As we prepare for a new papacy, an important question faces the church: What foundations do we inherit from Pope Francis’ bold reimagining of Catholic moral theology? How will the church carry forward the vision he nurtured—a vision both thoroughly traditional and courageously new?
The future of Catholic moral theology will be shaped not only by how we remember these initiatives, but by how we respond to the deeper transformation he began—reshaping how we speak with, discern with and accompany one another in faith. Before we can move forward, we must first understand the depth of that change.
When we discuss Pope Francis’ contributions to Catholic moral theology, it is tempting to focus narrowly on how he paved new directions on neuralgic issues: the treatment of the divorced and remarried, the engagement with the L.G.B.T.Q. community or the challenge of climate change and the threat to our “common home.”
It is just as tempting—and just as limiting—to pigeonhole Francis, forcing him into the political categories of “progressive” or “conservative.” But I believe that to understand Pope Francis’ distinctive impact accurately, we need to take a broader view that appreciates how revolutionary, yet thoroughly traditional, was his approach to theological ethics and the Christian life.
A key to Francis’ approach was fostering a culture of ecclesial parrhesia. In the Acts of the Apostles, parrhesia is described as boldness in announcing the Gospel and courageous speech in witnessing to Jesus: “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness (meta parrhesias)” (Acts 4:31).
Francis encouraged this same spirit of courageous speech and forthright truth-telling in the church. In his opening address to the Synod of Bishops in 2014—the first synod of his pontificate—he exhorted the gathered leaders to speak forthrightly, candidly and boldly, even on controversial issues in the church such as sexual morality. “One general and basic condition is this: speaking honestly. Let no one say: ‘I cannot say this,” he said. “It is necessary to say with parrhesia all that one feels.”
This is a major difference from his immediate predecessors. Under their pontificates, many theologians and ethicists felt constrained, as they were explicitly told not to question issues that were considered closed and beyond discussion. These were chiefly in the areas of reproductive, gender and sexual ethics. Those who did so were considered “dissenters” and subjected to various kinds of censure. I remember, as a young theologian, constantly worrying about what I said, how I said it and who would report me for being what they considered “disloyal.”
Pope Francis had a different approach and style. It is often remarked that he did not change official moral doctrines concerning abortion and L.G.B.T.Q. issues. Yet he did something more.
Look at the Person
Pope Francis’ encouragement of open and free discussion among church leaders showed that the world’s bishops did not necessarily share a consensus that the church’s official articulation of its teaching on moral theology was sufficient. During Francis’ pontificate, we discovered that it was not only dissenting theologians and unorthodox Catholics who longed for a different approach in theological ethics; many bishops around the world shared that longing for developments that would reflect our deepest faith convictions while also being more respectful of the complexity of human life and of our evolving knowledge of the human condition.
As a result, under Pope Francis, the word dissent fell into infrequent use. All in the church were encouraged to speak freely from their experiences of life and faith in the search for moral truth. His hallmark initiative, the promotion of synodality, is an outgrowth of Francis’ conviction that the Holy Spirit is still speaking in the church, and that it is only by listening to the voices of all that we can discern what the Spirit is asking and requiring of us.
This trust that the Spirit is still active in the church, and can speak in new and fresh ways, is what underpinned and girded Francis’ transformational relationship with the L.G.B.T.Q. community. His famous question from 2013 is often quoted: “If someone is gay, and searches for the Lord, and has good will, who am I to judge?” The last five words are more often cited, but what is most important are those that precede them. Francis’ move from a stance of judgment to one of accompaniment and discernment was a turning point. Rather than being preoccupied with an issue—like homosexuality— he urged theologians and the whole church to look at the person.
In an interview conducted by Antonio Spadaro, S.J., in 2013 on behalf of La Civiltà Cattolica, America and several other major Jesuit journals around the world, Francis expanded upon his insight, explaining (emphases are my own):
When God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of the person with love, or reject and condemn the person. Here we enter into the mystery of the human being. In life, God accompanies persons, and we must accompany them, starting from their situation.
This declaration, with its multiple repetitions, reveals the revolution at the heart of Francis’ changed engagement with moral issues. He puts the emphasis on persons, not their behaviors or conduct.
He thus exhorted ethicists to never lose sight of the concrete persons who wrestle with moral dilemmas. In fact, he charged ethicists to adopt a stance of discernment. Rather than give answers to what people are to do, ethicists are to help people realize where the Spirit is leading them. As he taught in “Amoris Laetitia,” the church was to help form consciences, not replace them. An implication is that a conscience rightly formed within the tradition may, in good faith, peacefully discern a course of action that responds to concrete realities in ways the church’s general teaching cannot fully anticipate.
But perhaps the lasting feature of Francis’ approach to theological ethics and Catholic moral theology was that he strove to situate the moral life within the context of God’s loving embrace and encounter with human beings. In his first major document, “The Joy of the Gospel” (“Evangelii Gaudium”), Francis lamented how “certain issues which are part of the Church’s moral teaching are taken out of the context which gives them their meaning. The biggest problem is when the message we preach seems identified with those secondary aspects which, important as they are, do not in and of themselves convey the heart of Christ’s message” (No. 34).
In other words, he believed that the church too often conveyed the moral life as a system of rules and laws that were to be unquestioningly obeyed, and that Christian morality was a set of judgements to be inflexibly imposed upon human life, rather than a response to a living relationship with God.
Francis declared a different approach was needed—one that better described the heart of the Gospel and Christ’s relationship with God’s people. This message, he insisted, had to concentrate on “the essentials, on what is most beautiful, most grand, most appealing, and at the same time most necessary” (No. 35). His words never fail to move me, and deserve to be cited in full (emphases are my own):
Christian morality is not a form of stoicism, or self-denial, or merely a practical philosophy or a catalogue of sins and faults. Before all else, the Gospel invites us to respond to the God of love who saves us, to see God in others and to go forth from ourselves to seek the good of others….All of the virtues are at the service of this response of love. If this invitation does not radiate forcefully and attractively, the edifice of the Church’s moral teaching risks becoming a house of cards, and this is our greatest risk. It would mean that it is not the Gospel which is being preached, but certain doctrinal or moral points based on specific ideological options. The message will run the risk of losing its freshness and will cease to have “the fragrance of the Gospel” (No. 39).
Theological ethics, then, is a reflection and analysis that probes the question: How are we to live as people who are radically and deeply loved by God in the face of the challenges that face us in the world? This framing of the question is both revolutionary, in that it overturns a preoccupation with rules, doctrines and judgment. But it is also completely traditional, as it summons us to love our neighbor—all our neighbors—with the same radical and unconditional love with which we have been graced.
Hallmarks
These, then, are the hallmarks of Pope Francis’ approach to moral theology: an embrace of open dialogue and fearless discussion in the search for moral truth and insight; a confidence that the Spirit continues to speak and act within the church and that the Spirit’s wisdom is discovered by respectful listening to all; a focus on the concrete person and a sensitive respect for that person’s goodwill and journey toward understanding what God’s will is for that person here and now; and, above all, an understanding that the moral life is not conformity to a set of judgments and imperatives but a loving response to the God who has already lavishly loved us.
This is the love that impels us, as it did Francis, to embrace the marginalized, the stigmatized and the disdained of the world and in our church. This is the reason for his sharp challenge to a culture of indifference to the poor, his unceasing denunciation of the world’s callousness to the migrant and immigrant, his scandalous (to some) embrace of L.G.B.T.Q. persons and his powerful advocacy of ecological responsibility. All of these Christian demands, he believed, flowed from his discernment of what God’s mercy, compassion and love were asking of those who believe in Christ and from all people of goodwill.
As we now mourn the passing of this remarkable and even transformational pope, the question arises: What now? What is the future of Christian ethics given the powerful legacy of Pope Francis?
What Now?
It is foolish to pretend to know the future direction of the papacy and the church. The world’s cardinals, who will gather on May 7 in conclave to elect Francis’ successor, will have to consider the challenges that face humanity and the church as we move deeper into a world of increasing uncertainty—and even peril. Given this, here is what I would hope for the new pope and our church’s ethical reflection:
I hope that the new pope will be a voice of the unheard. This is what Francis did so admirably and is a witness that is urgently needed as we live in times overshadowed by new forms of isolation, exclusion and rejection. As Pope Francis repeatedly observed, we are living in a time of “epochal change.” When addressing the Vatican’s doctrinal office, the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, in January last year, he noted: “The Dicastery is engaged in the work of understanding the faith as it faces the epochal change that characterizes our time.”
Such change is disorienting and often threatens people’s sense of identity and stability—not only in the social or cultural sphere but also in the ways we live our faith. It often brings out the worst in human beings, intensifying tendencies to scapegoat those considered dangerous and foreign because of their race, sexuality, citizenship status or religion. My hope is that Christian ethics will continue to promote an option for the poor and vulnerable, and give privileged attention to those whose voices are the most silenced in times of uncertainty and deep change.
I hope that the new pope will be a moral conscience for the world, especially in a time when we see rising intolerance around the globe. Sadly, we see few global leaders of ethical integrity who are willing to advance the common good rather than their narrow national and political interests. The tradition of Catholic social ethics speaks of a need to act on behalf of the good of all, promoting the dignity and fundamental rights of every human being and defending the good of the planet for future generations. My hope is that Catholic ethicists, in concert with the new pope, will be courageous and prophetic witnesses who fill an ethical void, speaking boldly and fearlessly the Gospel truth that we all are truly responsible for one another.
Finally, I hope that the new pope will be a prophet of hope. In these uncertain times, people need someone who can inspire them with the faith that, with God’s help, we can meet the serious challenges that face us. We need someone to remind us that our lives are held by the God of deep love who sustains us, wills our well-being and empowers us to act on behalf of others.
My hope is that Catholic ethicists will not only develop moral analyses that critique the serious injustices of our time but also wed these analyses to discourses of hope. For in these precarious times of racial exclusion and ethnic animosity, of tragic wars and inhumane genocides, and of environmental irresponsibility and human fragility, we need more hope, not less.
Francis was such an inspirational voice of conscience. I pray that his successor will continue his legacy and inspire the church to be an inclusive and hope-filled witness to the joy of the Gospel.
