The October Synod and the Death of A Catholic Church
October 2024: The Definitive End of the Conciliar Era
In the historical world, there is endless debate over the question of when the Roman Empire “fell” in the West. A variety of dates are given, some more sound than others. I follow historian Patrick Wyman in saying the real end was August of 472. What happened in August of 472? The barbarian general Gundobad was offered the chance to be the real master (what was left) of the Roman Empire, governing the Italian peninsula. Instead, he chose to become King of a small barbarian tribe bordering the peninsula. Sure, there were Emperors after this (in name only) but the credibility of the Roman Empire by this point was so worthless becoming a relatively obscure barbarian king bestowed more prestige.
Now you may be thinking this and say “so this is why it’s taken Kevin so long to write anything".” The ideas really aren’t there, but I thought of that story this morning when I received a fundraising email from America Magazine, asking people to subscribe to their magazine ahead of coverage of the October Synod. A pretty standard practice, but the sales pitch drove something home:
We have finally arrived at a historic event in the life of the church three years in the making: the second and final session of the Synod on Synodality. Millions of Catholics from every corner of the globe have made their voices heard. Now, 368 delegates—cardinals and bishops, priests and lay people—are gathering at the Vatican to advise Pope Francis on how we can create a more inclusive, missionary church.
This year, America is continuing and expanding our on-the-ground coverage of the synod to keep you informed of events in Rome. To mark this moment’s importance, we’re offering subscriptions for only $1 for your first month so you can follow along.
We are allegedly upon one of the most historic times in the Church: a culmination of years (maybe decades) of work, where millions of Catholics made their voices heard. We are going to spend a month of continuous debate by the best and brightest: 368 people out of more than a billion members. What is this event of monumental importance worth? Well, if we had to put a price on it… one dollar. The fundraising pitch (I’m sorry “subscription drive”), in an attempt to show how important it is, gives away the whole game: it doesn’t matter.
Why it doesn’t matter is an interesting story. For the last decade, there’s been a lot of factional infighting in the Catholic Church during the Francis pontificate. Francis has attempted to bypass that factional infighting by the use of Synods. Since the close of the Second Vatican Council, synods have served (in the West at least) as a consultative body for the pope, who give him a variety of insights on a particular issue he wants. Francis sought to transform the Synod into an ecclesiastical plebiscite: a small group voting as a rubber stamp on his vision of reform for the Church. Far from bypassing these factional disputes, the Synods became one front in them, and a particularly ineffectual front at that. The Synod on the Family introduced a bitter floor fight over a proposal that would change Church discipline regarding divorce. It proved so divisive that the Pope was only able to get his way by inserting a footnote into the text the Bishops presented to him. A footnote most people then ignored just to do what they wanted anyway. Future synods never recaptured the magic, and after the Amazon Synod failed to do away with clerical celibacy (thanks to a timely intervention by Cardinal Robert Sarah and Benedict XVI), a fracture developed between Francis and his allies pushing for a progressive reform agenda in the Church.
No longer trusting the Pope or viewing him an honest broker for their cause, they planned to use future synods to just advocate for changes in Church teaching on morality and sexuality. Yet Francis couldn’t abandon the plebiscite formula. Nor could he just invite more conservative bishops to the synod, who had grown increasingly hostile to Francis and would be even less reliable. At this point Francis decided on what he must have thought was a stroke of political genius: he’d keep the leftward tilt of the Synod, but remove from discussion all of their reform items they wanted to be discussed. Now nothing matters. Most conservatives are still locked out of the synodal process. The ones that are there (mostly from Africa) have seen their stock rise considerably in 2024. They made Pope Francis bow to their will, abandoning his own text that blessed gay unions. They also would have used the Synod to make the global Church bow to them if it became a culture war flashpoint. They have won the battle over the Synod before it even began. They are there, but they also don’t trust Francis or the body. The progressives are furious at the Pope for removing every topic from discussion that they championed. The Pope is fuming because his allies have abandoned him, and the Synod is left to discuss, well, nobody knows. This will result in an eventual apostolic exhortation that nobody will read, and even fewer will implement. We’ve come a long way from “the culmination of the Second Vatican Council” to a discussion about nothing, leading to a document about nothing, to be read by nobody.
That aura of nothingness is a good way to look at the entire pontificate of Francis in its twilight. He’s still alive, but not very energetic. He can travel, and people still show up to a party, but nobody really cares after. Everyone just goes on with their life, Francis’ interventions in it changing nothing. This is a man whose story is written, and not much else is expected before the book closes. To the extent something else is written, it won’t be by him. It will be by those factional participants who are past the post-conciliar era.
The Catholic Church cannot die, but individuals within her most certainly do. So do eras and ages and ways of looking at things within the Church. What comes afterwards is always influenced by the current era, but it is not bound by it, especially when the narrative of the current era is the quest to liberate the Church from such restrictions. Like any monarchy, the Catholic Church has always had a taboo against the reigning monarch undoing too much of his predecessor, lest your successor give you the same treatment, and the monarchy as a whole become another object to be captured by partisans. To the extent Francis matters, it is because of his attempts to undo Benedict XVI (and John Paul II)’s legacy.
I also think about this aura of nothingness when we hear about news that the Vatican has ordered an apostolic visitation of the largest traditionalist order: The Fraternity of St. Peter. Sure, those conducting the visitation have already written their final report, yet have to go through the motions, hoping the Pope will take their suggestions for a final crackdown upon traditionalists. That takes time, and assumes that Francis will have the energy to adopt its suggestions, even if he has the inclination. That inclination was there in Traditionis custodes, and then waned. During that time an elderly pope could die, and then the visitation could take on an entirely new character, if anything even happens with it. In the event something of consequence happened, it would have to be carried out by a successor whose heart likely just isn’t in it. There was a hierarchy in the Church for a time that was dedicated to these endeavors. That church is dead. The gates of hell have not prevailed, but those entrusted to govern her have clearly lost the plot. You can barely give away coverage of her for a dollar.
Debates about the legacy of Francis and of the synod will continue, but one thing is clear: no matter how long they go on, the energy lies elsewhere.
I think that until the 19th century the average lay Catholic probably had little notion who the current pope was, and the modern notion of hanging over their pronouncements, opinions, synods and papers is likely a post-war phenomenon.
As an institution, the papacy evolved when there was already a filter of time, distance and common sense on any pronouncement. Much of what's current will turn out to be ephemeral, and the leadership are transient. The counterweight that the millions of ordinary Catholics provide will save some things, as will the fact that our world's current beliefs are largely anti-Christian and incapable of enduring.
In essence, be less well informed of news and change and stay in the well ploughed furrow which stretches back generations.
Anything that happens in Rome is just white noise. There was a time when Catholics, even non-Catholics took an interest in what popes said and did. Now, we have a figurehead, rather like the Holy Roman Emperor was still there a thousand years after the end of the Roman Empire. On the other hand, papal 'prestige' is only a recent phenomenon from Pius lX and the loss of the papal states. The popes had to find other ways to become more relevant. If you went back to the most centuries, your average Catholic woudl pray for the pope in the Canon but would have no idea what Clement or Julius had said or thought about anything. And yet we had saints and heroes, and maybe will have them again. So maybe we should thank Pope Francis for this after all?