During the past two Octobers, I spent my days speaking with many people who disagreed with me. I’m referring, of course, to the Synod on Synodality, the final session of which just concluded. While all the roughly 350 delegates agreed on the basics of our faith (we all recited the Creed together during Mass), and while many of us agreed on other important elements of the faith (on issues like the role of episcopal conferences, women’s roles in leadership and L.G.B.T.Q. outreach), I spent long periods with people who disagreed strongly with certain beliefs I hold.
Here’s one example: I sat with a few bishops who are members of episcopal conferences that had supported laws that said L.G.B.T.Q. people should be jailed. Another delegate at one of my tables had said publicly that L.G.B.T.Q. issues were simply an “ideology.” That is, I sat with people whose views I found reprehensible; and they sat with me, a person whose views they found reprehensible.
The delegates’ disagreement on whether the diaconate should be open to women, to take another example, has been well documented. The paragraph about women in our final document received the highest number of “no” votes from the delegates: 97 out of roughly 350 votes. But we disagreed on less controversial issues as well: whether diocesan parish synods should be mandatory, whether new ministries should be “instituted” or just “recommended,” and so on.
In short, while we agreed on the essentials, there was frequent disagreement on other church matters. Nonetheless, my fellow delegates and I were able to speak civilly to one another, worship together, chat over coffee and pastries at the breaks, and laugh and even tease one another at our tables. How was this possible? A powerful idea with a boring name: synodality. Specifically, we delegates were influenced by the way that the synod invited us to listen to one another.
In the aftermath of the most contentious U.S. presidential campaign in many of our lifetimes, many Americans have friends on either side of the increasingly hardened political divide in our country. Some are elated and others are devastated; some feel justified, others are terrified.
My experience at the synod has prompted me to consider how the lessons I learned there might extend to our polarized nation. The methods of discussion that we used at the synod may not be possible in every political or even conversational setting, but I can attest to the fact that many of the tools we used truly made a difference.
Last year, we delegates came together as a rather disparate group of Catholics from all corners of the globe (at one table I sat in between a delegate from Tanzania and one from Fiji) and with widely differing points of view on a great many topics, many of them quite incendiary. This year, with the same delegates coming from the same far-flung places, we ended the synod with a great deal of joy, friendship and camaraderie.
So let me share a few “synodal” tips to help address our polarized country.
Pray. Always. We began each week with a Mass, usually in St. Peter’s Basilica (which prompted one cardinal to say jokingly to me, “Do you think this is grand enough?”). Prayer reminded us that the Holy Spirit was not only with us, but would help us and wanted us to be united. Again, there were some things we weren’t united on, but we wanted to draw as close together as possible. In the social sphere, even when we are speaking to people with different faiths or no faith tradition, prayer can change us and prepare us to listen. Especially in family settings, the reminder that the Holy Spirit is present, even in difficult conversations, can give us an internal peace that influences how we speak to one another.
Listen. The most basic approach was to listen to everyone. Now, whether you’re a devastated Democrat or a rejoicing Republican, this will be hard—as it occasionally was at the synod. It is easy to underestimate how important this was and is. We all think we listen to people on the “other side of the aisle” (a political image but also an ecclesial one), but many times we don’t. We’re so intent on catching someone out in a fallacy, or preparing our rebuttal, that we don’t truly hear what the other person is saying or what is influencing their opinion. We may still disagree, but when we truly listen at least we can understand the person better. One of the benefits of the method of discussion used at the synod was that facilitators prevented people from interrupting. This may be impossible in a family or even a work setting, but it might help as a general guideline when discussing challenging topics. Listen, don’t interrupt.
The fundamental insight of the synod was not only that this type of listening was helpful in decision making, but also that the Holy Spirit was at work in everyone, not simply in cardinals and bishops. Everyone had the chance to have their say. Everyone was worth listening to.
Identify areas of convergence. Even if you have a major disagreement with someone—Donald Trump is America’s Messiah versus Donald Trump is America’s Hitler—you might be able to find convergence on another issue. For example, the belief that the economy isn’t working well for many in the middle class. Or: We need to be a welcoming country for immigrants but need fair rules for entry. During the synod, it helped to be honest on areas where we diverged—and we had lots of divergences.
We also didn’t speak only about the “tough topics.” One of the best parts of the synod was that spending time with one another reminded us that each person was more than a conglomeration of issue positions. We were full human beings—all Catholics in this case—with a wide variety of interests, experiences and perspectives. Especially during the second session, we mainly talked about the church overall, not just the so-called “hot button” topics.
In hearing people speak about their parishes, their families, their religious communities; how much they loved their ministries and those with whom they ministered; or perhaps their favorite Gospel passage or saint, we came to know each other on a deeper level. And in coming to know someone you are better able to dialogue with them. As Cardinal-elect Timothy Radcliffe reminded us at the synod, quoting my new favorite saying from St. John Paul II: “Affective collegiality precedes effective collegiality.”
I won’t pretend that the polarization in our society and in our church is not severe. Sometimes it even gets violent, as in the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. And sometimes people have beliefs that need to be not only challenged but rejected outright: racism, misogyny, homophobia. But even in these difficult cases, some of the tools of synodality, especially its emphasis on listening and its underlying thesis that the Holy Spirit is active in everyone, can help us to draw together. This allows us to reject prejudice without rejecting the person who holds such beliefs, instead trying to change their heart.
I know it sounds hard, and often it is. But at the Synod on Synodality, among some of the most diverse groups you could imagine, I’ve seen it work. And it’s surely worth it.
