Four years ago, Bishop Mitchell Rozanski, then the head of the Catholic Diocese of Springfield, held a “listening session” in Northampton, inviting those who had been impacted by the clergy sexual abuse crisis to come forward and be heard.
The first in the long line waiting to speak that afternoon was a woman whose son had been repeatedly abused by priests. This young man, whose experience left him deeply confused about his sexuality, chose to take his own life. My fondest hope, his mother told the bishop, is that the Catholic Church as we know it be burned to its foundations, and something new grow in its place.
In the subsequent four years, anyone who has paid the least bit of attention to the church knows that nothing remotely like that has happened. While better protocols have been put in place for reporting abuse, the church doesn’t seem to have done a great deal of soul searching, much less public apologizing for the wave of abuse. Nor has the church seemed to have moved very far in its treatment of LGBTQ+ parishioners, or in addressing the historically subjugated position of women.
Locally, there’s been much bitterness over the dishonest way decisions were made in consolidating churches in Northampton. For those of us who continue, in spite of all this, to take Catholicism seriously, the one ray of hope has been the ascension of a pope who has represented a greater openness to new ideas, a willingness to question outdated church teachings, one who has adopted a “Who am I to judge?” response to questions of sexuality and divorce that have led so many to feeling unwelcome, and judged.
The most recent manifestation of such hope lies in Pope Francis’ calling of a worldwide synod, to take place over the next two years. The word “synod,” derived from the Latin, means “walking together.”
All over the world, Catholics (practicing, on the fence, and disaffected), will come together in small groups. Participants will be asked to respond to two questions: What would you like to tell the local bishop? (For western Massachusetts, this would be Bishop William Byrne.) What would you like to tell Pope Francis?
A facilitator will invite each participant to speak, uninterrupted, for a couple of minutes, while everyone else listens. A scribe will create a written record of the main ideas and issues, without identifying any speaker by name, to send to the local bishop, who will send a summary of all those records to the pope.
It is unfortunate that this will probably come as news to most people. Those who attend weekly Mass will have received word, but others who may have an interest most likely have heard nothing at all. Which is why a group of us, local practicing Catholics, have taken it upon ourselves to become ambassadors in the synod process, and to reach out to those who may have something to say about any issue regarding Catholicism, but who feel they have not been given an invitation to say it.
For the past four years, our group has been meeting — in-person before COVID, and by Zoom afterward — on a regular basis to discuss how we might make our churches more welcoming to the LGBTQ+ community. We are a group composed of all ages, from octogenarians to high school students, and our discussions have centered around an increasingly influential book called “Building a Bridge,” by the Jesuit James Martin, about how the Catholic Church and the LGBTQ+ community might find commonality.
Our hope has always been that we find a way to reach out to the broader community, to hear about how the church has slighted or offended or made this community feel unwelcome, and what it needs to do to change. The synod seems then a perfect opportunity to speak.
To its credit, the group in charge of the synod have given us wide latitude to reach out beyond the confines of our local churches. Though many listening sessions will take place in church over the next two months, after masses, we’ve been encouraged to hold sessions in smaller groups, over coffee, in neutral settings where people might feel more comfortable.
To that end, we have set up an email address (northamptonsynod@gmail.com) and invite anyone who would like to be heard to contact us, with the understanding that this is not about proselytizing or evangelizing. This is about listening, and reporting, with the agreement that everything reported, whether in person or by email, will be anonymous. Individuals, and groups that might like us to visit, are invited to respond. For those who would prefer to speak within a church setting, information can be found at the website of the Diocese of Springfield.
There is every reason to be cynical about this process, and we understand that. Why should the church change, after showing so much historical resistance to change? And given the church’s size, and the fact that it is a worldwide organization, it can’t be expected to turn on a dime.
But there is also reason for hope. To his credit, the pope has spoken of his desire to “reach out to the margins until there are no more margins.” And our own hope lies in the words of a now-retired gay, celibate priest who spoke of his decades “walking a tightrope,” not being able to declare his truth to his colleagues, or to the church itself. “The church is changing,” he said. “Just very, very slowly.”
If nothing else, the synod represents an opportunity to speak truth to power, and perhaps to nudge that very slow change an inch or two forward.
Tony Giardina, Mary Murphy, Theresa Carter, Jim Seney and Lorraine Mangione are members of the Building a Bridge Project, a group working on Catholic outreach to the LGBTQ+ community.