Levada's defense of the Catechism

After the initial publication of the Catechism of the Catholic Church then Archbishop William J. Levada published a defense of the new catechism: The New Catechism: An Overview . I say “defense,” because while Levada's presentation of the CCC is an overview, it is also and importantly a response to criticisms that had been leveled at it. That Levada should have presented this defense or overview is hardly surprising, since Levada had been a principal editor of the CCC. Indeed, It was commonly speculated that the reason Pope Benedict XVI appointed Levada as his own successor in the post of Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith may have included Levada's work on the CCC as well as the fact that the two of them had worked together at the CDF in the past (2000-2003). What I wish to draw attention to in Levada's defense of or presentation of the CCC is the strain of what can only be described as fideism which he displays, in common with his mentor, Joseph Ratzinger/B16. (We previously drew attention to that in our discussion of Ratzinger's lecture on Biblical interpretation: Biblical Interpretation in Crisis: The 1988 Erasmus Lecture). In addition to this fideistic strain, the two men also share another tendency of the Nouvelle Théologie—a conviction that a return to a greater emphasis on the Patristic authors, the “Fathers” of the Church, is a key to renewal in the modern Church. Included in that is a devotion to Patristic modes of scriptural interpretation and a skeptical (if not downright hostile) attitude toward modern historical-critical interpretation—this despite Benedict's repeated but grudging acknowledgments that the historical-critical approach must, in fact, take precedence.

Levada begins his presentation by quoting the words of John Paul II on the occasion of promulgating the new catechism. In those remarks, JP2 gave his views on the purpose of any catechism:

"A catechism should faithfully and systematically present the teaching of sacred Scripture, the living tradition of the church and the authentic magisterium as well as the spiritual heritage of the fathers and the church's saints, to allow for a better knowledge of the Christian mystery and for enlivening the faith of the people of God" (apostolic constitution Fidei Depositum).

And Levada agrees with this—more or less: “Here I would only observe that this summary description would more or less be applicable to any catechism in any time or place.” What that “more or less” could mean he doesn't explain, so it's anybody's guess. What's notable about this statement is the assertion that a catechism, any catechism, should present the “spiritual heritage of the fathers and the church's saints.” We have seen in our discussions of issues such as the question of original sin and of the response of theologians (including fathers, doctors and saints of the Church) that the worth of that heritage varies considerably. Parts of that heritage have proven highly destructive to the Church over the course of centuries. In fact, this description sounds more compendious than would ordinarily be understood by the term “catechism,” which is typically understood to be a summary of basic principles. It would appear, therefore, that the aims of the Church in promulgating the CCC were rather more ambitious than its public statements would indicate. And that itself is also notable since, as Levada quotes Cardinal Avery Dulles' summary of the post Vatican II attitude toward catechisms as distinctly dismissive:

"It was assumed [a decade ago] that in the brave new church then emerging there would no longer be any need for a universal 'Roman catechism.' . . . Today, however, the problems are seen to be more complex. . . . The tensions of our time have made it increasingly evident that for Catholicism to endure in the 'global village' visible structures of unity are essential. A vibrant sense of Catholic unity seems to require not only an inner union of spirit but a measure of common catechesis, common legislation, common customs, common symbols and common ministerial oversight" (The Reshaping of Catholicism, 1988, p. 205).

If we are to take Levada's embrace of Dulles' words at face value, then it appears that the Church hierarchy views the CCC as “essential” to the effort of Catholicism to “endure in the global village.” In other words, the CCC doesn't aim to be simply a traditional catechism—a summary of basic principles.  Rather, it aims to be a summary of both the truths and the spirit of the Catholic faith, in its preaching, its practice and its prayer and sacramental life. This is an ambitious goal, indeed, and presupposes a vision of the Church as an ideal. As we have already hinted, that ideal appears to share elements of the Nouvelle Théologie, importantly including the belief that a return to the “patristic” Catholicism of the Fathers is needed. This in turn implies a re-embrace of the Augustinian tradition and a denigration of the spirit and thought of Thomas Aquinas.

But let me qualify, or at least explain, what that means. I'm not suggesting that Aquinas will be demoted from his status as a Doctor of the Church or anything of that sort. Part of this spirit behind the CCC derives from simple intellectual confusion of the sort that is on full display in the thought of JP2. For example, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, JP2 reveals his naïve enthusiasm for post-Kantian, neo-Cartesian thought of the sort that was long ago definitively discredited by Gilson in his Thomist Reason and the Critique of Knowledge. In the notes to the book, JP2 naively dismisses the philosophy of being as a more or less pro forma exercise, to be followed quickly by what really interests him: the study of “Kantian personalism,” which he sees as the perfect expression of the Christian “evangelical counsel.” The hopelessness of constructing a hybrid system from two utterly incompatible “philosophies”--an undertaking which Gilson described as “an exercise in philosophical teratology”--points to a deep confusion. Nevertheless, here we see a poorly, if at all, understood Aquinas set in a corner, and Kantian thought placed at the center of Christian thinking. True, Aquinas is trotted out like a museum piece when push comes to shove, especially when the Church faces a determined moral challenge and there is nowhere else to turn for clarity, but the spirit of Thomism is far from the center of Catholic thought.

As we have previously seen, these are matters are also dear to Ratzinger/B16's heart. He has often expressed his emotional antipathy for what he chooses to term, somewhat anachronistically, “scholasticism.” Indeed, as a graduate student he gravitated toward the fideistic thought of Bonaventure, which we have already examined. Thus it comes as no surprise that Ratzinger should implicitly accept the validity of the Kantian critique of metaphysics (cf. Biblical Interpretation in Crisis: The 1988 Erasmus Lecture). The Platonic tendency of his thought is also clear from his championing of Augustine (and his refusal to acknowledge the reality of the Augustinian tradition in Western thought). Indeed, his determined misunderstanding of the Church's intellectual history was apparent in his famous address at the University of Regensburg (cf. Benedict at Regensburg), in which he identified the challenge to reason as a “dehellenization” of the West—thus placing Hellenic thought (Platonic, in essence) at the very heart of Christian faith! Tellingly, while B16 bemoaned the loss of reason and urged its recovery as essential to the identity of the West, he had nothing positive to offer in furtherance of that endeavor. In point of fact, the whole tendency of his thought has for decades been one almost of philosophical despair and a readiness to relapse into an open fideism. He acknowledges the authority of Aquinas and of historical study, but his heart is far from either in a true Christian sense. Rather, he prefers, and recommends, the “richness” of allegorical and typological uses of scripture.

As if to confirm this overall “back to the Fathers” context for the CCC, Levada next states that assures his listeners that the Church is seeking a “full and confident Christian adulthood” formed by the CCC:

Without an organic and comprehensive knowledge of the faith, our people will be "retarded" in comparison with the rest of their development. Without genuine conviction which they can articulate, they will necessarily be handicapped by uncertainty and timidity in responding to the call to be apostles...

What could be wrong with that? Levada even quotes, second hand, the famous words of J. H. Newman:

"I want a laity . . . who know their faith, who enter into It, who know just where they stand, who know what they hold and what they do not, who know their creed so well that they can give an account of it and who know enough of history to defend it. I want an intelligent well-instructed laity. . . . And one immediate effect of your being able to do all this will be your gaining that proper confidence in self that is so necessary for you (cited in E. D'Arcy, "The New Catechism and Cardinal Newman," Communio X) 43 Fall 1993, 49-7).

In fact, these are all admirable sentiments. It so happens, however, that they are expressed by the Scotist influenced Newman who for all his historical knowledge was a philosophical skeptic who embraced a form of fideism. Ratzinger, a long time admirer of Newman, has repeatedly expressed his skepticism regarding the historical-critical method and appears to accept the modernist critique of historical studies in general. We must therefore wonder whether these words are more than fine sentiments and will animate a true revival of a robust and realist Catholic intellectualism.

As we approach the heart of the presentation, at which point Levada will address the primary criticism of the CCC, the “back to the Fathers” drumbeat continues. That criticism is that the CCC indulges in uncritical “proof texting,” taking Biblical passages out of context to make theological points. Levada prefaces his addressing of that issue by once again appealing to “the fathers of the great patristic age”:

The unity of the Christian faith is also witnessed by the way in the which the catechism allows the fathers of the great patristic age, and the saints of all ages, to give testimony to the apostolic faith which the church has proclaimed from the beginning. For these writers the Scriptures were the primary source for knowing God and his revelation; they remain so for us today. Therefore the catechism's use of Scripture is of special importance. It was criticized by some at the time of the circulation of the draft for the consultation of the world's bishops, and the catechism committee paid careful attention to the criticisms, with the assistance of a team of biblical experts.

Is this a hint that Levada will be nailing a patristic flag to the CCC mast? The answer appears to be, Yes. Levada's response to the “proof texting” criticism appears to boil down to: if it was good enough for “the fathers of the great patristic age” it should be good enough for us. But let's examine what he says more closely.

Levada begins his defense by attempting to redefine the problem.

But the problem is not so much with the catechism's approach to the Scriptures, but with a proper understanding of the Catholic way of interpreting Scripture itself. Far from the suggestion of "proof texting" made by some, I see the catechism's use of Scripture entirely consistent with the use made of it by the church fathers and by its liturgy. The church uses Scripture as its own book, with a familiarity that lets her read it as God's word from start to finish. The whole dogmatic and spiritual tradition of the church, while paying careful attention to the data of biblical exegesis and enlightened by the insights of modern historical-critical methods, probes the Scriptures under the guidance of the Holy Spirit to discern the true meaning of the whole of God's revelation.

Now, this is troubling. Theologians object to the CCC's proof texting approach to Scripture, and Levada's reply is, in so many words: you guys just don't understand the Catholic way of interpreting Scripture; the Catholic way of interpreting Scripture is the way the Fathers interpreted Scripture. This view, which is Ratzinger's own, assumes that the Platonized theology of the Fathers is paradigmatic for Catholic theology, for all ages—Hellenism is (as Ratzinger's lament over “dehellenization” shows) considered to be essential to Christianity rather than the culturally conditioned development that it was. The problem with this tack, however, is that the typologically driven way the Fathers interpreted Scripture does not appear to be the way that Jesus himself interpreted Scripture. Further, it ignores the fact that there was significant theological thinking both before and after the Fathers. We have no wish to deny the fact of Plato's overwhelming influence in the West but, nevertheless, before, say, Origen, there was important theological thinking going on (not least among the writers of our New Testament books) which was not yet Platonized, and after the age of the Fathers, there were important figures such as Aquinas who did not fit that mold, either. Nor is Ratzinger's acknowledgement that, yes, the historical-critical method is the absolute basis of Scriptural studies, just as Aquinas said, etc., sufficient reassurance, for when we look at the overall emphasis in his writings there can be little doubt about the trend of his thought.

Moreover, Levada's comments also raise the question of an objective control over interpretation of Scripture. It sounds reassuringly pious to say that “the Church...probes the Scripture under the guidance of the Holy Spirit,” but that doesn't begin to solve all problems. Rather, this posture in fact raises important new problems in an acute form. Barring the odd infallible definition of doctrine—and Levada in a slightly different context is quick to point out that “much of the church's doctrinal tradition has never been formally defined as such”--how can one determine how much of the theologizing that has gone on through two millenia has indeed been Spirit-guided? Iindeed, just how much doctrinal definition has in fact followed the allegorizing and typologizing traditions of the Fathers? Original sin comes quickly to mind, but there is little if anything else that we can point to—perhaps one of the surest signs of divine guidance. And even in the case of original sin, it is ever more clear that the traditional Augustinian doctrine is simply no longer accepted in the West, precisely because it is now understood to lack a proper Scriptural basis. In short, the Church has as a matter of fact—a matter of prudence, as well—adhered closely to a literal approach to Scripture almost exclusively when it has come to defining doctrine. The allegorical and typological approach has, indeed, figured widely in the world of piety and devotion (to what effect we will not here ask), but to allow allegory to enter the arena of Scriptural interpretation or of dogma would quickly open Christian doctrinal development to charges of arbitrariness that would undermine the Church's teaching authority and be impossible to counter convincingly (cf.Anselm's Platonism and the Development of Doctrine).

In a sense we can see that Ratzinger's approach to Scriptural interpretation is similar to Wojtyla's approach to philosophical issues. Wojtyla's approach was to relegate the philosophy of being to an almost pro forma, marginalized introductory role before diving into the supposed depths of Kantian personalism. Similarly, Ratzinger appears to acknowledge the primacy of the historical-critical method (the literal approach) only to relegate it to the sidelines in favor of other non-historical methods, and especially that of the Fathers. Each approach appears to naively assume that incompatible positions can somehow be linked, but that is impossible: Kantian personalism cannot be based on a Thomist philosophy of being, and allegorical interpretation of Scripture can never be allowed to influence doctrine once the primacy of history is acknowledged. Indeed, this should be so obvious that one must suspect a degree of disingenuousness or of intellectual posturing.  Nevertheless, behind this is an intellectual conviction (certainly in Ratzinger's case) of doubt regarding the worth and power of human reason especially in the field of history.  Ratzinger's concern for reason, it turns out, is focused on the Platonic manipulation of ahistorical abstractions, as applied allegorically and typologically to Scripture.

We are not alone, it would seem, in harboring these doubts over the wisdom of Ratzinger's approach, and of his promotion of clerics such as Levada who are willing to second his views. N. T. Wright, in his review of Ratzinger's Jesus of Nazareth, The Pope’s Life of Jesus, expresses similar concerns. Note, in the following passage, that Wright cautiously states that Ratzinger “has not simply ignored history.” He appears puzzled at exactly what Ratzinger is about. He duly notes Ratzinger's denials that he is putting theology before the historical cart (which would be inadmissible in an historically based faith) and quotes Ratzinger's desire to combine a “faith-hermeneutic” with “a historical hermeneutic.” But having gone this far with Ratzinger, Wright then expresses his doubts: he clearly suspects Ratzinger is nevertheless attempting to somehow sidestep historical issues: “Many, though, will inevitably see it as a step backwards, to a pre-modern, pre-critical reading which simply pushes the problems to one side and allows the great ecclesial tradition to rumble on as if there had been, after all, no real cause for concern about the reliability of the New Testament in the first place.” Here is the full passage:

Yet he has not simply ignored history. He has read the great German exegetes of the past generation, Protestant as well as Catholic, and draws on them for particular points even though the format of his work does not make for detailed discussion. He denies the suggestion that he is producing a “Christology from above” (in which the orthodox theological cart is placed before the historical horse) by arguing that scholarly exegesis of the New Testament “must see itself once again as a theological discipline, without abandoning its historical character”, forswearing popular but shallow positivism and combining a “faith-hermeneutic” with “a historical hermeneutic” so as “to form a methodological whole”.

The Pope suggests that this is a step forwards. Many, though, will inevitably see it as a step backwards, to a pre-modern, pre-critical reading which simply pushes the problems to one side and allows the great ecclesial tradition to rumble on as if there had been, after all, no real cause for concern about the reliability of the New Testament in the first place. The parallels between this approach and the stance that the Church is perceived to take on some other issues will, naturally, raise eyebrows. The business of whether theology and history can actually meet without a serious explosion is of course a question which, in one form or another (whether through debates on science and religion, or on faith and politics), has stood behind a good deal of intellectual conflict in the West over the past two centuries. Many will take more convincing than is provided in Jesus of Nazareth before they will readily accept such a marriage.

The problem for Wright is that he appears to be unfamiliar with some of Ratzinger's earlier writings on method and interpretation. As a result, while Wright is clearly suspicious that something untoward and anti-historical is afoot, he is unable to put his finger on it. As we have previously discussed (Biblical Interpretation in Crisis: The 1988 Erasmus Lecture), Ratzinger in fact wishes to somehow incorporate faith into the method of Biblical Interpretation—this is what he means by a “faith hermeneutic.” His complaint against the historical-critical method is that “Faith itself is not a component of this method,” and he adopts a frankly deconstructionist stance against what he clearly regards as the pretensions of the historical-critical method (no matter how much he may protest to the contrary) by posing skeptical questions such as: “They want to take the Bible again in its literal purity, just as it stands and just as the average reader understands it to be. But when do I really take the Bible 'literally'?”

The end result of this is clear. Ratzinger's clear tendency is toward a fideism which has no philosophical underpinnings. Christians are part of a “faith tradition,” but unless one is within that “faith tradition” there is really no rational justification for it. Faith, one presumes, will arise as a matter of subjective need or desire. This, of course, is the classic Augustinian approach, which was also that of Newman. It has no warrant in authentic Catholic teaching, however, and ultimately cannot speak to anyone outside the faith. It is, ironically, a rejection of precisely that return to reason that Benedict has called for as the theme of his papacy.

Now, none of this is to deny that the CCC constitutes a valuable reference work or that there is much of worth in it. What it does mean, however, is that the reader must be aware of the agenda of its promulgators and must read it with a critical eye. An awareness of this agenda also suggests that those who adhere to it may be flawed when it comes to formulating a program for the Church's renewal.