Ah, what a spectacle of reform—a spectacle, mind you, not unlike rearranging the furniture on a sinking ship while the waters rise. Pope Francis, in his latest magnum opus, has dispensed with the cumbersome apostolic exhortation. Why offer a document that might add a dash of doctrinal coherence when you can instead embrace the spirit of synodality with immediate implementation? Why? Because, we are told, the Holy Spirit breathes only in the thick of “consultative processes” and “expanded lay participation,” as if the Church had been gagged and bound to rigid hierarchies and tradition for two millennia, simply waiting for this modern age of enlightened bureaucracy.
What, then, do these grand proposals herald? We have, in true Chestertonian irony, a call for “spiritual, relational, procedural, institutional, and missionary” conversion—five varieties of change, each more nebulous than the last. It’s a list that might impress a corporate consultant or a zealous human resources manager, but one wonders if the Apostle Paul would recognize the checklist approach to sanctity.
Take, for instance, the proposed expansion of “women’s leadership roles.” Here, the language coyly avoids the word “ordination,” as if to say, “Not now, but perhaps, dear readers, very soon!” After all, why should the historic Catholic priesthood—a role defined by Christ Himself—be any different from a civic organization where “greater inclusivity” is the ultimate good? And thus, the Church will apparently march forward, trying to mimic the egalitarian aims of secular society, as if sanctity were best achieved through gender quotas and democratic assemblies.
As for lay participation, we’re now invited to consider the faithful as auxiliary bishops—without mitres, of course, but ready to advise, suggest, and "synodally" deliberate until the truly orthodox voice has been softened to a barely discernible whisper. Does the Church now aspire to be a democracy, where truth is voted upon, and revelation adjusts its shape with the shifting tides of public opinion?
And then, behold the novelty: synodal authority. In the delicate phrasing of the document, we are assured that “inviolable” episcopal authority still stands—though with “limits,” of course, lest any shepherd start feeling too sheepish about holding to the faith of the Fathers. Canon law must evolve to clarify “consultation and deliberation,” leaving one to wonder when the faith will be left not only clarified but diluted.
In a final act of reassurance, we are promised accountability and transparency, “healing, reconciliation, and rebuilding of trust.” The Church, it seems, is to enter a new phase of public relations, where spiritual truths and supernatural mission take a back seat to structural overhauls. Our ancestors bore witness to the faith through blood and persecution, yet here we are, as Chesterton warned, watching the timeless creed rebranded by its enemies—and worse, by its own confused stewards.
In this bold “reformation,” we see not the vibrancy of an organic faith but the whirring of bureaucratic machinery. Herein lies the genius of the “Synod on Synodality”: while promising renewal, it may very well hollow out what it aims to serve, replacing the living Body of Christ with a pale bureaucratic simulacrum—a modern Ape of the Church, indeed.