It is difficult to overstate how momentous Gaudium et spes, or the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, was when published in 1965. The constitution was the last document issued by the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) and marked the first time an ecumenical council ever addressed itself explicitly to the entire world. It also transformed the way the Church understood its role in relation to the world, and especially in relation to modernity, with which the Church had previously seen itself in perpetual conflict. In addition to the mission of the Church in the world, the constitution covers a broad array of topics: it provides a distinctive hermeneutics of modernity, offers an account of the human person and her capabilities and ends, and stipulates principles of moral action in relation to marital life, the family, culture, economic and social life, the political community, and international relations. The constitution is divided into two coequal parts: the first broadly characterizes the mission and role of the Church in the world, and the second employs this framework to address specific moral problems in modernity. All in all, Gaudium et spes represents an attempt by the Church to fully confront and embrace aspects of the modern world. As such, it completely reoriented the posture of the Church toward life outside of it and determined the character and tone of Catholic social doctrine for decades to come.
Apart from its pronouncements on specific moral issues, Gaudium et spes exhibits and expands upon several important themes prominent in mid-century Roman Catholic discourse. First, while the constitution does not entirely dispense with a natural law framework, it does not exclusively rely on natural law principles to articulate its conclusions. This differentiates it from earlier encyclicals that treat Catholic social doctrine. While the natural law framework was (and still is) useful to popes in their efforts to communicate with all human persons (and not just the faithful), since all humans are by nature rational and hence can discern basic natural law principles, it often went hand in hand with a lack of historical awareness and a rather static, essentialist metaphysics. Furthermore, the near-exclusive reliance on the natural law to articulate Catholic social doctrine alienated it from Scripture in a manner later deemed inadequate. Gaudium et spes by no means dispenses with the natural law entirely, especially when it comes to marital and family life and its defense of just war doctrine. Yet it also, and perhaps more frequently, invokes Scriptural themes and imitatio Christi to defend and contextualize its claims. In this way, the Council draws on multiple sources in order to speak to a diverse audience that includes Catholics and non-Catholics, Christians and non-Christians; it consequently works with pluralism at the level of moral value with an eye to the pluralist composition of its audience.
Another important theme in the constitution is its repeated critique of what is sometimes called the two-planes theory of the spiritual and temporal realms. There are cruder and subtler versions of this theory, which most simply posits a distinction, but not separation, between the spiritual, supernatural realm of the Church and the temporal, natural realm of secular institutions and associations (like the state). Gaudium et spes takes aim at an overly spiritualist, otherworldly version of this theory that devalues human action in the temporal realm and effectively privatizes the Christian life. To the contrary, the Council stresses that Christians have responsibilities to fellow humans that they cannot overlook and must, for the sake of love and justice, fulfill. The Council effectively embraces the idea of the Kingdom of God as “already but not yet” manifest on earth: “While earthly progress must be carefully distinguished from the growth of Christ’s kingdom, to the extent that the former can contribute to the better ordering of human society, it is of vital concern to the Kingdom of God” (39). To be sure, the Council does not entirely dispense with the two-planes theory; Gaudium et spes does not erase the distinction between Church and world and, as natural law political theory would have it, affirms the relative autonomy of the political sphere insofar as it has its own laws, values, and moral principles proper to it (36, 76). At the same time, the Council nevertheless insists that out of the “religious mission” conferred on the Church by Christ “comes a function, a light and an energy which can serve to structure and consolidate the human community according to the divine law.” Thus, when circumstances demand it, the Church “can and indeed should initiate activities on behalf of all men, especially those designed for the needy” (42).
A third core theme of Gaudium et spes that echoes its rejection of an overly spiritualist conception of the mission of the Church is its concern for the whole person and what it calls her “integral vocation” (57). In part, this concern stems from the constitution’s hermeneutics of modernity: the Council takes stock of the “signs of the times” and concludes that “the modern world shows itself at once powerful and weak, capable of the noblest deeds or the foulest; before it lies the path to freedom or to slavery, to progress or retreat, to brotherhood or hatred” (9). The modern world is therefore “imbalanced,” and this imbalance is ultimately rooted in an imbalance “in the heart of man” (10). Because human individuals and societies are not whole, i.e. because they are “imbalanced,” they need an integration that the Church can help provide. Yet this “integral perfection of the human person” can only be achieved by way of an adequate theological anthropology (59).
Gaudium et spes sketches such an anthropology in its first chapter. In brief, the Council states that the human person: is social by nature, and hence situated in various communities; is, due to sin, often inclined toward evil; is made of body and soul, but nevertheless one; has certain material needs, to whose fulfillment she has natural rights; can know reality, even if certitude about reality is obscured by sin; can, with the the help of the Holy Spirit, “come by faith to the contemplation and appreciation of the divine plan” (15); can, via conscience, detect the law of God and therefore live by objective norms of morality; enjoys freedom, even if that freedom stands in need of divine grace; has natural rights to choose a way of life and found a family, as well as to education, employment, respect, appropriate information, privacy, and religious liberty; is created in the imago Dei, which confers upon her the utmost dignity; and is called to communion with God by God, in whom she has her final end. This is but a sketch that fails to incorporate all that the constitution has to say about the human person, but it offers a sufficiently clear idea that, for the Council, humans are complex and multifaceted creatures to whom the Church must minister in their existential entirety. While the Church is especially and appropriately concerned with the supernatural end of the human person, it is not exclusively preoccupied with the final destination of her soul.
One last theme critical to Gaudium et spes is its attentiveness to history and the historicity of the Church itself. This, too, marks a notable departure from pre-conciliar ecclesial discourse. The prevalence of this theme in the constitution operates at several levels. At one level, the Council concedes that the Church has learned from historical experience: “The Church herself knows how richly she has profited by the history and development of humanity” (44). The histories of civilizations, the sciences, and various cultures have helped reveal hitherto unknown or obscure aspects of human nature and, as such, have benefited the Church in its ministry toward the faithful. At another, related level, the constitution claims that history has also helped the Church articulate what its role should be in the world: in this reflection, the Church “always has great need of the ripening which comes with the experience of the centuries” (43). This concession is especially salient in view of just how revolutionary Gaudium et spes is in its description of the Church’s role in the modern world when compared to the Church’s defensive posture toward modernity for most of the prior century. At a third level, the Council admits that in the Church’s own history, it has not always lived up to the moral demands of the Gospel. The constitution states that the Church “is very well aware that among her members, both clerical and lay, some have been unfaithful to the Spirit of God during the course of many centuries.” It is important for the Church to be conscious of these “defects” in its history and, to the extent that they persist in the present, “struggle against them energetically, lest they inflict harm on the spread of the Gospel” (43). Finally, at a fourth level, the motivation behind the constitution—and the entire Second Vatican Council—stems from the particular historical situation of modernity. It is on account of this historical situation that the Church must rearticulate its role in the modern world in addition to its doctrinal stances on historically conditioned moral problems (like the exploitation of industrial labor, unequal worldwide economic development, and nuclear proliferation, to name just a few).