Ah, yes—synodality. The new buzzword that's been summoned to bridge centuries of doctrine with today’s dizzying currents of cultural appeasement. The idea, as pitched, is that we are now walking “in communion with Christ toward the Kingdom,” but without the "rigid" pathways of, say, the Nicene Creed or those troublesome catechisms that used to keep people honest. Gone are the days when the Church spoke clearly and courageously on matters of salvation and sanctity. Now, we’ve entered an era of “reciprocal listening” and “community discernment,” where every perspective is crowned with equal authority, provided it includes the latest catchphrases like "inclusivity," "co-responsibility," and, heaven forbid, "accompaniment."
The mystique of synodality is only as deep as it is dizzyingly opaque. They tell us it’s a “constitutive dimension of the Church,” that it’ll make us all less “bureaucratic” and more “familial.” The solution, of course, is to create more committees, councils, focus groups, and strategies that will supposedly tear down barriers between clergy and laity. What we end up with is the Church of the Eternal Roundtable—a vision where every decision is the product of endless "consultation," each document painstakingly crafted to please, offend, or declare nothing at all. And in this warm-and-fuzzy family reunion, the Orthodox Catholic sees the outline of an exhausting extended family gathering, where everyone feels entitled to an opinion, nobody actually listens, and someone is always trying to sneak in the world’s latest seasoning to an ancient recipe.
This new, improved synodal Church, we’re told, will not be complete without the “renewed reciprocity” between men and women. Our cultural overseers have decided that the Church has been simply remiss in neglecting to give women a bigger seat at the table. St. Teresa of Ávila, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Hildegard—these giants, who shook nations and faced off with emperors and popes, are apparently overlooked exemplars of “feminine leadership.” Did no one tell them that their sanctity and courage were somehow insufficient without a proper chair on the diocesan council? It seems that unless a soul has a vote in committee or a voice in the strategy session, her contribution to the Church doesn’t truly count.
Thus, with these bold reforms in hand, we embark toward the “renewed” Church—one eager to proclaim a faith that's finally progressive enough for 21st-century approval. Its creed? “Dialogue.” Its liturgy? The Eucharistic assembly, plus a round of post-Mass committee updates. This model of Church, we’re told, is “inclusive,” a Church that frowns on outdated notions like “truth” in favor of “consensus,” where doctrines stand ready for rebranding at the slightest hint of cultural discomfort. The sword of truth has been traded for the butter knife of concession. As we bask in the harmony of eternal dialogue, the question looms: Will this synodal Church hold the line against heresy, remain steadfast in Christ’s teachings, or wander off into a hazy wilderness of trying to please everyone and offend no one?
And so, the 'Great Synodal Journey" Marches on. What exactly does that mean and what happens now? The Church continues its synodal “journey,” leaving those who prefer “the old paths” scratching their heads at the sudden urge to replace timeless tradition with the latest buzzwords. The true path—where one is called to pick up his cross, walk in communion with the saints, and hold fast to unchanging truth—is now pushed aside in favor of something less, shall we say, disruptive to modern sensibilities. Those who choose the ancient way can only watch the “synodal Church” trudge forward, hopeful that somewhere down this road of endless dialogue, there’s still a place for the faith that saints and martyrs held dear.
For now, we stand here, clutching the cross, while the synod rolls on toward its nebulous horizon, with no shortage of vision statements and strategy sessions in tow. We may be heading somewhere—though whether it’s toward the Kingdom or merely toward cultural irrelevance is anyone’s guess. But one thing is certain: the synodal journey will have plenty of company, even if it finds itself in desperate need of a compass.