Like many raised within the milieu of the Greater New York metropolitan area, I began watching Scorsese films well before I reached the recommended viewing age. Encompassed within the breadth of his directorial range, Scorsese frequently explores the complexity of religious belief and practice, often brought into tension with dark settings that dive into the harsh realities of human suffering. In what is perhaps his most provocative work, The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), Scorsese explicitly addresses the depth of Jesus’s vulnerability as he contends with the pulsating fear of death as well as the alluring enticement of leading an ordinary life. Infamously, throughout the film, Jesus experiences vivid hallucinations, where he is enraptured with erotic thoughts of an intimate sexual companionship with Mary Magdalene and, later, following her death, Martha and Mary of Bethany.
Needless to say, the initial premiere caused quite a stir, shocking the sensibilities of many viewers. At the time of its wider release, Mother Angelica, nun and founder of the Eternal Word Television Network publicly castigated the picture, insisting that it was, “a holocaust movie that has the power to destroy souls eternally” and that it was “the most blasphemous ridicule of the Eucharist that’s ever been perpetrated in this world.” Thankfully, Mother Angelica’s opprobrium did not garner a wider interdict from the Vatican, and millions of Catholics could witness this deliberately rousing yet reflective examination of the weight and intensity of Christ’s ultimate sacrifice without further pressure from the magisterium. While not a flawless masterpiece, the examination invites us into a wider conversation regarding the impact and aims of the Incarnation. As striking as the illustration of Jesus engaged in sexual acts might seem, however, Scorsese’s film carefully straddles the line between the avant-garde and the conventional, opting instead to retreat into the mainstream understanding of an incorruptible deity.
Scorsese is not alone in this paradoxical understanding of a vulnerable Jesus coupled with a decidedly ascendant divine nature that seems above the grinding toil of human fragility. While moral theologians have sought to tether the brutality Christ experiences to the chaos and disorientation within our contemporary settings, like Scorsese, many resist taking the next step: an exploration of God’s interdependency with created reality and the subsequent trials and tribulations that would seem to ensue from this participatory journey.
This essay will seek to highlight where one might begin this conversation in ethics by breaking new ground out of the contributions of late twentieth-century esteemed moral theologian, Josef Fuchs. While giving tribute to Fuchs’s noteworthy efforts at reimagining our understanding of moral norms by appreciating the emergent process of human evolution through the appropriation of a dynamic/future-oriented theological anthropology, this analysis will seek to press the limits of his robust framework whilst inquiring what an ethic of vulnerability might look like in an age of terrestrial/ecological crisis.
Fuchs’s Evolutionary Ethic of Co-Creativity
Fuchs’s full intellectual embrace of an evolutionary ethic of co-creativity emerged at a pivotal moment in the history of Catholic moral thought. Appointed to the Pontifical Commission on Population, Family, and Birth in 1963, Fuchshad the task of investigating the moral implications of oral contraceptives. While the magisterium had previously condemned barrier methods of contraception (Casti Connubii, 1930), biomedical research and subsequent advances in hormonal therapy sparked a resurgence of moral speculation surrounding human intervention in sexual activity as it related to reproduction. Putting the particularities of the applied ethical debate aside, it was in this controversial setting that Fuchs embarked upon a more innovative and future-oriented moral theology, which attempted to depart from a “static morality of commands” toward a “responsible search for God’s will that has not been already communicated on every point and in advance” (109). Moved by the lived experience of his time, Fuchs’s moral reflections transitioned from his traditional Thomism, which posited a fixed, unchanging common weal upon which natural law rested to an emergent natural system of participatory ethics, revealing God’s co-dependency with creation witnessed in the life of Christ and the ongoing experience of vulnerability in the lived Catholicism of the twentieth century.
Fuchs affirms the core theological concept of Imago Dei;nevertheless, he simultaneously offers a sweeping reinterpretation of its function as a meta-ethical principle. He writes, “Both the human person and human society are God’s image precisely because they can grasp and comprehend what can or must be seen as valid, and they do so on their own initiative” (110). Therefore, instead of promoting the traditional conclusion that God forms humans complete, Fuchs invites us to explore what an ethic of discovery might look like in a reality where God’s creatures are active shapers of their moral priorities and initiatives. While we are never alone and subsequently exist under the auspicious guidance of the Holy Spirit, humanity must grapple with its exposure to a world in constant fluctuation. In this climate of polarization and misinformation, the task of ethics is to speak the truth even if the conclusion serves as a counterweight to strict adherence to doctrinal pronouncements.
Fuchs contends that the concept of moral objectivity rests upon, “the competent authority of the magisterium” yet the Christian vocational path calls us to challenge, in critical ways, the moral standards of our shared time and space, pressing us further to revisit established fault lines – particularly within realm of issues related to life and human flourishing (104). Fuchs further writes, “Such norms, considered objective in this sense, can not only be inadequate or formulated in an inadequate manner, but can sometimes even be shown to be partially or totally erroneous, whether by competent persons or by a general rethinking in later periods” (104). He concludes that, “Since the norms of rightness are essentially human judgments, and therefore historical, existential doubt can arise. Therefore, if everything is historical and changing – even if not totally – problems remain” (105).
Fuchs’s openness to growth and development liberates his ethics from previously held restraints and enables him to problematize hierarchical conclusions. No longer beholden to and bounded by a tradition enamored with nostalgia for the bygone days of superimposed moral uniformity, his ethic of co-creativity is a dynamic discernment of the emergent truth embodied within our evolving systems of relations, which build upon a plurality of perspectives. Fuchs’s scientifically conditioned framework invites the moral agent into conversation with “those who boldly transgress the limits and safeguards established by the Church,” engaging the voices of those at the forefront of human insights/discovery.
Like other evolutionary-guided thinkers, Fuchs expressed deep concern with conventional approaches of institutional Christianity that insisted upon a stagnant universalizing moral norm. Nevertheless, Fuchs underscored, “that what is objectively right partakes somehow in the absoluteness of God” (117). While affirming the perpetual guidance and assistance of the Holy Spirit, he deplored that “the Church is seen often in an all too spiritualized way” (123). Instead of speaking to the human experience as it was in the twentieth century, the Church offered a set of removed principles and aspirations that sought to fill gaps in moral theology not conveyed directly through scripture. By elevating itself in moral authority, however, the magisterium of the Church neglected to acknowledge, “how very human the Church is and remains despite the assistance of the Spirit” (123).
Fuchs contended that the specification of moral absolutes [if humans could give any witness to them at all] should not be divorced from the concrete circumstances of the moral agent. Whereas the Spirit ushers the Church forward and inspires us to innovate and adapt our ethical standards to reflect a deepening intellectual awareness and external complexification, Fuchs argued that those in positions of authority retreat to the confinement of clear and seemingly coherent teleological explanations, albeit incompatible with the informed science of the present. Therefore, while “the hierarchy of the ecclesial community” is tasked with providing the faithful with a “decisive orientation,” Fuchs articulated that it was incumbent upon moral theologians [along with the wider community of believers] to bring mainstream ethical discourse into the holistic future that Jesus the Christ Incarnate reveals to us (123).
Ultimately, Fuchs believed that individual moral agents themselves, rather than the magisterium, are best positioned/disposed to the emergence of novelty, which influences us to respond alternatively to the pressing moral questions of our time. While the magisterial voices in their imaginative wisdom may serve as a critical influence, these guiding voices must open themselves to an emergent/participatory process. By highlighting the co-creative participation of humanity in ethics, Fuchs envisaged a wider ecclesial shift away from abstract ideals and toward the acknowledgement of behavioral norms that could speak to the greater wholeness, unfolding in our midst.
Co-Creative Ethics in an Age of Crisis and Vulnerability
Fuchs places Jesus Christ at the heart of this future-oriented ethic of co-creativity. For Fuchs, the gospels convey to us that “Jesus is the innovation of the scriptures,” and thus, “Jesus brings his message into the reality of the events of the world” (119). Consequently, to calcify the teachings of Christ into a set of rigid prescriptive rules is to undermine the liberative mission of Jesus Christ. Instead of establishing a fixed set of codes to follow and impose upon others, Christ offers us a model to act in a changing and evolving world. Fuchs claims that Christ consistently displays that it is in tapping into our vulnerabilities that we arrive at a genuine concern for the other.
Fuchs underscores that the moral life of a Christian seeks to walk in the newness of life by embracing the radical unfolding of complexity within our present reality, and by fostering a greater sense of wholeness and intimacy with those separated from us and endangered. Fuchs suggests that the “Concrete, categorical ethical requirements in the scriptures are requirements of a particular time and culture” (120). Therefore, it is “up to us to discover, innovatively, those requirements that are universally human, and those that are temporally and culturally determined” (120). Moreover, Fuchs resists harsh and legalistic moral directives, even if such directives seem to derive from the scriptures. Take, for example, Jesus’s position on adultery [Matthew 5:32], especially in the social context of divorce and remarriage. While Jesus seems to endorse an even stricter custom than the prevailing one of his time, which permitted divorce and remarriage, to project his position forward into our contemporary setting would be to neglect his abiding model of care and concern for the vulnerable. Whereas Jesus’s rejection of divorce in Matthew 5:32 highlights the impact of spousal abandonment and one of the most distressing outcomes of a patriarchal/androcentric society, he advocates not from a position of power/authority but from the vantage point of a woman’s marginalized position in the ancient Jewish world.
A co-creative ethic arouses curiosity, challenges our presuppositions, and delivers us from a world of exclusivity and isolation. Fuchs emphasizes that by imitating the work of Christ in our life pilgrimage, we accept, “that there are no unanimously accepted answers to questions, which, even today, moral theologians cannot resolve” (112). Just as Jesus humbles himself in the presence of the Canaanite woman, realizing and showcasing at that moment his broader mission to all peoples [Matthew 15: 21 – 28], we too must look past our traditional moral safeguards and conclusions. In this effort, Fuchs posits that we will strive for an ethic, “born of the continual progress being made today” (112). Therefore, to lead a Christ-like life becomes a journey of innovation and discovery, which initiates “the loving self-disposal of the person as a whole” (Fuchs, 108).
Christ calls us in totality and displays for us the fullness of our humanity, yet unrealized. Fuchs insists that ethics must extend beyond the performance of individual actions and strive toward the wholeness that the human actively contributes to, a wholeness that requires our acceptance and response. He further maintains, therefore, “Individual failures do not always correspond to a rejection of grace in the depths of basic freedom” (110). For Fuchs, Jesus Christ reveals God’s co-dependency and our call to be co-creators in an unfinished universe. As the Father is dependent upon the Son’s loving response to the vulnerable in his midst, our response to love and develop actualizes God in our reality. While traditional ethics may have provided us with guidance on how to act in particular settings, the call to love transcends/exceeds the limitations of this context and ushers us toward an unfolding future. Love is the driving force that unifies the world, pressing our terrestrial setting further toward a deeper awareness so that we may respond to the crises of our time practically and effectively.
Fuchs’s integrated co-creative ethic decenters our exalted and unapproachable image of Christ. He subsequently anchors his underlying Christology in an experience of and encounter with vulnerability. His suggestion that the discussion within Christian ethics resituate itself in the lives of individuals speaks explicitly to the promotion and well-being of all, especially those neglected by the standardized and unalterable notion of natural law promoted by the pre-Vatican II Church.
Emphasizing a relational God whose emergence in our world is itself affected by the actions of creation, Fuchs seeks to make sense of human agency in an unfinished and evolving world. Fuchs writes, “God is perceived far too anthropomorphically if we think of him as Someone who exists somehow, somewhere, and with whom one must also (in addition to other people) reckon decisively” (59). Moreover, his co-creative ethic stresses the connection between explorations of the question of God and scientific advancement, bringing moral theology into conversation with burgeoning technological progress. Fuchs jettisons a closed system of moral absolutes and legalism for an open system, which appreciates the newness and expansion of life. In doing so, he taps into the evolutionary depths of Christianity and the value it places on our inherent interconnectivity.
Conclusion
Fuchs’s moral theology seeks to intertwine ethics with the teeming web of life in our terrestrial setting. Rather than focus on individual human nature in isolation, Fuchs aims to foster fruitful relationships with the other in our midst. In these encounters, we begin to fundamentally challenge our fixed/set assumptions of morality as we appreciate the diversity within our setting. For Fuchs, to say that normative boundaries are provisional is not to reduce ethical discourse to indiscriminate ambiguity. Rather, it is to expand our moral consideration to the emergent reality and novelty in evolutionary discovery, and science ushers us toward. To acknowledge that in our innovative participation and co-creativity, we witness and begin to come to terms with the expanding horizon of our universe and our subsequent capacity for growth and complexity. What we refer to as the human condition emulates the dynamic life of Jesus Christ, who spoke foremost to the needs of the vulnerable, and revealed to us the remarkable exuberance that is our capacity for love.
