Synod on Synodality - A Postscript

Now the real work must begin!

Feb 12, 2025 - I seem to have come to the end of my Synod journey - at least for the time being. Maybe not the end, maybe (I hope) just a pause. For the past ten months I have been listening, learning and writing about the Synod on Synodality. An engaging, troublesome, hopeful, and frustrating task. Like a lot of life, I guess.

It was one year ago today - (c’mon, Holy Spirit, that can’t be a coincidence!) - that I began this undertaking. I was out in Austin, Texas, visiting my children and grandchildren for Valentine’s Day weekend. I had been retired for about a year and was thinking about doing some writing. At dinner that first evening, my son, daughter, and son-in-law listened to my ideas, sympathized with my frustrations, and poured me another glass of wine.

A couple of days later, my son-in-law Jim said, “You should start a Substack!” “What’s a Substack?” I replied. He sat down beside me on the couch, grabbed my laptop and with a few keystrokes, “Catholic on the Edge,” began. Here is what I wrote that first day - it’s still on the start page of my Substack:

Catholic on the Edge

Am I still Catholic? It’s complicated. There are some things about the Faith that fill me with joy and comfort and hope, and other things that make me want to weep with frustration. This Substack, Catholic on the Edge, is where I work out that tension.

My son-in-law looked up that initial post, wrote a comment and Catholic on the Edge existed! On Substack at least.

But that’s not where my Synod on Synodality journey began. That happened a few weeks later. When I came home from that Valentine’s Day weekend, I was still in a muddled mess. What did it mean to be a Catholic on the Edge? And what was I supposed to do with this new Substack?

In the following days and weeks, I sat in my Prayer Chair each morning, doing a lot of hand-wringing, praying and exhorting - not about the Substack, but about the Synod.

It was happening. In fact, it was almost over, and I had missed out. The second and final meeting of the Synod was coming up in just a few months, and so many Catholics I knew gave me blank looks when I brought up the topic.

I was frustrated. I was grieving. How could this worldwide effort to revitalize the Catholic Church be such a non-event in my parish, my diocese, my part of the Church? I couldn’t understand it and I couldn't seem to let it go.

That’s where it may have all ended . . . if I hadn't been going to a Lenten program on Listening to God; if I hadn't gone to lunch and had the sympathetic ear of another Catholic friend to encourage me; if I hadn’t had the chance to finally, finally, go a “Conversation in the Spirit” synod meeting at that parish in North Reading and experience synodality for myself.

You see how the Holy Spirit works! Honestly, you can’t make these things up!

That meeting was the final nudge I needed to start this project. It was such a profound experience that I called it “my existential synodal experience” and wrote two Substack episodes about it.

My existential (synodal) crisis, part 1

My existential (synodal) crisis, part 2

So where does that leave me now?

I’m back in my Prayer Chair. Yes, doing some more hand-wringing, praying, and exhorting, and waiting for you, Holy Spirit, to weigh in. What’s next for me?

I hope I have a next chapter with the Synod on Synodality. I hope everything I’ve learned and written about has been for a purpose. I’ve listened, I’ve learned, and through that I’ve felt a tremendous sense of hope. But now the real work begins.

In an ideal world, in an ideal church, I would be one of many who would spread out to parishes to speak about the Synod and its place in the next chapter of the church. I’d start with making a presentation to the Pastoral Council. All parishes should have one, as you know from reading my recent post on “Conversion of Processes.”

From there, a Pastoral Council could hold some Conversations in the Spirit, encouraging parishioners to come in and share their hopes and dreams for the Church, their joys and their sorrows.

Finally, in doing so, I would hope that they come to understand that they are not alone; that they have gifts to offer and places where those gifts are not just needed, not just welcomed, but absolutely vital to the future of our church.

Holy Spirit, I’m still here. Ready to help. “Way will open,” my sister always tells me. “Way will open.” Holy Spirit, it’s over to you now. AMEN