To many Catholics, this meeting came as a surprise.

Traditionally, the themes of detachment, sacrifice, humility and repentance appear far more frequently in religious writing and preaching than the spiritual benefits of a good laugh.

But as a specialist in medieval Christian history, I am aware that, since antiquity, many theologians, preachers, monastics and other Christians have embraced the role of humour as a valuable part of Christian spirituality.

Some have even become popularly known as the patron saints of comedians or laughter.

Comedy is natural

Many Catholic saints have considered laughter to be an integral part of nature itself.

For example, the 12th-century German nun St. Hildegard of Bingen, a mystic poet and musician, wrote in a poem on the power of God:

I am the rain coming from the dew
That causes the grasses to laugh with the joy of life.

In the 13th century, St. Francis of Assisi called himself the "Jongleur de Dieu" - troubadour or jester of God - because of his ministry.

He probably used a French reference because his mother came from France and spoke French at home.

Francis and his followers wandered from town to town, singing God's praises and preaching joyfully in the streets.

People laughed when he preached to birds in trees, and he once had to politely ask a large flock to stop chirping first.

The 16th-century nun and mystic St. Teresa of Avila wrote in a poem, alluding to the voice of Jesus Christ as love:

Love once said to me,
‘I know a song, would you like to hear it?'
And laughter came from every brick in the street
And from every pore in the sky.

Humour and play are an important part of human nature. They provide opportunities for relaxation and relief and offer a way to cope with the challenges of human life.

In the 13th century, Dominican scholastic theologian St. Thomas Aquinas composed a lengthy summary of theology that became one of the most important resources in the Catholic tradition: the Summa Theologica.

In it, he argued that humor and other kinds of joyful recreation offer the mind and soul the same kind of rest that the body needs.

Aquinas cautioned, however, that these kinds of words or activities must not become hurtful or indecent.

Comedy can heal

The shared experience of laughing can break down barriers across cultures and bring people together.

St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits in the 16th century, is said to have danced a jig to raise the spirits of a despondent man on retreat; he also praised a Jesuit novice for his healthy laughter.

In the same century, St. Philip Neri, who has been called the patron saint of humor and joy, was reputed to be a mystic and visionary.

To put others at ease, he engaged in pranks and jokes, once attending a gathering with half of his beard shaved off.

Some famous Catholic saints even faced death with a smile, such as the second-century deacon St. Lawrence, one of the patron saints of comedians.

The legend goes that as he was executed by being roasted alive on a gridiron over a hot fire, he joked with his executioners, saying, "Turn me over … I'm done on this side!"

This legend has carried over into the official story of his life.

The Carmelite nun St. Therese of Lisieux also lived a life marked by humour in the 19th century.

Even as she lay dying from tuberculosis at the age of 24, she is said to have joked with the other nuns and her doctor.

Supposedly, when a priest was called to give her the last rites, he refused because she looked too healthy. She replied that she would try to look sicker the next time he was called.

Popes and humor

Francis is far from the only pope to stress the value of humor in Catholic and Christian life.

Pope St. John XXIII, who in 1961 summoned the Second Vatican Council, calling all Catholic bishops worldwide to a series of formal meetings at the Vatican to update Catholicism, was known for his humour.

Famously, when asked once how many people worked at the Vatican, he replied, "About half of them."

The next pope, St. Paul VI - elected in 1963 - was an accomplished administrator known for his wit.

One of his papal documents was on the importance of "Christian joy."

Now on the path to sainthood as "blessed," John Paul I, who reigned for only a month in 1978, was known as "the smiling pope" because of his cheerfulness.

Pope St. John Paul II, the first non-Italian elected pope in almost 500 years, was only 58 years old when elected in 1978, and he was well-known for his sense of humour.

The German cardinal who succeeded him in 2005, Pope Benedict XVI, also valued the role of humour in a balanced Christian life: "Humour is in fact essential in the mirth of creation."

And before this 2024 audience with comedians, Francis discussed the topic of humor more fully in his 2018 apostolic exhortation.

In this important document, addressed to the whole Catholic Church, the Pope stated that holiness is within the reach of every believer and is achieved through a joyful life.

Humour has a section of its own within the exhortation.

In the audience with comedians on June 14, Francis, who took the name in honour of St. Francis of Assisi, the troubadour of God, has very publicly affirmed that for Catholics, humour is an important part of a faithful life.

The meeting even concluded with one of the pope's favorite prayers, for good humour, attributed to St. Thomas More, the chancellor of England under King Henry VIII - fitting, given More's legendary sense of humour.

Executed for treason in 1535, More is said to have asked the constable of the Tower of London to help him up the steps of the scaffold, with one of his last jokes: "For my coming down, I can shift for myself."

The prayer asks God for, among other things, "a good sense of humour … to share with others."

• First published in The Conversation
• Joanne M. Pierce is a Professor Emerita of Religious Studies, College of the Holy Cross, Worcester, Massachusetts.

Cardinals, bishops, priests and lay Catholics, both men and women, are meeting Oct. 4-29, 2023, as part of the Synod on Synodality: an effort Pope Francis launched in 2021 to generate dialogue among Catholics.

More than two weeks into the synod's first global assembly, participants are largely keeping quiet.

Opening the synod, Francis called for a "fasting of the public word," encouraging delegates to focus inward and treat discussions as private.

The goal of the three-year synod process is to consult with everyday Catholics worldwide about their concerns and experiences, guiding leaders' decision-making as the church enters its third millennium amid new challenges.

Controversial issues such as women's roles in ministry and LGBTQ+ people's place in the church dominate synod-related headlines, and are presumably being discussed.

Often overlooked, however, is an even more fundamental issue: what power and authority should look like in the church.

Far-reaching process

The synod began with listening sessions at parishes, Catholic universities and other Catholic settings across the globe.

All dioceses - the geographic regions into which the Catholic Church divides its ministry - were urged to hold such sessions.

In theory, these discussions offered an opportunity for all Catholics to have their voices heard at the highest levels of the church.

Key themes were passed up to local bishops, then synthesised into documents that informed consultations by a national-level assembly, and, in turn, the global assembly.

In some places, however, local leaders have not promoted the synod or have explicitly criticised it.

Clericalism v dialogue

Several topics on the table have garnered public attention, such as some Catholics' hopes to allow married priests or women deacons. Arguably the most important issue, however, is authority.

Conservative factions yearn for "clear teaching" on doctrine and strong centralised authority - even as, ironically, they resist the authority of the current pope, whom they criticise as an undisciplined leader or as too liberal.

Progressive factions, on the other hand, often seem to yearn for more democratic decision-making, akin to the independent authority local congregations have in some Protestant denominations.

In fact, as a scholar of the public role of the Catholic Church, I suspect both groups are likely to be disappointed.

The church strongly supports democracy in the secular world.

Internally, however, Catholicism preserves a deep tradition of governance rooted in apostolic succession: the teaching that bishops' authority descends directly from the Apostles of Jesus Christ.

In other words, the legitimacy of their leadership stems from this lineage, rather than a democratic process.

The synod process aims to move toward a more dialogue-based model for how the authority of priests and bishops should work, within this apostolic understanding of Catholic authority.

Francis v ‘clericalism'

Catholics and many non-Catholics tend to understand the church as a kind of vertically integrated corporation, where unquestioned authority flows from the top.

Waves of clergy sex abuse scandals, in particular, have discredited this model in many people's eyes, and Francis appears to be moving Catholicism away from this style of leadership.

He has repeatedly criticised "clericalism": the tendency to center the faith on priests and obedience to their authority.

"To say "no" to abuse is to say an emphatic "no" to all forms of clericalism," he wrote in a 2018 letter addressed to "the people of God."

Five years later, in a note to priests in Rome, he described clericalism as "a sickness" that leads to authority "without humility but with detached and haughty attitudes."

Instead, Francis is advancing a model in which bishops exercise their authority through continuous dialogue with the faithful, the Catholic intellectual tradition and the wider world.

This model views the church as constantly evolving, even as it forever affirms core truths.

Sociologists call these types of models "participative hierarchy."

One aspect of this more responsive and dynamic model of authority has been prominently on display during the general assembly: Nuns and laypeople, both men and women, are full participants, with voice and vote in all matters coming before the synod.

While this sounds moderate, it challenges the core understanding of authority among clericalist Catholics, who argue that such reforms would go against tradition.

However, Catholicism has used both models of authority in different periods.

Politics and the pope

The controversy surrounding the synod also reflects a simple fact: The Catholic Church in the U.S. is as polarised as secular American society.

A decade ago, at the very start of Francis' papacy, he was seen as a moderate conservative. But he quickly signaled openness to the modern world, in part by criticising two qualities as anathema to Catholic teachings.

First, clericalism, with its tendency to treat clergy as elite or above accountability.

Second, a backward-looking nostalgia for some earlier time when a perfect Catholicism supposedly existed - a stance that Francis sees as undercutting Catholicism here and now.

As of 2021, about four in five U.S. Catholics had a positive opinion of Francis.

Among clergy and Catholic leaders, however, he has some vocal detractors.

While Francis has embraced constructive debate, he has pointedly removed from authority some clergy, including Americans, whom he sees as actively undermining his direction for the church.

More recently, he accused U.S. conservatives of "backwardness" and of replacing spirituality with ideology.

For now, the synod moves forward despite the divides. There will be another synod assembly in Rome in October 2024, after which final recommendations will be made and the pope will decide what to put into action.

Beyond whatever particular changes this synod assembly may or may not recommend, its deeper impact will lie in how Francis' vision of Catholic authority fares.

In the long term, I would argue, this is where the Catholic future will be most shaped. The world's 1.4 billion Catholics will be watching.

• Richard Wood is the President, Institute for Advanced Catholic Studies, USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences
• First published in The Conversation

Indeed, programs like ChatGPT, that can produce a sermon in seconds, might seem attractive to busy clergy.

But several religious leaders, including rabbis serving Jewish congregations as well as Christian Protestant pastors, have conflicting feelings about utilising chatbots in preparing sermons.

There may be several reasons for being cautious.

From my perspective, as a specialist in Catholic liturgy and ritual, the most important critique has to do with true intent of preaching - to offer insight and inspiration on the human experience of faith.

Historical practice

In the early centuries of Christianity, preaching was largely reserved for bishops, considered to be the successors to Jesus' apostles.

During the Middle Ages, priests were also allowed to preach, although their chief responsibility was to say the Mass - ritually consecrating the offerings of bread and wine - especially on Sundays.

In some religious orders, priests became famous traveling preachers, although much of the time they were preaching in other settings, not during Mass.

The Franciscan and Dominican orders, for example, would send priests to preach on the streets and in city centers, traveling from town to town in fulfillment of this ministry.

During the next few centuries, preaching brief sermons or homilies became increasingly important during the celebration of Sunday Mass.

The Second Vatican Council, convened in 1962, took a fresh look at all the Church's rituals and stressed the role of preaching at worship, especially at Mass.

These principles have been reaffirmed in more recent documents that guide Catholic preachers when writing a sermon. In essence, preaching was always believed to be a human activity grounded in faith.

Insight and inspiration

Preaching as a human activity has a special meaning for Catholics - and most Christians.

This is because they believe that Jesus Christ is the incarnate Son of God, who came into human life to save all of humanity from their sins and gave his apostles the commandment to preach the Gospel about this "good news" to people of all nations.

In the decades since Vatican II ended in 1965, preaching in the Catholic tradition has been emphasised as a "primary duty" of all priests.

The sermon is meant to inspire people in their ordinary lives of faith.

The preacher must spend time in preparing the sermon, but this does not just mean compiling theological quotes or doing research on the history of the Bible.

A good sermon is not just a classroom lecture. In fact, several contemporary popes have stressed that the language of sermons should avoid technical or obscure terminology.

In 1975, Pope Paul VI wrote that the language of preaching should be "simple, clear, direct, well-adapted" for the congregation in the pews.

And in 2013, Pope Francis echoed these same words in his observation that "simplicity has to do with the language we use."

But preaching is not just about offering pious mottoes or generic religious formulas. The preacher's experience, insights and emotions all come into play when composing the homiletic text.

The preacher is not simply offering good advice, but speaking out of personal reflection in a way that will inspire the members of the congregation, not just please them.

It must also be shaped by an awareness of the needs and lived experience of the worshipping community in the pews.

Use with caution

In practice, chatbots might help clergy save time by finding sources and compiling relevant facts, but the results would need to be checked for errors.

Chatbots have been known to make some factual blunders or invent sources completely.

Above all, I believe chatbots, as of now, are not capable of preparing a text suitable for being offered as a sermon. From what we know about chatbots, they cannot know what it means to be human, to experience love or be inspired by a sacred text.

Perhaps Baptist pastor Hershael York, Dean of the School of Theology at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, has put it best.

He has noted that the ultimate failure of a chatbot's sermon lies in the fact that it "lacks a soul."

Without that empathetic consciousness, a chatbot-composed sermon cannot include genuine insights based on personal spiritual experience. And without that essential element of embodied human awareness, true preaching is simply not possible.

• Joanne M. Pierce is a Professor Emerita of Religious Studies, College of the Holy Cross
• First published in The Conversation. Republished with permission.

The church's General Synod has, however, clarified that it will not abolish or substantially revise any of the currently authorized liturgies.

Nonetheless, this news made headlines and brought up questions of how religions refer to God. Is God male? What pronouns should be used to refer to God?

As a Catholic feminist theologian who runs a women's center at a Catholic university, I understand the impact of the pronouns Christians use for God.

Historically, Christian tradition has recognized many pronouns for God, including "he/him," "she/her" and "they/them."

This is partly because God does not have a gender.

Despite the diverse images used for God in Scripture and Christian tradition, male language and images predominate in contemporary Christian worship.

Many images for God

When we speak about God, we do so knowing that what we say is incomplete. All images for God reveal something about God. No image of God is literal or reveals everything about God.

For example, while Christians can refer to God as a king, they must also remember that God is not literally a king.

Calling God a king expresses that God is powerful.

However, it is not expressing factual accuracy about God's gender or implying that God is human.

Referring to God with many titles, descriptions and images invites many of us to recognize the mystery of God.

God is like all of these things but also more than all of these things.

Thomas Aquinas, an influential 13th-century Catholic theologian, asserted that individuals can talk about God in ways that are true but always inadequate.

Aquinas explained that our language about God affirms something about God, yet God is always beyond what we can express.

We express truths about God in human terms and constructs, but since God is mystery, God is always beyond these categories.

Scripture is filled with multiple images of God.

In some of these images, God is depicted as a father or male. Jesus teaching his disciples to pray the "Our Father" prayer is perhaps the most well-known example of a male title for God.

In other parts of Scripture, God is female.

The prophet Isaiah compares God to a nursing mother in the Book of Isaiah.

A mother hen gathering her chicks is an analogy for God in the Gospel of Matthew.

The Book of Wisdom, a book in the Catholic Bible, depicts wisdom personified as a woman.

Wisdom 10:18-19 states: "She took them across the Red Sea and brought them through deep waters. Their enemies she overwhelmed." This account presents God as female, leading Moses and the Israelites out of Egypt and into the Promised Land.

Depicting God as female in Scripture speaks to God's tenderness as well as strength and power.

For example, the prophet Hosea compares God with a bear robbed of her cubs, promising to "attack and rip open" those who break the covenant.

Elsewhere in Scripture, God has no gender.

God appears to Moses in the burning bush in Exodus 3, defying all gender categories.

The Book of 1 Kings presents a gentle image of a gender-neutral God.

God asked the prophet Elijah to go to a mountain.

While there, Elijah experienced a strong wind, an earthquake and fire, but God was not present in those.

Instead, God was present in a gentle whisper.

The creation stories of Genesis refer to God in the plural.

These examples emphasize that God has no gender and is beyond any human categories.

The social impact of male pronouns

Pronouns, like "He/Him" in the Christian tradition, can limit one's understanding of God. It can also make many individuals think that God is male.

It is not wrong to refer to God with male pronouns, but it can have negative social and theological consequences to refer to God with only male pronouns.

Feminist theologian Mary Daly famously stated, "If God is male, then the male is God."

In other words, referring to God only as the male gender has a significant social impact that can exalt one gender at the expense of others.

Referring to God only as a male can also limit one's theological imagination: Using many pronouns for God emphasises that God is mystery, beyond all human categories.

The Church of England is not only responding to modern questions about gender, but also continuing a long tradition within Christianity of referring to God as male, female and beyond gender constructs.

• Annie Selak is the Associate Director, Women's Center, Georgetown University, United States
• First published in The Conversation. Republished with permission