The Sunday after her confirmation, when young people raised Catholic are supposed to embrace their faith for themselves, Ellie Hidalgo’s niece begged her parents to not make her go to church.
“She said, ‘I just don’t think this Church is set up for somebody like me,’” Hidalgo recalled in a recent interview. “‘I don’t think God would speak to me only through the voice of a priest.’”
The young woman’s elders, said Hidalgo, were shocked to realise that despite their own deep Catholic faith, the religion had failed to pass to the new generation, and particularly that, like many young Catholic women, Hildalgo’s niece felt the Church had inhibited her from truly experiencing her faith.
Discerning Deacons
Her niece’s experience is the kind of story that drove Hidalgo to co-found Discerning Deacons, an organisation that argues for the ordination of women deacons.
The group launched in 2021, spurred in part by the 2019 Synod for the Pan Amazon Region, a meeting in Rome that highlighted the dire need in South America’s remotest regions for more contact with clergy.
Deacons can preach at Mass, baptise children and marry couples, though they cannot say Mass, hear confession or anoint the sick.
But Hidalgo’s 12 years spent helping with pastoral duties at a Jesuit church in the Latin American immigrant community of Boyle Heights, California, suggested that giving women the responsibilities of the diaconate would also hold out a promise of empowerment and stanch an outflow of women that has become more pronounced in recent years.
A study released in April by the Survey Center on American Life found that women, especially Gen Z women, are now leaving religion at a more rapid rate than men. The same poll found that 65 percent of young women said they don’t believe religious institutions treat women and men equally.
The effect seems to be hitting Catholics even harder.
In 2018, a survey of more than 1,500 Catholic women by America Magazine found that only 24 percent attend Mass at least once a week — a lower share than the 27 percent of women of all faiths who attend, as is often cited in a recent study by political scientist Ryan Burge.
Consultation
Pope Francis has opened new opportunities for women to be heard, but compared to the gains made by women elsewhere, the Church’s attempts at equality seem feeble.
At the Pan-Amazonian Synod in 2019, bishops voted by a staggering 137-30 tally in favor of female deacons, but the proposal was shelved for further study.
In 2021, Francis invited the Catholic faithful in parishes around the world to gather and speak about their hopes, fears and concerns for the future of the Church.
The massive, three-year consultation, given the underwhelming name of Synod on the theme of Synodality, rattled the hierarchy by showing they had questions about priestly celibacy, welcoming of LGBTQ+ Catholics and even monogamy.
No issue, however, was more urgent to rank-and-file Catholics than the lot of women. The quest to ordain women as deacons, long swept under the rug, reemerged with a newfound energy.
“The Synod process was asking: what’s in your heart? What do you think the Holy Spirit is asking of you?” Hidalgo said. “Suddenly, all these women started saying: ‘Oh, if I could discern a call to the diaconate, I would love to do that.’”
After forming Discerning Deacons, which has taught hundreds of women how to lead conversations on the female diaconate in their parishes and on college campuses, Hidalgo said its organisers were convinced that “a growing number of young women are quite discouraged by the limits they see in the Church.”
As bishops convened in pre-meetings for the synod, the question of female participation came up again and again.
European Catholics reported “a tension” between a changing society and the Church “practicing a second-class status of women.”
In Oceania, “the role and place of women in the Church was a uniform concern,” and Latin American and Caribbean bishops asked that attendees of the upcoming summit at the Vatican address the question of “the opening of some ministries to women,” according to reports from the bishops’ meetings.
The Maronite Church, a Middle Eastern rite in communion with Rome, held its own Synod on Women in 2022, after its bishops suggested that the Church “should begin to reflect seriously on the re-establishment of the diaconate for women,” which an earlier pope had allowed the Maronites in 1746.
But in March 2024, Francis put on the brakes.
Canceling discussion of women in the diaconate at October’s second meeting of the synod, Francis instead created a study group to tackle this and other controversial topics, charging them with reporting back in 2025.
The report on the female diaconate would be submitted to the Vatican’s Department for the Doctrine of the Faith, a notoriously secretive and historically conservative office.
“The support for women’s recognition is getting stronger and stronger.
“I don’t know how the leadership inside the Vatican think that they can make it disappear by closing the doors, closing the curtains, and having a secretive study,” said Miriam Duignan, executive director of the Wijngaards Institute for Catholic Research and a leader of Women’s Ordination Worldwide, an umbrella organisation.
The case for women
Duignan will be among dozens of Catholic women making the case for women deacons on the sidelines of October’s synod meeting, in vigils, prayer events and public demonstrations.
“They have opened Pandora’s box,” she said. “They’ve encouraged people to speak out, and they’re not going to stop speaking out now or ever again.”
In his letter to the Romans, in the New Testament, Paul introduces a woman named Phoebe as “deaconess of the Church” and praises her as “a helper of many and of myself as well.”
A smattering of women deacons has since been scattered across the history of the Church, especially in the Eastern traditions.
In the 12th century, the Church interrupted the ordination of deacons altogether, and for about 900 years, until the Second Vatican Council, it didn’t come up.
But in debates during Vatican II in the 1960s over how to re-energise the Church, the deaconate came to the fore once again.
Eventually the male deaconate was restored, but Pope Paul VI supported further study on the ordination of women. In 1973, he defaulted to commissioning a study that took three years to report that nothing in the Bible barred women from becoming priests.
As the Vatican ordered up further studies in the early 1990s without publishing their findings, the current lines were drawn:
Opponents argued that the biblical and historical female deacons didn’t serve the same role as deacons today, or served only females in highly segregated contexts. Advocates claimed that the modern diaconate, mostly seen as a first step toward becoming a priest, is the outlier.
In 1994, now-Saint Pope John Paul II declared, “The Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women,” seemingly closing the discussion forever.
Francis has supported John Paul’s ruling, shutting down hopes in an interview with CBS News in May for women’s ordination of any kind. But he has also kept up the pattern of commissioning studies, with one in 2016 and another in 2020, without revealing their findings.
“I think it’s pretty clear that the Vatican is trying to lower expectations of any outcome of this synodal gathering,” said Kate McElwee, executive director of the Women’s Ordination Conference.
McElwee said that it would constitute a “scandal” if the synod were to fail to recognise the call by thousands of women. She described the October summit as “a tipping point” for many.
Coupled with the decline in the number of priests, a downward trend that started in 2012, the demand for women deacons seems to have gathered an irresistible momentum.
A February study by Pew found that 64 percent of U.S. Catholics support the ordination of women as priests. Another Pew report on Sept. 26 in major Latin American countries found overwhelming support for ordaining women priests, especially among young generations.
“While women may not be in the pews in the same numbers on Sunday, that doesn’t mean that they’re not watching, organising, praying and working on correcting this injustice,” McElwee said.
Some women have lost hope in the synod, and Francis. Citing a misogynistic and suffocating environment, Lucetta Scaraffia quit her job in 2019 as the head of “Women, Church, World,” the only Vatican magazine specifically aimed at a female audience.
“We women have never been given anything without fighting for it,” said Scaraffia.
“There is this absurd idea that a good pope will come who will give women power. But that has never happened in history or in politics. Women took that power for themselves,” she said.
In his Sep. 27 visit to the Louvain Catholic University in Belgium, Francis talked about women in terms of their “fertile” and caregiving nature, the latest example of his frequent tone-deafness on gender.
He recently warned a group of priests that “gossip is for women” and once referred to the women appointed to a prestigious theological commission as “strawberries on the cake.”
But Scaraffia said deeper issues of trust in Church leadership have arisen with the rampant abuse of power, including sexual abuse of religious sisters by priests.
In her meetings with nuns, she has heard widespread yet often hidden demands of women religious for greater authority and, in some cases, ordination as an antidote.
Close observers of Francis’ leadership note that he has allowed women to head Vatican departments and to become lecturers.
Priests and bishops have become accustomed in this pontificate to brushing shoulders with women in curial offices and seeing them participate more actively at Mass. But more significant reform remains incremental.
The World Union of Catholic Women’s Organisations, which represents more than 8 million Catholic women in 50 countries, has shown itself willing to move at the Church’s pace, listening to Catholic women from all walks of life.
They tell in the organisation’s latest report how women often express feeling invisible and unappreciated for the work they do for the Church.
“The Church cannot go on with only men making all the decisions, when more than half of the Catholic population are women,” said Monica Santamarina, president general of WUCWO.
Santamarina said canon law allows women to do many things in the Church. They can sit on pastoral and diocesan councils that advise the parish priest or the bishop.
If women start by occupying those roles and showing other women and men that it’s possible, she said, young people will be attracted to the Church as well.
“I think that what is at stake for us women at the synod is not to take a step backwards,” she said. “I think we have to become a little more patient, more careful,” she added.
Barbara Dowding, vice president at WUCWO, believes the diaconate is possible for women but doubts it will happen in her lifetime.
“For bishops and priests who are living now and go back a long way, the very notion of having a woman ordained to anything is just so hard for them, you know? Because it’s been a male-dominated Church in so many ways,” she said.
There will be 54 female voting delegates at the October Synod, commonly referred to as Synod mothers, who will engage with prelates and priests in roundtable discussions.
The youngest is Julia Oseka, 23, a Polish student of physics and theology at St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia, who said she felt awe at the responsibility of representing the hopes of so many women.
“As I sat on that chair, I felt how many women before me contributed so that we might one day be listened to. I also felt inspired by so many women who are, for me, models of leaders in the Church,” she said at a webinar organized by WUCWO on Thursday (Sept. 26).
Oseka said that sitting in and voting at the synod “is a gift” and praised the opportunity “to dialogue on the same level with priests, bishops and lay people.”
Whether women watch the synod with disappointment or bated breath, Oseka urged that the event should be interpreted as “a sign not to give up on the task of giving visibility to women in the Church.”
- Claire Giangravè is a Rome-based reporter for RNS, covering the Catholic Church and the Vatican.
- First published by RNS