Like many who are hopeful for visible improvement to the status of women and L.G.B.T.Q. people in the Catholic Church, I have seen the Synod on Synodality as a mixed bag of anticipation, disappointment and a diligent search for God’s grace at work. I have nurtured a cautious optimism that my church might be ready to make more room for L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics to be their authentic selves, and to more fully honor women’s baptismal dignity by restoring the female diaconate. It is clear now that prayerfully embarking on this synodal journey with my church will often mean setting aside my desires for immediate large-scale change.
I am trying to take to heart Cardinal-designate Timothy Radcliffe’s words that this synod, and synodality itself, is not a means to enact measures but rather “evokes new ways of being a church in which we relate to each other much more profoundly in Christ, and to Christ much more profoundly with each other.” Synodality is supposed to keep all of us together and with Jesus; yet I am still left with questions as to exactly how much the members of my church really want to relate to Christ more profoundly with me and with our L.G.B.T.Q. brothers and sisters.
In December 2023, I joyfully shared the news of the publication of “Fiducia Supplicans” (which allows for the pastoral blessing of people in same-sex unions)with my 11th-grade religion students when I received a news alert in the middle of class. But since then, I have not heard much from the synod itself regarding the L.G.B.T.Q. community. I was dismayed by the statement by Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández, prefect of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, that “the issue of the female diaconate is not mature” and that synod-related study groups would not consider the possibility.
And I am outraged by Bishop Anthony Randazzo’s characterization of women’s ordination as an “obsession” among Catholics in the Global North that detracts from the plight of marginalized women in the Global South. Having spent time in Oceania (the region that falls under Bishop Randazzo’s pastoral leadership), I find it appalling that he cannot see how women’s marginalization in the church appears to lend religious approval to their marginalization in society at large.
When I read that neither the female diaconate nor L.G.B.T.Q. issues were on the agenda for the synod meeting in October, it occurred to me that fear of a globally fractured church is still a major impediment to even the discussion of these topics—and that, once again, women and L.G.B.T. Catholics would be asked to make a sacrifice of silence for the sake of unity.
Michael Sean Winters of National Catholic Reporter suggested this on an episode of the America podcast “Jesuitical.” Referring to women’s ordination and L.G.B.T.Q. issues, he said that “whatever your individual issue is,” it is not worth risking the unity of the church.
I can empathize with this point of view, both from Mr. Winters and from those participating in the synod, including Pope Francis himself. I served alongside Jesuits for two years in the Federated States of Micronesia, and the last thing I want is for the church to completely fracture along cultural lines or to become divided between the Global North and Global South. I have to come to terms with the fact that taking these subjects off the table for now may be the price of avoiding such a schism. But I cannot ignore that this price falls more heavily on women and L.G.B.T.Q. people.
We now have to ask whether the church is prepared to acknowledge the pain that this reality causes many members of the body of Christ. Whatever other doors the synod opens, women will still be asked to be a part of, and to minister in, a church which maintains that God does not see fit for us to image Christ on the altar. L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics will still be asked to be a part of, and to minister in, a church that refers a part of their capacity for love as “intrinsically disordered.” Having to continually ask, “What does my church believe about me?” and “Does it really believe that I am made in the image of God?” is a cross almost unique to women and to L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics.
The lack of action from the synod, followed by the re-election of a U.S. president who supports rolling back L.G.B.T.Q. legal protections and who insists that he will enact his visionof protecting women “whether the women like it or not,” has left many American Catholics reeling from the double gut punch of having to confront anew both what our church and our country really think of us.
If we are to be a synodal church, are all of us ready to hear and honestly reckon with the sacrifice being asked of women and L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics? Can our church even acknowledge the sacrifice it is asking of us? Can our parishes take our pain seriously without patronizingly trying to “re-catechize” us about what the church actually teaches, or pointing to the other roles available to us as though they should put an end to that pain?
In his ministry to L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics, the synod delegate James Martin, S.J., often says “God already loves you, your church is learning to love you.” I also pray that synodality may be the path by which my church learns to fully love both me and my L.G.B.T.Q. brothers and sisters, and that God grants me a long enough life to see that love realized.
[Related: “A ‘fourth order’ for women deacons in the Catholic Church? Reflecting on the possibility”]
