Today, let us talk about the Second Vatican Council — an event that was more than just a major renewal for the Catholic Church. It was a moment when the question was finally raised: “And where is the other half of humanity?”
This article is about a journey — about how women came to be present in the Council hall. They were denied entry, but they came anyway. How they were not heard, but spoke nonetheless. We will reflect on why their contribution mattered and trace how the Church’s attitude toward women evolved throughout the twentieth century, with the Second Vatican Council as a key turning point.
The World Before Vatican II
At the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, papal teachings emphasized a traditional view of womanhood. What did "traditional" mean back then? It meant seeing a woman almost exclusively within the framework of family life.
In the encyclical Immortale Dei (1885), Pope Leo XIII, quoting Augustine, affirmed the idea that a woman should remain obedient to her husband, stressing the importance of “chaste and faithful submission.” Yet upon closer reading, this stance is not so clear-cut. If we are to quote the Letter to the Ephesians, we must continue reading: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the Church.”
That is — a love that liberates, not dominates.
Later, in his social encyclical Rerum Novarum (1891), Leo XIII strongly criticized the exploitation of workers and the harsh labor conditions endured by women and children. This critique was socially just, yet still rooted in the idea of a woman’s “natural role,” and did not move beyond it. Until the pontificate of Pius XI, the Catholic worldview promoted womanhood primarily through the lens of a “natural vocation” to motherhood, deeply tied to the doctrine of natural law, which was shaped in antiquity and the Middle Ages.
This was a Church that spoke — but did not listen. The world was changing. Women were gaining a voice in politics, culture, and science — yet the Church remained within the confines of the familiar formula: wife, mother, homemaker.
One of the core issues with this view was the theoretical vacuum: there was little to no dialogue between theology, ecclesiastical authority, and the evolving social landscape. Movements for women’s emancipation — whether bourgeois or socialist in origin — were either ignored or openly dismissed by the Church, which failed to see in them a deeper opportunity to reflect on the role of women.
But as the twentieth century progressed, more and more voices began to question such a one-dimensional approach. It was in this context that the phrase “Ecclesia semper reformanda” — “The Church must always be renewed” — became a guiding principle with which Pope John XXIII opened the Second Vatican Council.
The First Sessions of the Council
When the Second Vatican Council opened in 1962, it bore a resemblance to its predecessor: a gathering of men and clergy.
There were no women in sight. Not because there were no qualified women. But because they had not been invited.
Stories remain of how women attempted — each in their way — to gain access to the Council. One such story is that of Belgian journalist Betsie Hollants, who cooked soup and hosted open evenings for bishops attending the sessions. Soup and red wine opened informal doors — and helped her stay informed about what was happening.
When women began requesting official participation, one cardinal replied: “Perhaps ask again at the Third or Fourth Vatican Council.”
Meanwhile, Protestant pastor Douglas Horton, invited as an observer, noted the “artificial atmosphere” of the event — a direct result, he said, of the absence of women.
By the time of the second session in 1963, the wives of non-Catholic observers were allowed to attend some public events. Catholic women, however, still had no presence at the actual Council proceedings.
One particularly symbolic moment involved a Catholic journalist from the press corps. During a shared communion, she was physically stopped by the Swiss Guard and barred from approaching the altar with her male colleagues.
This was not a mere misunderstanding. It revealed a deeper, systemic issue — the exclusion of women from visible ecclesial practices, even in a professional context.
That moment became a mirror, reflecting just how deeply entrenched the exclusion of women was within the Church. And at the same time, it became a spark — one that would slowly but irrevocably lead to a reevaluation of the role of women in the life of the Church—a shift not only in form, but in substance.
The Inclusion of Women in the Council
It was during the second session that Belgian Cardinal Léon-Joseph Suenens looked out across the rows of male prelates and asked: “Where is the other half of humanity?”
Then, on September 8, 1964, Pope Paul VI announced that women would be officially invited to participate in the Council. Just a few weeks later, on September 25, French laywoman Marie-Louise Monnet, founder of the International Movement of Apostolate in Independent Social Milieus (MIAMSI), became the first female observer to enter the assembly hall.
By the end of the Council in July 1965, a total of 23 women had been invited to take part in discussions: 10 religious sisters and 13 laywomen, chosen primarily to ensure international representation. They were later joined by some twenty female experts across various fields.
They were not mere guests. They were bearers of lived experience, witnesses of their time, and voices that would no longer be silent.
The Second Vatican Council became a turning point in Church history — particularly regarding “the women’s question.” While Pope John XXIII had already described the presence of women in public life as one of the “signs of the times” in Pacem in terris, it was Paul VI who made history by officially inviting women to participate as listeners at the Council.
Women's Presence and Influence at the Council
The presence of women at the Council can be interpreted in various ways. Some highlight their meaningful impact on the Council’s process.
Observers like Rosemary Goldie (Australia), Pilar Bellosillo (Spain), and Suzanne Guillemin (France) insisted that the issue of women should not be sidelined or isolated but considered within the broader context of human dignity and fundamental equality — the idea that all baptized people share apostolic responsibility.
This perspective left its mark on key documents, including Lumen Gentium, which condemned gender-based discrimination, and Gaudium et Spes, which affirmed the equal dignity of men and women as persons.
Barbara Ward made a significant contribution to discussions about the Church’s engagement with the modern world, particularly by advocating for an honest response to global poverty and the development of the human person.
Others draw attention to the challenges women faced. They were not permitted to speak directly during Council sessions — their thoughts were sometimes voiced through male participants. When the opportunity arose for Pilar Bellosillo, president of the World Union of Catholic Women’s Organizations, to address the assembly, her request to speak was denied.
Still, there were other ways to contribute: writing draft documents, sharing ideas in the corridors, speaking during dinners, finding informal ways to influence outcomes.
One curious detail: women participants were given their separate coffee room, which they wryly nicknamed Bar Nun. The pun worked on two levels: “nun” as in religious sister, but also echoing bar none, meaning “without exception.” In this context, it took on a satirical tone — a bar for no one, or perhaps a bar where women had no voice.
Even this small act of separation revealed a greater truth: that the very presence of women — even silent — disrupted the traditional order and forced the Church to reconsider its protocols.
After the Council: Support, Resistance, and the Role of Women Today
Though references to women in the Council’s official documents were sparse, the real significance of their presence lay in the shift in methodology — an openness to dialogue and listening, which paved the way for a new awareness of every person’s dignity.
The Council was not about declaring new dogmas; it aimed to “open the windows” of the Church to a rapidly changing world.
In December 1965, in a message marking the end of the Council, Pope Paul VI wrote:
“The hour is coming — in fact, has come — when the vocation of woman is being achieved in its fullness; the hour in which woman acquires in the world an influence, an effect, and a power never hitherto achieved.”
And in January 1965, Monsignor Angelo Dell’Acqua officially acknowledged that the presence of female observers had not only been a meaningful experience but also a true contribution to the revision of the documents from the fourth session. Their influence is visible in Gaudium et Spes and beyond — not only where women are directly mentioned, but in the broader tone of respect for human dignity.
Among the clergy, some were genuinely supportive, while others were indifferent, and some were simply unsure how to relate to women in this new ecclesial context.
Women delegates included leaders from Egypt, the United States, and Latin America. They were not just “present” — they were the voice of their time.
Thanks to their witness, women and laypeople began entering theological faculties. In 1965, Maria Luisa Rigato became the first woman to audit classes at the Pontifical Biblical Institute. In 1970, Nella Filippi earned a doctorate in theology from the Angelicum in Rome.
Following the Council, the Church officially recognized the equal spiritual dignity of women and men. More and more women began to reflect on the nature of their vocation and to understand that they could fully realize the gifts they had received from God by serving others, both on the parish level and in leadership roles at the very heart of the Vatican.
Together with the laity, women are helping to shape a new space — one that is not only freer, but deeper. A space for a living Church.
Halyna Vasylytsia
