enough humility. There is too much righteous indignation and not enough curiosity. There is too much reactivity and not enough spacious generosity. Shortly after I returned from Rome, a dear friend who is a Jewish faith leader lamented that discourse around the current violence in the Holy Land lacks nuance and minimizes the incredible complexity of the conflict. As I listened to her fear, hurt, and frustration, my heart was moved. I thought of the photos of hundreds of delegates from around the globe seated at round tables sharing spiritual conversations. I thought of the conversations our team facilitated among university students and shared among ourselves. These conversations create the kind of space for which my friend was longing. They strengthen our muscles for relationships across differences. We are in desperate need of the countercultural example of synodality that is “salt and light” (Matt. 5:13–16) to a fractured world. Synodal practices, modeled by delegates sharing in spiritual conversation in the synod hall and in listening sessions throughout the world, encourage mutual listening and making room for the other.
In the words of a letter from the delegates released at the close of the assembly, “the Church’s vocation is to proclaim the Gospel not by focusing on itself, but by placing itself at the service of the infinite love with which God loved the world.” This echoes the vision of Gaudium et Spes (The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World) that the church is to be leaven. Pope Francis has called for Christians to be “artisans of peace.” This call is intrinsically related to Pope Francis’ challenge to become a listening church and embrace “this path of synodality which God expects of the Church of the third millennium,” to not only have a synod but to “be a synod.” As the people of God walk the synodal path, we are salt, light, and leaven for a world in need. Rhonda Miska is a preacher, teacher, writer, lay ecclesial minister, and spiritual director currently serving in the Archdiocese of St. Paul-Minneapolis. She is a graduate of the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry, is active in Discerning Deacons, and writes regularly for print and digital Catholic publications.
“Why was I chosen to observe such a monumental moment of church history? How can I share this gift with others?”
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A Culture of Encounter BY MOLLIE CLARK
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or me, synodality at its core is about encounter. Sharing my story is only effective if, in doing so, I invite the person with whom I am speaking to do the same. This experience of encounter has manifested itself in a multitude of ways. Last October, I had the immense privilege of taking a pilgrimage to Rome to bear witness to the first part of the Universal Stage of the Synod on Synodality as part of a class devoted to the study of the synodal process and its place in our church today. In the weeks leading up to our departure, I was consumed by doubt. In prayer, I frequently asked God: “Why was I chosen to observe such a monumental moment of church history? How can I share this gift with others?” However, my time in Rome proved to be transformational. 4
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My class had the opportunity to spend time with people who authentically embody synodality. This included voting synod delegates, members of Sant’Egidio, a volunteer organization that serves those on the margins, and representatives from Discerning Deacons and IPJC, who spent their time educating students about the application of synodality in the real world. Each interaction was imbued with the Holy Spirit, and every person imparted their own wisdom. During our time with Discerning Deacons, we participated in a Conversation in the Spirit, voting members’ primary method of discernment. This experience enabled me to immerse myself in the deep, prayerful listening and discernment that are pillars of a church whose members truly journey together. In that moment, synodality became tangible to me. I finally had