The Synod: Rome Experience 2024

Many people have asked about my experience of the Synod on Synodality, which I see as having two dimensions. First is the outer experience: meeting the Pope, a month in Rome, the food, the liturgies, the people, the discussions, the atmosphere, and the community where I lived. These are all notable but touch on surface fascination.

Here, however, I want to explore the inner experience—the subtle and not-so-subtle movements of the heart that made the Synod so positive for me. I invite you to reflect with me on the deeper dimensions of synodality and what it means to be a synodal Church, with its demands on leaders.

The Synod as an experience of prayer

This Synod on Synodality differed markedly from previous synods. Traditionally, participants sat according to rank, but this time, we sat at mixed tables alongside cardinals, laypeople, religious, bishops, and fraternal delegates.

While past synods included prayer, this one was conceived as a prayer. It began with a retreat and ended with a day of reflection as we received the final draft document.

Moments of prayer were interwoven into the programme, with Masses marking each stage, a penitential service at the start, daily morning and afternoon prayers, and pauses after every few speakers. This month-long contemplative exercise required deep awareness and presence.

The opening retreat, led by Sr Maria Grazia Angelini OSB, and Fr Timothy Radcliffe OP (now cardinal-elect), was powerful.

One insight from Fr Timothy struck me deeply: it was only through love that St Mary Magdalene, St Peter, and the Beloved Disciple recognised the risen Christ. Even if Jesus had jumped up and down before Pilate, Pilate would not have recognised Him—only the eyes of love can see the risen Lord. This realisation was pivotal for me throughout the Synod.

The disciple’s first task is to recognise the risen Christ. For each delegate, this meant discerning His presence in the Synod’s movements. This can only happen through a gaze of love—for the Lord and His people. Such a gaze transformed the Synod from a parliamentary setting into a discerning community.

It opened my heart to a new way of being present in the Synod Hall, where prayer turned our gaze inward, helping us find the risen Christ in our work and deliberations.

The doldrums

On the first day of the Synod assembly, I felt excited and ready to begin. My table group was diverse in age, region, and vocation, with both men and women. Our facilitator, an Englishwoman, seemed to know her role well. I was prepared. But for the first two weeks, I felt no stirrings. I remained attentive, but no inner movements were guiding me as I interpreted the text or considered my interventions.

Each delegate prepared two three-minute interventions for each of the four structured conversations. The first addressed what we valued in the chapter; the second focused on areas needing improvement.

We spoke in turn for the first and second rounds, and in the third, we shared any interior movements we felt while listening to others. Finally, we synthesised our experiences.

This tedious but engaging work required us to listen with “the ear of the heart” at every stage. We had to listen to others and our inner movements. We had to sense where the risen Christ might appear among us.

Yet, for the first two weeks, I felt no movement. I stayed attentive and dedicated but did not know where Christ was leading. I was there, present, telling Jesus I was available for anything. But, inside, there was no movement, no clear prompting from the Holy Spirit.

On the way

The third module began much like the first two. I read and reread the chapter, praying over it, analysing it with my friend ChatGPT, and reflecting on key ideas. Then, I wrote my two interventions. Two weeks had passed. I was turning up, staying focused, and doing my best. I felt neither consolation nor desolation—only a sense of being present.

We had a 14-minute walk to the Synod Hall. One morning, on the way there, after preparing as best I could, a simple idea emerged in my consciousness. It came from nowhere but felt clear, distinct, and compelling. I felt a deep sense of God’s presence and an urgency around this idea. I can’t share specifics due to our pledge of confidentiality, but I want to communicate the experience itself.

When I arrived at the hall, I checked if this idea was in the text, and it was not. I reflected for a short time. Then, during our first round, I set aside my text and shared the idea with my group. I returned to it in the second round and explained how this idea could strengthen the text. Then I waited.

In the third round, a few participants said the idea resonated with them. As the group’s secretary, I understood that it would not be included in the final synthesis of that chapter if no one else found it meaningful.

The discernment

In a discernment process, what matters is not what I want to say. Rather, it is what is received by the group—the “minor circle,” as it’s called. I bring forward what God has given me to share and then leave it for others to discern. At that moment, I must embrace God’s will and hold a “holy indifference” towards my contribution.

The 16 English tables synthesised their reports into two documents. The idea wasn’t in any synthesis of the English tables read the following morning.

I was in a quandary: Should I leave the idea alone or bring it to the whole assembly in a free intervention? When the opportunity arose, I felt compelled to speak and made the request.

My name was first on the list, and before I knew it, I was addressing the Holy Father and all 355 delegates. The intervention was well received. During the break, many people were moved to affirm its necessity.

In the final week, we returned to our original tables and received the draft final text, the result of our three weeks of work. After prayer and recollection, we read the text alone: the idea was not included.

I felt let down. The text was good, and the drafters did a lot to reflect the quality of our conversations. But the process of discernment was still ongoing. Those at my table said I should bring it up if possible.

When another opportunity for free intervention arose, I requested one again and waited. Again, I was first. I shared three points I felt moved to speak on. My minor circle was very supportive of the intervention.

During the break, many said it must be in the final document, and they would bring it back to their table. I listened without interfering or persuading. This is a discernment community, not a parliamentary chamber. I prayed for holy indifference to the outcome.

Each table could offer corrections to the text. Our group firmly believed we should include these points. Each delegate could submit individual amendment requests, which I did, again entrusting them to God. There were over 1100 points for correction from tables and individuals.

In the end, it was the discernment of the entire Synod assembly that my points should be included in the final document.

Key Message:

As we strive to become a discerning Church, we must know the rules of discernment. I speak when prompted, then leave the community to discern. If I am moved again, I may speak up, but I trust the community to decide.

Action Step:

Become conscious of how you manage your opinions in conversations. Seek docility of spirit.

Scripture Reading:

Philippians 1:9–10