of religion. First, what is the nature and scope of the right to freely
practice one’s religion without interference by human authority? Second,
what are the duties of human communities, including the state, to
recognize religious truth?
In this essay I will address the second of these questions. Does DH
represent a “mutation” or “revolution” on the duties of societies
to religious truth? The answer is, no. DH remains mostly silent on
the issue of the confessional state. Its silence was deliberate. As
I will explain, the drafters of DH had good reasons for putting the
problem to one side. On the other hand, DH does address what could
be called the obverse of establishment, namely, the reduction of the
Church to an organ of the state. In so doing, the Council wanted to
exorcise a ghost that had haunted the modern relations between the
Church and states. Rather than a revolution or mutation of traditional
teaching, DH brings to completion a fundamental principle undergirding
the Church’s posture toward civil government.
Interpreting the Silence
In DH §1 we find a clear statement of
the scope of the Declaration: “Religious freedom, which men demand
as necessary to fulfill their duty to worship God, has to do with
immunity from coercion in civil society. Therefore it leaves untouched
traditional Catholic doctrine on the moral duty of men and societies
toward the true religion and toward the one Church of Christ.” It
might prove surprising, if not frustrating, that DH puts to one side
any theoretical treatment of the complexus of issues which directly
touch, in American terms, upon establishment of religion. Instead,
DH treats the civil liberties required for the protection and fulfillment
of man’s duty to worship God. Undoubtedly, the discussion of religious
liberty will have implications for that other complexus of issues
which we call “establishment.” One implication is mentioned, very
briefly, at DH §6. In circumstances where one religion is given “special
civil recognition,” the rights of other citizens and religious communities
should be recognized and protected.
A reader might say to himself: After all these centuries of Church
and society constituting a kind of corpus mysticum (in the East since
the 4th century, in the West since the 8th), and after all the various
and sundry establishments of religion, it hardly seems possible that
the “official” reckoning with this history would be reduced to the
disclaimer in §1 regarding what the Council leaves untouched and the
rather terse sentence of §6 on the need for the state to respect the
rights of minorities in situations where the Church is privileged
in the constitution. The correct answer is that it isn’t possible
because DH does not undertake such a reckoning. For the Vatican Council
II, it was quite enough to tackle the problem of religious civil liberties
of individuals, communities, and the Church Herself.
It is not always easy to respect the silence of a position, but here
such discipline is necessary. DH should not be made to resolve every
kind of theoretical or practical issue which might touch upon the
relationship between the Church and governments. The relationship
between church and state, and, more broadly between religion and society,
is thrown across a vast historical, social, philosophical, and theological
canvas. Even if DH represented a compendium of answers to every theoretical
problem (which it does not), history will continue to entertain us
with unanticipated and difficult problems in the sphere of application
of principles to facts. My point is that DH should not be made to
carry freight it wasn’t meant to bear.
Besides the fact that the drafters of DH could not agree on how to
formulate and resolve every problem, other reasons can be given for
their decision to emphasize religious liberty rather than establishment
or disestablishment of religion: (1) It would have taken a Herculean
effort to sort through 1500 years of history, with all its contingencies,
for the purpose of identifying which governmental expressions of Catholicism,
or for that matter, of religion, were good, merely acceptable, or
unacceptable; (2) By the 1960s the pressing problem was how to induce
secularist regimes to respect freedom of religion as well as how to
use the Church’s resources to support constitutionally limited government
in the wake of the World Wars; (3) Although it might come as a surprise
to many American jurisprudents, the Catholic Church did not, and does
not, believe that disestablishment is a principle superior to free
exercise. I will have more to say about this point in just a moment.
Finally, (4) it should be said that both Vatican II and John Paul
II have addressed the need for a theology of social liberty, especially
as regards the laity and sacralization of culture. In a certain respect,
this theological reflection has just begun. At least in hindsight
we can see why in 1965 it would be precipitous to force DH to resolve
the hypothetical issue of how religious liberty and governmental confession
of religious truth might be authentically synthesized in a distinctly
contemporary mode. Gaudium et Spes §43 invites the laity “to impress
the divine law on the affairs of the earthly city.” [lex divina in
civitatis terrenae vita inscribatur]. The Decree on Laity, Apostolicam
actuositatem, similarly says: “The whole Church must work vigorously
in order that men may become capable of rectifying the distortion
of the temporal order and directing it to God through Christ. Pastors
must clearly state the principles concerning the purpose of creation
and the use of temporal things and must offer the moral and spiritual
aids by which the temporal order may be renewed in Christ.” The Catechism
of the Catholic Church (at 2105) asserts: “The social duty of Christians
is to respect and awaken in each man the love of the true and the
good. It requires them to make known the worship of the one true religion
which subsists in the Catholic and apostolic Church. [here, citing
DH §1].Thus, the Church shows forth the kingship of Christ over all
creation and in particular over human societies [citing Immortale
Dei and Quas Primas].” Thirty years after the Council, the role of
the laity, in contrast to older notions of clerical rule, have hardly
been digested. Perhaps we should wait to see how and whether culture
is appropriately sacralized before we take up the other problem of
how public authorites might reflect that sacralization.
Such is my understanding of why DH is, for the most part, discreetly
silent on establishment of religion, specifically as to the problem
of governmental exemplifications of religious truth. Is DH completely
silent, however, on the posture of government toward truth? The answer
is, no.
Government and the Veridical Order
DH 3 states that man has been made to
participate in divine governance. The Eternal Law sweetly [suaviter]
disposes man to fulfill his duty to know and to assent to the truth.
Such reference to Wisdom 8:1 has a long history in Catholic theology.
It was one of St. Thomas’ favorite biblical texts for describing divine
governance (see Summa contra Gentiles III.97, and S.T. I 103.8). In
recent times, e.g. in Mit Brennender Sorge (1937) and Summi Pontificatus
(1939), popes have cited the passage in order to admonish governments
to heed the divine exemplar. Before the state imposes its laws and
sanctions, men are already moved by God, who does not work behind
the back of his creature’s nature and freedom. Listen to Pius XI’s
challenge to the Nazis: “Whoever follows that so-called pre-Christian
Germanic conception of substituting a dark and impersonal destiny
for the personal God, denies thereby the Wisdom and Providence of
God who “Reacheth from end to end mightily, and ordereth all things
sweetly” (Mit Brenn. §7). DH not only cites these encyclicals, but
directly appeals to St. Thomas’ discussion of divine authority over
the actus interior (S.T. I-II, 91.4), the interior act of human judgment
and conscience. DH contends that “no merely human power can either
command or prohibit acts of this kind.” So far forth, DH develops
its case in terms which will be familiar to those who know a bit of
Thomism, not to mention the Bible.
Then DH summarizes the duties of government. Negatively, government
should not usurp the order established by God. Positively, government
ought “to take account of the religious life of the citizenry and
show it favor, since the function of government is to make provision
for the common welfare.” DH §5-6 explicitly require government to
foster conditions favorable to religious life. However, it would “transgress
the limits set to its power were it to presume to take charge of or
inhibit acts that are religious.” Here, then, is the proposition.
Government should actively promote, but not usurp, religious acts.
On the face of it, such promotion of religion is exactly what the
Americans courts have deemed a violation of the Establishment Clause.
DH asserts that government can and ought to favor religion while,
at the same time, making sure to respect the principles of nature
and liberty which pertain to human dignity and to divine law. Since
1947, and especially since Lemon v. Kurtzman (1971), American judge-made
law forbids promotion or endorsement not only of a particular religion
but religion in general. Because free exercise of religion would seem
to favor religion (in contrast to, say, free exercise of sport), American
courts increasingly are more comfortable reducing specifically religious
claims to those of free speech or free expression. So, rather than
a enjoying a right to a substantive good of religious liberty, citizens
enjoy an all-purpose right to free speech which cannot be limited
by restraint as to (religious) content. In effect, religious liberty
is rendered completely subordinate to a doctrine of disestablishment,
which itself has come to mean separationism and neutrality.
This is not the place to consider the confusions and dead-ends of
American First Amendment jurisprudence. What matters, for our purposes,
is that DH was wise to prescind from a full-orbed discussion of establishment.
Establishment of religion means different things in different legal
cultures. In some places, establishment means exactly the same thing
that DH means by promotion of religious liberty. The United States
is oldest constitutional republic in the West, but it fumbles all
over itself trying to give ordinary legal precision to how religious
liberty should fit into the theory of disestablishment.
The second point to be made is that, on the issue of the competence
of government in DH §3, the second schema, the Declaratio prior, said
that the “State is not qualified [ineptam esse] to make judgments
of truth in religious matters.” After vigorous debate, this sentence
was abandoned in the penultimate draft. And for good reason. First,
it might have been construed to mean that government lacks even the
epistemic warrant to judge that religion is good, thus undercutting
the argument of DH itself; second, it could obscure the responsibilities
of government on mixed matters, such as marriage and abortion; third,
it almost certainly would have favored the neutralist and indifferentist
doctrines which DH otherwise took such great pains to avoid. In Memorial
and Remonstrance, James Madison insisted that, with respect to government,
“Religion is wholly exempt from its cognizance.” Dignitatis on the
other hand does not remove government altogether from the veridical
order — that is, the order of truth — in matters religious. While
it is true that DH does not provide a detailed map of the acceptable
range of government’s cognizance of religion, we know without doubt
that it doesn’t take the Madisonian position. (Arguably, neither did
the U.S. Constitution before courts decided to improve it).
Rejection of Cuius Regio
So far we have seen that DH remains silent
about the confessional state, with the single proviso that a state
that constitutionally endorses or privileges one religion must nevertheless
protect the freedom of others. Then, we saw that DH does not remain
totally silent on the competence of government vis-â-vis the veridical
order. Even so, DH does not provide us with very much information
about that issue. Now, we turn to a problem about which DH is unusually
loquacious: the freedom of the Church. The most important passage
is at DH §13.
Among the things that concern the good of the Church and indeed the
welfare of society here on earth — things therefore that are always
and everywhere to be kept secure and defended against all injury —
this certainly is preeminent, namely, that the Church should enjoy
that full measure of freedom which her care for the salvation of men
requires. This is a sacred freedom, because the only-begotten Son
endowed with it the Church which He purchased with His blood. Indeed
it is so much the property of the Church that to act against it is
to act against the will of God. The freedom of the Church is the fundamental
principle in what concerns the relations between the Church and governments
and the whole civil order. In human society and in the face of government
the Church claims freedom for herself in her character as a spiritual
authority, established by Christ the Lord, upon which there rests,
by divine mandate, the duty of going out into the whole world and
preaching the Gospel to every creature. The Church also claims freedom
for herself in her character as a society of man who have the right
to live in society in accordance with the precepts of Christian faith.
This independence is precisely what the authorities of the Church
claim in society. At the same time, the Christian faithful, in common
with all other men, possess the civil right not to be hindered in
leading their lives in accordance with their consciences. Therefore,
a harmony exists between the freedom of the Church and the religious
freedom which is to be recognized as the right of all men and communities
and sanctioned by constitutional law.
Whereas DH proceeds very cautiously on other questions, here the wording
is decisive: “this certainly is preeminent [certe praestantissimum
est], namely, that the Church should enjoy that full measure of freedom
which her care for the salvation of men requires.” Such freedom is
called “sacred” [libertas sacra est] because it is endowed by Christ.
Accordingly, the Council can speak without qualification of a “fundamental
principle” [principium fundamentale] in the relation between the Church
and governments — one that cannot be unseated by considerations of
“prudence,” whether those considerations be introduced by the Church
or by the state. In reaching this fundamental principle, it was crucial
to distinguish it from the general right of religious liberty grounded
in human nature moved suaviter by Divine Providence, that is to say,
from the natural right. The Church’s “sacred liberty” stems from divine
mandate, directly rather than via secondary causality. This is why
DH §13 speak of a concordia but not a conflation of the two titles
to freedom.
Unlike the question of whether the state should somehow manifest or
exemplify the claims of the one, true Church — a question that DH
declined to treat, even by way of historical survey — Dignitatis does
indeed treat the obverse of that question. DH rules out the regalist
doctrines which would make the Church an organ of the state. This
is the problem that has haunted the modern history of church-state
relations, mostly, but not exclusively, in Europe.
The Peace of Augsburg (1555) effected a settlement of religious conflict
in Germany on the basis of the formula, cuius regio, eius religio
(whoever rules, his religion). Far from being a flimsy legal device
for a temporary modus vivendi, cuius regio enrooted itself as fundamental
doctrine of state during the age of absolutism. In Catholic nations,
cuius regio often vested itself in the titilature and claims of ancient
Christendom (“the Most Christian Prince,” “Monarch, by the Grace of
God”), when princes were sworn to a quite different ideal of service
to the Church. In the actual flow of history, it was not always easy
to distinguish where cuius regio meant princely service and protection
of the Church and where it amounted to a thinly disguised hijacking
of the Church by the temporal authority. In modern times, it was in
the interest of the regalist party to obfuscate and to make the new
doctrine look like the old one. The situation differed in both ideological
and practical severity according to time, place, and regime. Significantly,
even after the revolutions the doctrine was re-tooled to express the
sovereignty of the new nation-states. In Bavaria, for example, Maximilian
taught: “The doctrine of the two powers is a monstrosity of priestly
ambition. The church is in the state and not the state in the church.”
Gradually, it became clear that cuius regio was a pagan doctrine.
So claimed Wilhelm Emmanuel von Ketteler, Bishop of Mainz, whose thoughts
on this subject were influential during the pontificates of Pius IX
and Leo XIII. While giving due honor to the monarchies of old, Bishop
von Ketteler contended that cuius regio was “nothing more than destructive
idolatry.” Rather than looking to Rome for a model of independent
spiritual authority, the nations wanted to revive the powers of the
ancient Caesars. According to Seneca, Nero said: “Have I not been
chosen to act on earth as vicar of the gods? I am the arbiter of life
and death for the peoples.” (De clementia, I,1,2). Hence, von Ketteler’s
accusation that monarchy (circa 1862) amounted to little more than
“pagan ultramontanism.”
This is indisputably the background of DH 13 — though, undoubtedly,
the totalitarian regimes of eastern Europe and Asia were in the foreground
of the drafters’ minds. DH 13 recites practically verbatim important
sentences of Leo XIII’s Letter to the Church in Bavaria, Officio Sanctissimo
(1887). Bavaria had experienced what was called a “covert Kulterkampf,”
along the lines of the sentiment we quoted above from Maximilian.
Pope Leo wrote: “Of the rights of the Church that it is Our duty everywhere
and always to maintain and defend against all injustice, the first
is certainly that of enjoying the full freedom of action she may need
in working for the salvation of souls. This is a divine liberty, having
as its author the only Son of God, Who by shedding of blood, gave
birth to the Church.” As John Courtney Murray pointed out, the phrase
“freedom of the Church” occurs more than one-hundred times in the
Leonine corpus. While Leo harbored a hope that there would be Christian
princes who contemplate aright their duties to the Church, he never
backed off the first and non-negotiable principle of the Church’s
God-given liberty vis-a-vis temporal authorities.
At the Second Vatican Council it was no longer possible to avoid a
formal and decisive resolution of what I dubbed obverse establishment.
Vatican I might have done so, because the issue was clearly enough
formulated by 1870. At that time, however, it was necessary to pronounce
upon the unity of the Church ad intra, and thus to settle the ecclesiological
question posed by neo-Gallicanism. Pastor Aeternus asserted that unity
with the Bishop of Rome, rather than unity with local sovereigns or
synods, is paramount. That Council, however, put to one side the knotty
problems of the Church’s relationship to the powers ad extra. To be
sure, some “conservatives” lobbied for a statement on the church-state
problem, doctrinalizing the Syllabus of Errors. Given the taut emotions
of that time, such a course was wisely avoided. At Vatican II it was
time to put the problem to rest. So DH 13 should be read alongside
the Decree on Bishops, Christus Dominus, which was issued five weeks
before Dignitatis. Christus Dominus 20 states: “Since the apostolic
office of bishops was instituted by Christ the Lord and pursues a
spiritual and supernatural purpose, this sacred ecumenical synod declares
that the right of nominating and appointing bishops belongs properly,
peculiarly, and per se exclusively to the competent ecclesiastical
authority.” The finishing touch was made in the 1983 Code of Canon
Law: “For the future, no rights or privileges of election, appointment,
presentation or designation of Bishops are conceded to civil authorities.”
(Canon 377.5).
Misunderstandings of the Text
Critics of DH have complained that §13,
despite its Leonine credentials, derogates from the tradition of the
Church. For although it clearly states the obligation of the state
not to absorb the Church, or to regard it merely as one private party
among others, DH§13 does not speak of the state’s obligation (ideally)
to confess the true religion. Archbishop Lefebvre, for one, protested
that the line Libertas Ecclesiae est principium fundamentale is wrong,
because the issue is not merely the state’s duty to the Church, but
its duty to “recognize the social royalty of Our Lord Jesus Christ.”
A complete response to this objection would entail a patient and thorough
survey of where the conciliar documents take up the social ramifications
of Christ as priest, prophet, and king. I might add that the work
of John Paul II is critical in this regard. Here, it will suffice
to reiterate the point I made earlier. DH §1 put the issue of corporate
obligations to confess the truth to one side. Instead, the bishops
investigated the more narrow issue of the civil liberty of human persons
in matters religious, and then turned to the question of the liberty
and mission of the Church. In this context, the principium fundamentale
is clear, decisive, and perfectly in accord with the tradition of
the Church. (See JPII, Redemptor Hominis §12, where the Pope reminds
us to give proper weight to both the first and second part of Dignitatis.)
Still others have objected that the Church has claimed the wrong principle,
even for Herself. Michael Davies, for example, writes: “Pope Paul
VI made it clear that he certainly interpreted Dignitatis humanae
as meaning that freedom alone for the Church can be considered normal
in principle.” Mr. Davies refers to Paul VI’s homily at the close
of Vatican II (Dec. 8, 1965). On this occasion, the message to rulers
(Aux Gouvernants) was read by Achille Cardinal Lienart of Lille, France.
Davies is perplexed by this sentence: “She asks of you only liberty,
the liberty to believe and to preach her faith, the freedom to love
her God and serve Him, the freedom to live and to bring to men her
message of life.” Davies perhaps was mislead by John Courtney Murray,
who quoted the same sentence in support of his personal thesis that
DH renounces all special privileges and establishments for the Church,
and that “her claim is freedom, nothing more.”
In this case, Murray was wrong. In the first place, Murray, who usually
counseled narrow and focused readings of the issues under review,
here tried to make DH (after the fact of its promulgation) resolve
something that it expressly said it would not take up. In the second
place, a doctrinal reading of “nothing more” (the original French
text, elle ne vous demande que la liberté) cannot be supported by
DH, which not only asks the state to preserve liberty within the context
of an “objective moral order,” but also asks the temporal authorities
to appreciate that, according to the Church’s own understanding, its
liberty is grounded in a divine mandate (again, recall the opening
words of DH§13: In societate humana et coram quavis potestate publica
Ecclesia sibi vindicat libertatem, utpote auctoritas spiritualis,
a Christo Domino constituta, cui ex divino mandato — “In human society
and in the face of government the Church claims freedom for herself
in her character as a spiritual authority”). Indeed, DH insists that
the Church’s liberty derives first from Christ (hence, the principium
fundamentale) and also (etiam) from her character as a society of
men. After the Council, Murray voiced a different opinion: “This unique
theological title, however, cannot be urged in political society and
against government. The mandate of Christ to His Church is formally
a truth of the transcendent order in which the authority of the Church
is exercised and her life as a community is lived. Therefore it is
not subject, or even accessible, to judgment by secular powers as
regards its truth or falsity.” It must be noted, however, that this
was Murray’s opinion, which, in my view is contradicted not only by
DH and Gaudium et Spes, but also by some of Murray’s other writings.
In the third place, the sentence that scandalizes Davies is taken
out of context.
Here is the text Aux Gouvernants read by Achille Cardinal Lienart:
We proclaim publicly: We do honor to
your authority and your sovereignty, we respect your office, we
recognize your just laws, we esteem those who make them and those
who apply them. But we have a sacrosanct word to speak to you and
it is this: Only God is great. God alone is the beginning and the
end. God alone is the source of your authority and the foundation
of your laws.
Your task is to be in the world the promoters
of order and peace among men. But never forget this: It is God, the
living and true God, who is the Father of men. And it is Christ, His
eternal Son, who came to make this known to us and to teach us that
we are all brothers. He it is who is the great artisan of order and
peace on earth, for He it is who guides human history and who alone
can incline hearts to renounce those evil passions which beget war
and misfortune. It is He who blesses the bread of the human race,
who sanctifies its work and its suffering, who gives it those joys
which you can never give it, and strengthens it in those sufferings
which you cannot console. In your earthly and temporal city, God constructs
mysteriously His spiritual and eternal city, His Church. And what
does this Church ask of you after close to 2,000 years of experiences
of all kinds in her relations with you, the powers of the earth? What
does the Church ask of you today? She tells you in one of the major
documents of this council. She asks of you only liberty, the liberty
to believe and to preach her faith, the freedom to love her God and
serve Him, the freedom to live and to bring to men her message of
life. Do not fear her. She is made after the image of her Master,
whose mysterious action does not interfere with your prerogatives
but heals everything human of its fatal weakness, transfigures it
and fills it with hope, truth and beauty. Allow Christ to exercise
His purifying action on society. Do not crucify Him anew. This would
be a sacrilege for He is the Son of God. This would be suicide for
He is the Son of man. And we, His humble ministers, allow us to spread
everywhere without hindrance the Gospel of peace on which we have
meditated during this council. Of it, your peoples will be the first
beneficiaries, since the Church forms for you loyal citizens, friends
of social peace and progress.
As the text makes clear, Paul VI was not suggesting that the Church’s
liberty consists only of a negative freedom, which is to be discussed
ad extra only in procedural terms. Paul VI does not ask the states
to establish or even to privilege Catholicism; rather, he asks them
to respect its sanctifying mission and power in society. His remark
about not crucifying Christ anew speaks for itself. It might not be
the best rhetoric (although it certainly had a purchase when the bishops
looked toward eastern Europe), but it certainly militates against
the commonly received sense of this address, which is not surprising
because the preceding and subsequent material is usually left out.
Consider, too, Paul VI’s homily at the last general session of the
Council (Dec. 7, 1965), the day before his message Aux Gouvernants.
“The theocentric and theological concept of man and the universe,
almost in defiance of the charge of anachronism and irrelevance, has
been given a new prominence by the council, through claims which the
world will at first judge to be foolish, but which, we hope, it will
later come to recognize as being truly human, wise and salutary.”
Conclusion
To recapitulate my two main points. First,
the beginning of wisdom in reading DH is to respect its silences.
It should not be read as a treatise (even a small one) on establishment
of religion. For reasons which I sketched out, the silence of DH on
this matter evinces a prudence that should not be dismissed as a mere
pragmatic resignation in the face of disagreement. The issue really
was too complex to sort out properly at that point in time. It falls
to the rest of us, working within the great resources of the Council,
to develop a theology of social, cultural, and civil freedom. These,
in turn, need a fully developed anthropology of freedom.
Nor can we suppose that the status quo of what people mean by “the
state” is a stable thing. We are already witnessing a profound change
in the industrial era, post-Napoleonic nation states. In the near
future, we might be grateful that the Council declined to make its
teaching on religious liberty a backward-looking resolution of 18th
and 19th century church-state battles.
Second, we should pay attention to those issues which DH does settle.
And DH §13 certainly puts to rest any notion of establishment drawn
from the cuius regio tradition, where the Church is established “in”
the state. Contra the People’s Republic of China, which ushered in
the new millennium on Jan. 6 by ordaining state bishops, the Church’s
liberty derives not from union with the temporal sovereign but from
union with Christ and his apostles. And contra Marcel Lefebvre, the
Church is perfectly entitled to assert this truth — the principium
fundamentale — without having to settle every contingency of the historical
past or every hypothetical of the historical future regarding how
particular peoples recognize the kingship of Christ.
DH has put quite a bit on our plate. Yes, there has been an evolution
of the Church’s teaching on establishment of religion. While not denying
that societies have an obligation to acknowledge religious truth,
the Council decided that this was not the chief issue of our time.
Positively, the Council made two principal points. First, where the
Church is privileged in a particular constitution, the rights of others
are to be respected. While some believe this is a puny thought, the
Council’s affirmation that public recognition of religious truth and
free exercise of religion are not incompatible is quite important.
Second, the cuius regio ideology of state supremacy is to be rejected
tout court.
We have work and worry enough without obscuring the voice of the document
by forcing it into unnecessary dead-ends and complications. There
is no point in denying that there are many questions of a theoretical
and practical nature which stand just off the main stage of DH. These
will have to be taken up patiently, carefully, in due season.
Russell Hittinger is Warren Professor of Catholic Studies and
Professor of Law, University of Tulsa
This article first appeared
in Catholic
Dossier
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