Here are five things to look for as the synod delegates gather in Rome.

How is the second session similar to the first session of the synod?

The first session of the synod took place last October after a worldwide consultation process that asked people how they thought the church should respond to the challenges that faced it and the world.

The consultation began at the parish and diocesan level and was further discussed and synthesised at the national and continental levels.

All of this was passed on to the synod office in Rome, which synthesized the suggestions and shared them with the synod participants.

This first session was like no other synod before it.

There were fewer long speeches, and discussion took place at roundtables of 10, with delegates following a methodology of "conversations in the Spirit."

Earlier synods had only had bishops and a few priests, while at the Synod on Synodality, about a quarter of the participants were lay people, including women.

The second session will include the same delegates as last year except for a few substitutes who will replace those unable to return.

Rather than simply debating issues at the tables, the stress at last year's synod was on listening to each other.

First, each participant would share his or her thoughts and feelings about an issue without interruption. Then they would go around the table again, with each person sharing what they had heard.

Only after listening and sharing what they had heard was there a free discussion.

In the process, everyone was treated equally whether they were a lay person or cardinal.

Moderators were present at each table to guide the process and to make sure bishops did not dominate the discussion.

Each table drew up a report on its conclusions, which were shared with the rest of the synod.

The full synod ultimately voted on a final report, each paragraph of which required a two-thirds vote.

All of this was done behind closed doors with the members of the synod instructed not to share with the press or the public what went on in the synod.

Only the final report was public.

This year's session will follow the same methodology of conversations in the Spirit as the first session.

How will the second session differ from the first session?

The agenda for the first session came from the worldwide consultations.

As a result, lots of issues were discussed including controversial ones like women deacons and the church's approach to LGBTQ+ persons.

Many of the controversial issues could not be resolved because of disagreements among the delegates. For example, although the term LGBTQ+ is now commonly used by the Vatican, it was left out of the final report because the drafters feared that any paragraph including this term would not get a two-thirds vote due to opposition from African and Eastern European bishops.

In the final report, the synod called for further study of the issues they could not resolve.

The assumption was that the results of these studies would provide input for the second session of the synod.

Pope Francis, however, decided these issues need more study than could be completed in a year.

In addition, he thinks the complexity of these topics would distract from the main theme of the synod.

He wants the synod to focus on "How to be a synodal church on mission?"

As a result, last February, he sent the controversial topics to 10 study groups or committees where the synod organizers would collaborate with curial offices to study them further.

The committees are to report back to him in June of 2025, although they will also make an interim report to the synod in October.

During the second session of the synod, the pope wants the delegates to focus on the topic of synodality rather than these controversial topics.

• How can the church become more synodal on the parish, diocesan, national, and international levels?
• How can the church be more consultative, more listening, and less clerical?
• How can the church listen to the Spirit and follow where it is leading us?
• How can the laity become more involved in Jesus's mission?

Francis has repeatedly made clear that for him, this should be the true focus of the synod, not the controversial issues discussed in the media.

The focus on synodality could have practical implications.

The synod office announced in March the formation of an additional five working groups to address topics such as the role of bishops, decentralization in the church and how to inject synodality in church structures, theology and mission.

This could lead to real-world changes in how parish and diocesan councils function in the church.

The synod might even call for a process whereby the laity could participate in a periodic review of the ministry of their bishop.

What will be in the committees' interim reports to the synod?

In an attempt to keep the synod informed, the papally appointed study groups or committees will give interim reports to the delegates.

The topics being studied by the committees include ecumenical dialogue, the formation of priests, the role of bishops and papal representatives, theological questions on ministries and "controversial doctrinal, pastoral and ethical questions."

Women deacons will be studied under the rubric of "ministries," while LGBTQ+ issues will be studied under the rubric of "the circular relationship between doctrine and pastoral care."

My guess is that these committees will report more on topics needing study than on any results from their studies. I don't think we are going to see any first drafts of their conclusions.

Fourth, what will be the reactions from conservative and progressive activists to the second session of the synod?

The conservative response to the first session of the synod was negative.

They warned that the church is not a democracy and feared that the role of the hierarchy was being diminished.

Progressives, on the other hand, were ecstatic about the involvement of the laity and the openness of discussion.

They praised the roundtable format and the conversations in the Spirit, although they would have preferred allowing members to speak freely about their experience.

• Will conservatives continue to complain or will they see Francis' removal of controversial issues as an appropriate assertion of hierarchical control?
• Will progressives continue to praise Francis and the synodal process or will they revolt against his narrowing of the agenda of the synod?

RNS Vatican reporter Claire Giangravé reports that Catholic women remain hopeful in the synod despite the challenges.

Although women deacons is off the agenda, the "Instrumentum Laboris" instructed participants to consider practical actions to realize Catholic women's "untapped" potential and to develop new possibilities for women at every level.

Giangravé reports that the document suggested creating new spaces where women may share their skills and insights, allowing for more women in decision-making roles, expanding the roles and responsibility of religious women and increasing the leadership of women in seminaries and church tribunals.

How will the synod end? With a bang or a whimper?

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

I have covered almost every synod since.

It has never been easy.

Meetings of the synod are usually closed, and the information released to the press is carefully controlled.

The Vatican wishes to project an image of prayerful harmony in which the bishops exchange ideas with no conflict.

The media, on the other hand, thrives on conflict. You will never read a headline saying, "Participants love one another; everything is fine."

Covering the Synod on Synodality has been especially difficult.

Pope Francis does not like the press, especially the Western media, which, he believes, only writes about issues of concern to the Global North.

Thus, at the 2015 Synod on the Family, the coverage focused on Francis' intentions for divorced and remarried Catholics.

• Can they get annulments?
• Can they go to Communion?
• And can married couples practice birth control?

There was little concern for the plight of

• refugee families,
• human trafficking,
• forced marriages of families broken by the need for men to migrate to find work to support their families.

Likewise, at the Synod on the Pan-Amazon Region, in 2019, the Western media's focus was on the possibility of ordaining married men to deal with the shortage of priests in rural communities in the Amazon.

And many thought might open the door to married priests everywhere.

Little attention was given to the Indigenous people in the region who were being displaced and killed in order to provide beef, lumber and minerals to the industrialised world.

Nor did the importance of the Amazon rain forest as a consumer of carbon dioxide get much attention.

At the current synod, the media is no less fascinated by hot-button issues put on the agenda by Catholics in the Church's global listening sessions that kicked off the synod:

• blessings for gay couples,
• the prospect of married priests
• and women priests and deacons.

For Francis, the synod is about a new way of being a Church, a path for overcoming divisions through conversations in the Spirit and a new way of making decisions in the Church through discernment.

Secrecy - not great communication

Every synod has had an antagonistic relationship with the media.

Journalists are suspicious by nature.

The media suspects people are hiding something, and the less you give reporters, the more suspicious they become.

Francis has acknowledged that the Vatican has tightly controlled earlier synods.

At the 2001 synod on the role of the bishop, called by John Paul II, Francis was named a "relator" — a papal-appointed coordinator — and he recalled being told what topics could not be discussed.

If they were discussed, he was told, they should be left out of the public reports. At the first synod he oversaw as pope, he encouraged the members to speak boldly and not worry about what people thought.

Despite the general gag order, information about the synods generally got leaked to the Italian press.

Many observers see in this a method for officials of the Roman curia, the bureaucrats of the Church, to control the narrative of the synod. Stop the bishops from talking to the press while at the same time secretly giving stories to the curia's favourite journalists.

There is some logic to confidentiality for synodal discussions. Secrecy promotes free debate and allows members to speak without fear of retribution from their hostile government.

How much material is made available to the press has varied from synod to synod.

At some, nothing was made public except the final report.

At others, speakers could release part of their addresses but not the full texts.

Some American bishops have responded by dropping the first sentence, the one greeting the pope and the synodal members, then publishing the rest.

Some synods even released the reports from the small group discussions. These reports gave a summary of the discussions but never told who said what.

I found them very helpful in writing stories on the synod.

Vatican's pots and pans communication strategy

At the Synod on Synodality, major addresses have been open to the press, but, sadly, the reports from the small group discussions remain secret.

In addition, the major addresses have been more on process than substance, which gives the media little to talk about.

Without access to the small group discussions, the press is not able to get a feel for what is going on in the synod.

The Vatican approach to the press is the equivalent of telling people what pots and pans are in the kitchen without letting them watch the chef cook the meal.

Eventually, the synod may serve a delicious meal, but no one will know how they did it. No one will learn how to cook.

Since releasing the reports from the small groups in the past did not harm the synodal process, it is incomprehensible why Francis refuses to allow it for this synod.

Without anything to write about, the media is giving attention to the sideshows and demonstrations happening outside the synod.

I have chosen to look elsewhere, writing about

• Laudate Deum, the pope's new document on global warming,
• or to cover the byplay leading up to the synod: the "dubia,"
• or questions raised by five conservative cardinals,
• and the retreat talks given to the synodal members by the Dominican Timothy Radcliffe prior to the synod.

Francis does not 'get' Western media

Francis does not understand when it comes to the media, you either feed the beast or the beast eats you.

You either control the narrative, or the narrative is controlled by anyone who grabs the media's attention.

In the past, it was the progressive press that saw conspiracies everywhere.

Today, it is the conservative Catholic media that believes that everything is being controlled by a cabal of liberal theologians and officials.

Perhaps the pope should lock up the press and force them to do a month of prayer, conversation in the Spirit and discernment. That would be fun to watch.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

I personally hope the synod deals with these issues, but making these topics the principal focus of the synod would be a big mistake.

They certainly are not central to Pope Francis's mind, nor are they central to the "Instrumentum laboris," or working paper, that will guide the initial meetings of the synod.

For the "Instrumentum laboris" and Pope Francis, the priority issues are communion, participation and mission.

If the synod does not foster greater communion, participation and mission, then it will be a failure.

Pope Francis' hope is that the fruit of the next assembly will be that the Spirit inspires the church to walk together as the people of God in fidelity to the mission the Lord has entrusted to it.

Communion is central to who we are as church.

According to the "Instrumentum laboris," citing the Second Vatican Council, the church is a sign and instrument of union with God and the unity of all humanity. People should see this union with God and this human unity in the life of the church.

The church should be a preeminent way for people to attain this union. Fostering that communion is at the heart of what it means to be a synodal church.

If we forget that while we squabble over who can or cannot be a minister, then we miss the point.

Likewise, arguing over who can be a priest should not make us forget that we are all responsible for the church's mission in service of the gospel.

If we all accepted our responsibility for the church's mission, the clergy would be much less important to the church's life.

Our need for communion and our co-responsibility for the mission lead to questions about participation, governance and authority — where authority is service and decisions are made through discernment.

Participation and discernment are not simply for the synod; they are the lifeblood of every local church.

This is not to say the synod will ignore real problems in the world.

The "Intrumentum laboris" reports the particular situations experienced by the church in different parts of the world.

These include too many wars, the threat of climate change, as well as "exploitation, inequality and a throwaway culture, and the desire to resist the homogenizing pressure of cultural colonialism that crushes minorities." Added to this is "persecution to the point of martyrdom," as well as self-inflicted wounds of sexual abuse and the abuse of power, conscience and money in the church.

But these problems will not be solved by resolutions or documents, according to Francis, but through greater communion, co-responsibility in mission and increased participation in the life of the church.

In other words, even if I got what I wanted out of the synod — married priests and women priests — but the church became less a sign and instrument of union with God and the unity of all humanity, then the synod would not have achieved its goals.

If I got what I wanted, and the church remained clerical with a passive laity, then the synod would have been a failure.

If we continued as usual with just different people in charge, then we missed the revolution Pope Francis is calling for.

Progressives are thinking too small.

Through the synod, Francis is calling for a spiritual shake-up much greater than anyone can imagine.

He is not looking for a few thousand new clergy to keep the church going.

He wants a mass movement that makes the gospel alive in our time. On the other hand, conservative Catholics fear this movement will get out of control.

They want the Spirit to be under the thumb of hierarchy.

According to the "Instrumentum laboris," this revolution has already begun in the preparations for the synod:

"The first phase renewed our awareness that our identity and vocation is to become an increasingly synodal Church: walking together, that is, becoming synodal, is the way to truly become disciples and friends of that Master and Lord who said of himself: ‘I am the way' (Jn 14:6)."

The spiritual conversations that have occurred in parishes and dioceses around the world have already fostered communion and helped people become more aware of their responsibility for the mission of the church in service of the gospel.

The synodal church began growing at the grassroots and hopefully will bloom at the synod in Rome.

The hope is that the synod will "continue to animate the synodal process in the ordinary life of the church, identifying which pathways the Spirit invites us to walk along more decisively as one People of God," according to the "Instrumentum laboris."

Pope Francis is betting his papacy on the hope that these local ripples of synodality will combine into a tsunami that will transform the church so that it is truly a sign and instrument of communion with God and the unity of all humanity.

The church will become God's instrument for the transformation of the world.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America.
• First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

The good news is there are ways to reduce and eliminate the growth in global warming; the bad news is I am not sure we will implement them fast enough.

As I mentioned in my column last week, human-caused climate change threatens life as we know it on the planet. Sadly, too many people deny the science or don't make it a priority.

As a result, some politicians are not willing to make the tough decisions to deal with climate change.

First, the good news. What can we do to deal with global warming?

Economists are almost unanimous in saying the best way to slow down global warming is through a tax on carbon emissions. This is basic economic theory.

If you tax something, you make it more expensive and people will use less of it. This approach uses the power of the marketplace rather than government regulations to influence people's decisions.

A tax on carbon emissions would make energy from fossil fuels more expensive, which makes alternative sources of energy more attractive.

Customers will demand cheaper alternatives and more energy-efficient devices, and investors will be willing to put their money toward responding to these demands knowing there is a market for it.

Theoretically, this reduces the need for government regulations and investment since the market would encourage thousands of entrepreneurs to try various approaches until some succeed.

This is why the auto industry preferred raising gasoline taxes to government efficiency standards.

The problem with taxing carbon is political. Voters don't like taxes and politicians are afraid to enact them.

The Biden administration flips this idea on its head by enacting tax credits for alternative sources of energy. In other words, instead of making fossil fuels more expensive, the administration is making alternative energy cheaper.

On top of this is direct government spending to foster alternative sources of energy by installing charging stations and by purchasing electric cars and trucks for government agencies.

Tax credits are politically more acceptable than taxes or government spending. Voters love tax credits, even though tax reformers hate them. Politicians find them easy to vote for and hard to criticise.

Now that the credits are in the law, Republicans are going to find it hard to repeal them.

Individual and corporate taxpayers will get mad at anyone trying to repeal what they now consider their right. Republicans will be accused of trying to raise taxes, something they always accuse Democrats of doing.

Another advantage of tax credits is that, although more energy-efficient equipment is cheaper in the long run, it tends to be more expensive in the short term.

A rational consumer should be willing to pay more for a refrigerator, air conditioner or car if in the long run it is cheaper. But most consumers are not rational, or they don't have the money to afford energy-efficient purchases.

Most people look at the sticker price, not the cost over a five-year period.

In response, government regulations can set energy standards for equipment or simply ban the sale of inefficient products, like incandescent lightbulbs.

It can also give a tax credit for the purchase of energy-efficient equipment, which brings down the original sticker price. The Biden administration has done both.

The good news is that government and private research and investments have brought down the cost of alternative energy more dramatically than the experts expected. The cost of wind and solar energy is now cheaper than oil, gas or nuclear.

"The world has produced nearly three billion solar panels at this point, and every one of those has been an opportunity for people to try to improve the process," Gregory Nemet, a solar power expert at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, told The New York Times.

"And all of those incremental improvements add up to something very dramatic."

Europe is now getting more energy from wind and solar than from fossil fuels, thanks in part to Vladimir Putin's war in Ukraine.

China, because of government investment, is still outperforming Europe and the United States, but the growth of solar and wind energy is expected to be dramatic in the coming years.

Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, with its subsidies for domestic investment in alternative energy, has forced European countries to come up with their own programmes to compete.

A tsunami of investment in alternative energy is coming, and much of it is occurring in red states and rural areas that traditionally vote Republican.

Flat rural areas like the Midwest and Texas have the steady wind needed for energy production. Southern states have the sun. Green jobs in red states are going to eventually impact American politics surrounding global warming.

Republicans are going to have to change their position on global warming or they are going to begin losing elections in their backyards.

The biggest obstacles to alternative energy are no longer technical or economic. They are political. First, there are campaign donations, phony science and propaganda funded by fossil fuel interests.

Second, there is NIMBY-ism, "not in my backyard."

Liberal states in the Northeast have beach towns that don't want their ocean views "desecrated" by wind turbines.

And to make full use of wind and solar power, the electric grid needs to be upgraded, and no one wants transmission lines near their homes.

Even environmentalists object to wind farms over concerns birds and bats will be killed by the turbines.

Environmental and local-control laws favored by liberals in recent decades are now making it difficult to deal with global warming.

But we cannot afford to delay our response. We have ways to deal with global warming and they are improving every day. The question is, still, do we have the will to save God's creation?

• The Rev. Thomas J. Reese, a Jesuit priest, is a Senior Analyst at RNS.
• RNS

He has made the college more international, less European, less curial, more pastoral and less ideological.

Like every pope before him, Francis has been looking for men who reflect his priorities for the church.

For John Paul II, this meant prelates who were loyal to the Vatican and opposed changing the church's teaching on birth control, sexual ethics, married priests and women priests. John Paul also liked strong personalities who were willing to take on political and cultural elites on abortion, gay marriage and other issues.

Benedict also appointed cardinals who were loyal and defenders of traditional church teaching, but he preferred his cardinals to be more academic than culture warrior.

Francis, on the other hand, has looked for bishops who are pastors to their people and prioritize the poor and marginalized.

During his 10-year reign, Pope Francis has had a significant impact on the College of Cardinals, and that continues with the 18 newly appointed cardinal electors (those under 80 years of age who can vote for a pope in a conclave).

After the next consistory on Sept. 30, 72% of the 137 cardinal electors will have been appointed by Francis. Since it takes a two-thirds vote to elect a new pope, the Francis cardinals could elect someone even if all the other cardinals voted against him.

Only 7% of the electors are hangovers from the papacy of John Paul II; 21% were appointed by Benedict.

These are not necessarily cardinals at odds with Francis and his vision.

At least some of these cardinals probably voted for Francis in the last conclave.

In any case, by the end of January, five more of the cardinals appointed by his predecessors will age out.

Another five will be over 80 by the end of 2024.

It is therefore highly likely the next pope will be in sympathy with the direction Francis has been leading the church, but in conclaves there are no guarantees.

Certainly, there have been surprises in the past, such as John XXIII, John Paul I and John Paul II. On the other hand, no one was surprised by the elections of Pius XII, Paul VI and Benedict XVI.

But Francis' impact on the College of Cardinals is greater than just numbers. He has also dramatically changed where the cardinals come from.

Prior to Francis, certain sees — such as Venice and Milan — were considered cardinalatial, that is, their archbishops automatically became cardinals.

Francis threw this tradition out the window and has appointed cardinals from far-flung dioceses that had rarely, if ever, had a cardinal. For example, the most recent batch of cardinals include prelates from Malaysia and South Sudan, which have never had cardinals.

Nixing the practice of appointing cardinals from the traditional sees — mostly large and wealthy, often European — freed Francis to skip people who historically would have been appointed but who were not in line with his priorities.

As a result of Francis' appointments, the geographical representation in the college has changed dramatically in favor of the developing world.

After the consistory, about half of the cardinals will be from the developing world, as compared to 35% at the 2013 conclave that elected Francis.

Surprisingly, Francis has not heavily favoured his home turf.

Latin America will go up slightly to 17.5% of the college in September, compared to 16.2 at the 2013 conclave.

The real winners are Asia (up to 16.8% from 9.6%) and Africa (up to 14% from 9.6%).

The losers in this geographical transformation are Italy (down to 11% from 24%) and Eastern Europe (down to 5% from 9.4%). Remember, John Paul had increased the Eastern European representation during his papacy to 10.4 % of the electors.

As a result, the European contingent among the cardinal electors has dropped to 38.7% from more than half (52%) in 2013.

The U.S. contingent has dropped slightly to 8% from 9.4%.

Europeans will still have a significant voice at the next conclave, but the voice of the Global South is getting stronger.

Finally, although Francis made cardinals of his top appointments in the Vatican Curia, he has reduced the percent of cardinal electors who are from the church's bureaucracy.

At the conclave that elected him, 35% of the cardinals were from the Curia. After the September consistory, they will make up only 22.6% of the electors.

It is too early to predict the outcome of the next conclave, but Pope Francis has set the stage through his appointments.

The votes from Europe and the Roman Curia have been reduced; the voice of the Global South has been increased.

The conclave will be made up primarily of pastors who, like Francis, remember the poor.

This does not mean a liberal reformer will be elected as the next pope. Progressives should remember that cardinals from the Global South do not necessarily have progressive views on the rights of women and gays.

They can be economically liberal and cultural conservatives.

Many, myself included, believe that some cardinals at the 2013 conclave thought they were electing a theological conservative when they voted for Jorge Mario Bergoglio.

Because they come from all over the world, many of the cardinals at the next conclave will not know each other very well.

Since the conclave rules and recent tradition encourage a quick election, cardinals will have to go through the equivalent of "speed dating" to get to know one another.

With no leading candidates at this time, we could be in for another surprise. The Spirit breathes where it will.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America.
• First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

If an American were in charge of running the pope's synod, it would be very different.

Americans would begin by asking, "What are the major issues facing the Catholic Church?"

To answer this question, they would use public opinion polling, focus groups, consultation with experts and a review of traditional and social media.

The results would show declines in church attendance, in sacramental practice (baptisms and marriages), in respect for the clergy, in the number of religious and priestly vocations and in the number of people who self-identify as Catholic.

It would find that Catholics are angry about sexual abuse and its coverup and that women are tired of being second-class citizens.

One out of three people raised Catholic have left the church, and they do it at a young age.

If economists were studying the church, they would find that customers are staying away, the labour force is ageing and shrinking, the brand has been tarnished by scandals, and its products are no longer in demand.

If the church were on the stock market, its value would have plummeted, and no one would invest in it.

After analyzing the problems, Americans would then get to work trying to find solutions.

Task forces would be formed to deal with each problem; experts would be consulted, and solutions would be test marketed to see what works.

But for Americans, the process is less important than the solutions. Success is more important than theory.

This is not the way the Catholic Church operates.

Many in the church prefer to blame the world for its problems rather than to undergo a thorough self-examination.

Secularism, consumerism, liberalism, anticlericalism, capitalism and other "isms" are easy explanations for the church's failures.

Churchmen also see failure differently from scientists. If a scientist has a theory that does not fit the world, she will revise her theory.

If a churchman has a theology that does not fit the world, then the world must change.

This ideological approach to reality allows churchmen to ignore data in order to continue doing the same old things.

As the Rev. Andrew Greeley, the eminent Catholic sociologist, pointed out decades ago, churchmen have little training or respect for the social sciences. All answers will be found in theology; data can be ignored.

Francis' synodal approach breaks with this ideological tradition.

Perhaps because he was first trained as a scientist, he abhors ideology from both the right and the left.

His enthusiasm for consulting the faithful is confusing to traditionalists, who believe the church has all the answers already.

They do not understand how he can open up for discussion issues that Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI said were closed.

But Francis' willingness to consult the faithful is also confusing to liberals because they equate it with democracy, which stipulates that whoever has the most votes wins.

What is most confusing for Americans is that for Francis, the process may be more important than the results.

The voyage may be more important than the destination.

For Francis, synodality is a spiritual experience.

It is a way of experiencing the Spirit as a discerning community. It is a way of being the community of the disciples of Christ.

It is being church.

"As we listen attentively to each other's lived experiences," explains the synod's working paper, or Instrumentum Laboris, released Tuesday (June 20), "we grow in mutual respect and begin to discern the movements of God's Spirit in the lives of others and in our own.

In this way," we become "a Church increasingly capable of making prophetic decisions that are the fruit of the Spirit's guidance."

Being synod, doing synod, in other words, is more important than the decisions that will come out of the synod.

If the synod made decisions (even correct ones) but made them in the wrong way, in Francis' mind, the synod would be a failure. The destination is reached, but the trip was a failure.

This is absolute nonsense to results-oriented Americans.

What matters to us is the decisions the synod makes.

• Can women become deacons or priests?
• Can married persons become priests?
• Will regulations on sex abuse be strengthened and enforced?
• Will gay couples be blessed?
• Will the traditional Latin Mass be suppressed or expanded?
• Will top jobs in the Vatican (prefects and nuncios) be opened to laymen and women?
• Will lay people have a decision-making role in the church?
• Will the church's teaching on sex and gender be updated?

For Francis, it is more important that those involved in the synodal process experience the Spirit during their time together in prayer, discussion and listening.

They are modelling what it means to be church.

This disconnect is especially problematic for journalists who must cover the synod.

We can't interview the Spirit who is the one behind the curtain pulling the strings.

Anyone who gets that interview will win a Pulitzer.

Interviewing those who have experienced the Spirit is frustrating, and you struggle to find the lead. Their responses often sound like pious gobbledygook.

All of this is reflected in the Instrumentum Laboris.

To begin with, the document needed a good editor who would have cut it down to half its length.

Even a dedicated church watcher like me found it hard to keep my eyes open reading it the first time.

I had to read it a number of times in small doses over several days.

The document confused many because it raised questions without giving answers.

As a result, most journalists focused on the items dealing with LGBTQ people, women deacons, married priests and lay decision-making in the church — things the ordinary reader could understand.

When the synodal delegates gather in Rome this October, their challenge will be to be open to the Spirit in their prayer and conversations.

Egos must be put aside. Ideologies must be tabled.

Like the apostles gathered in the upper room with Mary, they must experience the Spirit's call to communion, mission and co-responsibility.

Like the Apostles gathered with Peter and Paul in the church's first synod in Jerusalem, they must speak boldly, listen with charity and not be afraid of being revolutionary when the Spirit calls for it.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

All I knew about Jorge Bergoglio was that my friends in Latin America, liberation theologians and Jesuits, did not like him, calling him conservative and authoritarian.

I was not alone in my ignorance.

George Weigel, the conservative Catholic commentator and biographer of Pope John Paul II, opined in a column shortly after Francis' election that the sole disappointment in John Paul and Pope Benedict XVI for many cardinals was that these popes had not reformed the Jesuits.

According to Weigel, the cardinals had decided that the only way to reform the Jesuits was to elect a conservative one as pope.

Weigel claimed to know the mind of Bergoglio because he had spent time talking with him in Buenos Aires about the Jesuits and the church.

My guess is that Weigel did most of the talking while Bergoglio sat poker-faced, leading Weigel to think that the archbishop agreed with everything he said.

Within a couple of weeks, we learned how wrong we both were.

The cardinals had elected as pope a man who would change the style of being pope, attack clericalism, empower the laity, open the church to conversation and debate and change the pastoral and public priorities of the church.

Although he did not change doctrine, he was revolutionary in every other way.

The stylistic change was immediately evident when, from the balcony of St Peter's, Francis, in simple dress, greeted the people informally and asked them to pray over him before he blessed them.

His simple style was linked to a full-throated attack on clericalism.

He told cardinals and bishops not to act like princes.

Leadership means service, he told them.

Shepherds should smell like their sheep.

Clergy were to be "gentle, patient and merciful" with an "outward simplicity and austerity of life."

Although Francis became known for his compassion and kindness, this did not apply to the clergy, with whom he could be very tough.

Here he sounded like the authoritarian director of novices and Jesuit provincial that he once was.

This became especially true in the manner he removed bishops who had not dealt forthrightly with sexual abuse.

Laity

Linked to this attack on clericalism was his desire to empower the laity.

Do we give the laity "the freedom to continue discerning, in a way befitting their growth as disciples, the mission which the Lord has entrusted to them?" he asked.

"Do we support them and accompany them, overcoming the temptation to manipulate them or infantilise them?"

Francis also opened up the church to conversation and debate in a way that had not been seen in the church since the Second Vatican Council.

Fearing the church had become too chaotic, John Paul had used Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger to clamp down on priests and theologians who wanted to continue discussing doctrinal issues in the wake of Vatican II.

Francis, on the other hand, held that "open and fraternal debate makes theological and pastoral thought grow. That doesn't frighten me. What's more, I look for it."

This freed theologians to talk about how the church could present the gospel message in an understandable way in the 21st century.

Curia

Francis was also critical of the curia's control over what happened at the synod of bishops.

He recalled being told what could and could not be discussed at a synod he was involved in leading.

The synods had become not forums for advising the pope but places for participants to show their loyalty to the pontiff and the Vatican.

At his first synod as pope, he told the participants, "Speak clearly. Let no one say, ‘This can't be said'. … Everything we feel must be said, with parrhesia (boldness)."

He used the Greek word "parrhesia" describing how St Paul addressed St Peter at what could be called the first synod in Jerusalem, when the disciples discussed the obligation of Gentile Christians to follow traditional Jewish practices.

In other words, Francis told the synod participants, "treat me the way St Paul treated St Peter."

Ironically, conservatives used this new freedom to attack the pope for allowing free debate.

Those who had labelled as dissenters anyone who questioned the actions or teachings of John Paul and Benedict now became vocal in their dissent.

"Loyalists" became rebels, showing that their true loyalty was not to the papacy but to their own opinions.

Church

Francis also changed the pastoral priorities of the church.

He wanted a poor church for the poor, one that would serve, accompany and defend the poor. He described the church as a field hospital for the wounded, not country club for the rich and beautiful. His stress was on compassion, mercy and reconciliation.

He felt that the church's message was too complicated. "We lose people because they don't understand what we are saying, because we have forgotten the language of simplicity," he said.

And while others blamed the faithful or the culture for the exodus from the church, Francis feared that people saw the church as "too weak, … distant from their needs, … cold, … caught up with itself, … a prisoner of its own rigid formulas, … a relic of the past, unfit for new questions."

Priorities

For Francis, the first words of evangelisation are about God's love and compassion.

We should preach the gospel, not the catechism or a rule book.

As the Gospel of Matthew teaches us, living the faith (orthopraxis) is more important than how we talk about faith (orthodoxy).

Francis also changed the public priorities of the church.

In an interview during his first year in office, he said he would not obsess over abortion, gay marriage and birth control since everyone knows what the church teaches on these topics.

Rather he attacked unregulated capitalism and globalisation.

He criticised war and called for peace.

In words and actions, he defended migrants, refugees and the marginalised.

He continued and advanced the work of John Paul in inter-religious dialogue, meeting and issuing joint statements with the top Shia leader in Iraq and the top Sunni leader in Egypt.

Finally, he wholeheartedly embraced the environmental movement and called on the church and the world to deal with global warming.

Francis is not perfect

Although I love and support Francis, he is not perfect.

His language about women drives First World feminists nuts.

One might call him a Third World feminist because he is concerned about human trafficking and poverty, not language.

He will promote women to positions of power in the church bureaucracy but will not ordain them priests.

Nor has he completed the work of curial reform.

Rather than firing people who are incompetent or disloyal, he calls them to conversion.

The church is terrible at human resource management. It tends to be either authoritarian or too gentle, paternalistic or bureaucratic.

Nor has he been willing to spend the money on the lay expertise necessary to reform Vatican finances.

Cleaning up the Vatican bank cost over a million dollars in accounting fees. Cleaning up the rest of the Vatican finances will have similar costs. Forensic accountants are not cheap.

Looking ahead

Although Francis is 86, his papacy is not over.

The Synod on Synodality is on track to meet in October this year and again next year.

For Francis, I believe, the synodal process is more important than any decisions that come out of the synod.

He hopes the process will transform the church into a synodal one.

This will disappoint progressive Catholics who want results: married priests, women priests and changes in church teaching on sex and gender.

Francis is not a miracle worker.

Because he has not won over large numbers of bishops and clergy to his vision for the church, his impact has been limited.

People love Francis but often do not see him in those leading their parishes or dioceses.

As Francis continues to the end of his papacy, he will likely be attacked from the right and the left.

Conservatives are already plotting to make sure there is a return to something like the papacies of Benedict and John Paul.

There are even rumours that "opposition research" is being done to dig up dirt on cardinals who might continue down Francis' path.

And yet the odds still favour continuity between this pope and the next; Francis has already appointed two-thirds of the cardinal electors and still has time to appoint more.

No matter who is elected, the impact of Francis on the papacy will be long-lasting.

Like Vatican II, he has opened windows that are difficult to close.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

This, along with declining belief in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, has caused great concern among Catholic bishops, who have launched a Eucharistic revival effort.

During the first half of the 20th century, church attendance by Catholics was very high, higher than that of Protestants.

Catholics then believed that it was a mortal sin to miss Mass on Sunday, and unless you went to confession, you could die and go to hell.

This filled Catholic churches despite boring homilies and a Mass in Latin that the people did not understand.

During the same period, American Catholics were taught in the Baltimore Catechism that the bread and wine were turned into the body and blood of Christ, a teaching that was explained using terms like transubstantiation.

For true believers, this was an opportunity to adore Christ and be sanctified in Communion.

For nominal Catholics, it was a meaningless ritual to be endured.

Today church attendance is down, and few priests threaten those who sleep in on Sunday with hellfire.

Polls show that belief in the real presence is also down as well.

The language of transubstantiation, dependent on Aristotelian metaphysics, is meaningless to Americans who do not learn Greek philosophy in school.

Catholic liberals had hoped that the liturgical reforms after the Second Vatican Council would produce beautiful and meaningful liturgies that would keep the faithful coming to church.

Catholics overwhelmingly approved putting the liturgy into English, but liturgical renewal petered out under the papacy of John Paul II.

English translations became stilted, creativity was discouraged and experimentation was forbidden. Seminary training stressed observing the rubrics rather than understanding liturgical reform.

Liturgical music did experience an explosion of creativity, much of it good but some of it awful.

Unlike evangelical Christian megachurches, Catholic parishes tried to do music on the cheap with volunteers and underpaid professionals.

The multicultural nature of American Catholicism made it difficult to find music that was acceptable to the variety of age and ethnic groups that make up a parish community.

Granted this history, what would an effective Eucharistic revival look like?

First, the revival must begin with the hierarchy and the clergy, who must listen to the concerns of the laity and not just those who want the old Latin Mass back.

Second, the bishops need to consult with experts who understand liturgical and theological thinking that has developed since the Second Vatican Council.

Any attempt to return to the piety of the 1950s is bound to fail. In fact, some of the old piety that focused solely on the real presence was based on bad theology.

Since my critics often accuse me of heresy, before I go further, let me affirm that I believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. I just don't believe in transubstantiation because I don't believe in prime matter, substantial forms and accidents that are part of Aristotelian metaphysics.

Thomas Aquinas used Aristotelianism, the avant-garde philosophy of his time, to explain the Eucharist to his generation.

What worked in the 13th century will not work today.

If he were alive today, he would not use Aristotelianism because nobody grasps it in the 21st century.

So, first, forget transubstantiation.

Better to admit that Christ's presence in the Eucharist is an unexplainable mystery that our little minds cannot comprehend.

Second, remember the purpose of the Eucharist is not to worship Jesus.

The Eucharistic prayer is directed to the Father through Christ, with Christ and in Christ.

The emphasis on the consecration in old sacramental theology overshadowed what the Eucharist is about.

In the ancient church, people received Communion at every Eucharist they attended.

After the fourth century, the practice of receiving declined.

People felt unworthy to approach such an awesome presence.

Also, spouses were expected to abstain from sex before receiving.

Beginning in the early Middle Ages, people were told to go to confession before Communion.

An emphasis on worshipping Jesus in the sacrament further discouraged reception. The priest was seen as receiving for the whole community.

With the laity commonly abstaining from Communion, the elevation of the consecrated host became the high point of the Mass.

Today, that is still true for many Catholics in parishes where bells are rung and the priest holds up the host as high as he can for an extended period of time so that the people can adore Jesus.

It was only in the 20th century that regularly receiving Communion was again encouraged among Catholics.

If you want to adore Christ in the Eucharist, go to Benediction, not to Mass.

Confusing these two church practices is a big mistake.

The Eucharist, based on the Jewish Passover, was instituted by Christ; Benediction was instituted by the church at a time when few people went to Communion.

We should remember that nowhere in the Gospels does Jesus tell his disciples to adore him.

Rather, he directs our attention to his Father.

Adoring Jesus in Benediction is OK, but it is not what the Mass is about.

Third, the Eucharist is not about me and Jesus; it is about us in the Christian community, about us being transformed into the body of Christ, about us joining in the mission of Jesus in the world.

When I was in high school in the late 1950s and early '60s, I went to the daily 6:30 a.m. Mass, where Communion was given before Mass for those who had to go to work right away.

Some, including myself, would receive at the beginning of Mass and then stay for the rest of the Mass.

For us, this seemed better because we had Jesus inside us for the entire Mass.

We had no understanding of the true meaning of the Eucharist.

I fear that if this option were offered today, many Catholics would choose it.

So, what should we think about the Eucharist?

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

Most Catholics see it as the priest's prayer that is centred on the consecration of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ.

Many priests use Eucharistic Prayer II, the shortest of the 13 versions of the prayer approved for use in the Catholic liturgy, and they recite it so quickly that if you blink you find yourself standing for the Lord's Prayer before you know it.

Ironically, this prayer is attributed to Hippolytus, the first antipope, who opposed translating the Mass from Greek into the vulgar Latin.

In my column last week, I noted that the Liturgy of the Word was a Christian version of the synagogue service.

To understand the Liturgy of the Eucharist, we need to realize that it is based on the Passover meal and other ritual meals like the Seder as celebrated by Jews.

At such meals, the father or head of the family says a prayer giving thanks and praise to God for his actions in the world on behalf of the people of Israel: for creation, for liberating his people from Egypt, for his covenant with Israel, for sending the prophets, etc.

When Jewish Christians gathered for a meal in memory of Jesus, they naturally prayed in the same way, except they also praised and thanked the Father for sending Jesus who taught, died and was raised for our salvation.

This is what we do in the Eucharistic prayer.

The word "eucharist" comes from the Greek word for thanksgiving.

The prayer begins with the exhortation: "Lift up your hearts. … Let us give thanks to the Lord our God." The "Lord" in the Eucharistic prayer is the Father.

The Eucharistic prayer is addressed to the Father, not to Jesus.

This is why the current acclamations addressed to Jesus after the consecration ("We proclaim your Death, Oh Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again.") are out of place.

They are a hangover from seeing the Eucharist as a place to worship Jesus (about which, see the first column in this series, "The Eucharist is about more than the real presence".)

If the Eucharistic prayer is about Jesus, it is one that gives thanks and praise to the Father for all his actions in the world, but especially for sending his Son as our saviour.

Remembering, thanking and praising goes from the beginning of the prayer all the way through the narrative drawn from the Last Supper and the recalling of the death, resurrection and enthronement of Jesus at the right hand of the Father.

Seen in this way, the institutional narrative (consecration) is not something dropped in the middle of some extraneous prayers, but is part of the history of God's action in the world for which we give thanks.

For the Jews, the Passover and Seder are not simply times to remember the past, but also sacrificial meals that reaffirm their acceptance of the same covenant that God offered to their ancestors. Through eating the sacrifice, the Jews were united with God, entered into communion with God and renewed their covenant commitment.

So too with Christians.

The Eucharist, more than a thanksgiving for the past, unites us with the sacrifice of Christ and renews the covenant the Father offered us in Jesus. Remembering, thanking and praising of the Father in the Eucharistic prayer is followed by uniting ourselves with Christ's offering to the Father.

The Eucharistic prayer is sometimes referred to as the "anaphora," which comes from the Greek "anaphero," "I offer up."

The sacrificial nature of the Eucharist takes up only a few lines in the Eucharistic prayers, which is why priests should say them slowly and reverently.

Eucharistic Prayer II says, "As we celebrate the memorial of his death and resurrection, we offer you, Lord, the Bread of Life and the chalice of salvation." (I am using the current church translations, which regrettably are poorly done.)

Likewise, Eucharistic Prayer III says, "We offer you in thanksgiving this holy and living sacrifice."

And it continues, "Look, we pray, upon the oblation of your church … "

Eucharistic Prayer IV: "We offer you his Body and Blood, the sacrifice acceptable to you which brings salvation to the whole world."

Eucharistic Prayer I, the old Roman canon, uses more flowery language: "We, your servants and your holy people, offer to your glorious majesty from the gifts that you have given us, this pure victim, this holy victim, this spotless victim, the holy Bread of eternal life and the chalice of everlasting salvation."

It goes on with references to the sacrifices of Abel, Abraham and Melchizedek.

The two Eucharistic Prayers for Reconciliation emphasize the reconciliation that comes from the sacrifice and the four Eucharistic Prayers for Use in Masses for Various Needs makes explicit the Eucharist's connection to the sacrifice of Christ.

But the sacrifice is not just something we are to be passive observers of.

By receiving Communion, we are united with the sacrifice of Christ and transformed by his Spirit.

This next section of the Eucharistic Prayers is called by the Greek word "Epiclesis," for the calling down of the Spirit on those who receive the body and blood of Christ.

All of the prayers following the Epiclesis are petitions for how we want the Spirit to transform us, the Christian people: that we might be united as one body, that we might continue the work of Christ in the world and that we might be worthy to join the saints in heaven.

There is an earlier Epiclesis before the institutional narrative, where the Spirit is called down upon the bread and wine.

Some Christians, like Cyril of Jerusalem, believed this, not the consecration, changed the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ.

Others believed that the entire Eucharistic prayer is consecratory.

Augustine and Thomas Aquinas popularised in the West the view that the bread and wine changed at the consecration.

But there is a Eucharistic prayer without a consecration used by the Assyrian Church of the East, which Rome recognizes as valid.

According to the New Dictionary of Sacramental Worship, "New Lutheran, Episcopal, Methodist, and Presbyterian eucharistic prayers have opted for the West Syrian pattern of placing a Spirit-epiclesis after the words of institution.

These epicleses typically do not ask the Holy Spirit to change the bread and wine.

Still, they do connect the Spirit working through the gifts of communion to effect unity, forgiveness, life and salvation along the lines of the most primitive anaphora."

After giving so much attention to the offering, Eucharistic Prayer I gives little attention to the transforming impact of Communion, perhaps because for centuries, few people went to Communion.

Unlike the other Eucharistic prayers, this prayer does not even mention the Spirit: "so that all of us, who through this participation at the altar receive the most holy Body and Blood of your Son, may be filled with every grace and heavenly blessing." Epiclesis may be implied but is not explicit.

In the other Eucharistic prayers, the Epiclesis is explicit but brief.

Again, priests need to recite these sections slowly so that people notice them.

In Eucharistic Prayer II, we pray that the Spirit gather us into one and help the church to "spread throughout the world" and experience "the fullness of charity."

Eucharistic Prayer III asks "that we, who are nourished by the Body and Blood of your Son and filled with his Holy Spirit, may become one body, one spirit in Christ."

Eucharistic Prayer IV prays, "Grant in your loving kindness to all who partake of this one Bread and one chalice that, gathered into one body by the Holy Spirit, they may truly become a living sacrifice in Christ to the praise of your glory."

The two Eucharistic Prayers for Reconciliation give more stress to the role of the Holy Spirit in reconciliation.

The four Eucharistic Prayers for Uses in Masses for Various Needs also have an Epiclesis.

My favourite is the third, which uses language from Vatican II to show how we want the Spirit to transform those who receive the Body of Christ:

"Grant that all the faithful of the Church, looking into the signs of the times by the light of faith, may constantly devote themselves to the service of the Gospel. Keep us attentive to the needs of all that, sharing in their grief and pain, their joy and hope, we may faithfully bring them the good news of salvation and go forward with them along the way of your kingdom."

The Eucharistic prayers conclude by returning to praise the Father through Jesus Christ, his Son. "Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours, forever and ever."

In short, in the Eucharistic prayer, we give praise and thanks to God for his actions in the world, especially his sending of his Son.

We unite ourselves with Christ's sacrifice in worshipping the Father. We ask for the Spirit to transform us into the body of Christ so that we can continue his mission in the world.

This is summed by liturgical scholars using the Greek terminology of eucharistia (thanking), anaphora (offering) and epiclesis (calling down the Spirit).

The Eucharistic prayer tells us what the Eucharist is all about.

It is giving thanks and praise to God; it is being united with the sacrifice of Christ for our salvation; and it is being transformed by the power of the Spirit so that we can continue his work in the world.

This makes Communion not an individual devotion but the community's worship of the Father and a transformative experience that turns individuals into what we eat, the body of Christ.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

We might even say the first Christians were Jewish heretics because, unlike their fellow Jews, they believed Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah.

After Pentecost, the Jewish Christians continued to go to the temple to pray.

If they were outside of Jerusalem, they would go to the synagogue on the Sabbath and on Sunday they would gather for a meal, imitating the Last Supper celebrated by Jesus.

Because they kept talking about Jesus as the Messiah, their fellow Jews finally got fed up and kicked them out of the synagogue.

My guess is that these excommunicated Jews started meeting on the Sabbath for their own synagogue service.

Like their fellow Jews, they would read from the Jewish Scriptures, hear a sermon, say prayers and sing psalms. But to this service they added stories about Jesus, which became the Gospels, and letters from Christian leaders like Paul.

At some point, people started complaining, "Why do we have to meet twice? Can't we combine these two services?"

Thus, the adapted synagogue service became the Liturgy of the Word followed by a meal that was modeled on the last Passover celebrated by Jesus.

Today's Christian Eucharist is a combination of the Jewish synagogue service and Passover meal as adapted by the early Jewish Christians. If we forget our Jewish roots, we will never understand the Eucharist or anything else about Christianity.

The reform of the liturgy after Vatican II had a tremendous impact on the Liturgy of the Word.

When I was a child, the liturgy was in Latin and the selection of Scripture readings was very limited.

During weekday Masses, we often heard the parable of the wise and foolish virgins because that Gospel was used on the feast day of a virgin saint. In any case, the priest in preaching would often ignore the readings.

After Vatican II, the service was put into English so people could understand the Scripture readings and prayers.

The homilist was encouraged to preach on the readings, not on some extraneous topic. And a new lectionary was created so that over a three-year period, the Sunday readings would present a more comprehensive selection of Scripture readings.

Likewise, the weekday readings presented much of the Bible over a two-year cycle.

After centuries of neglect, Catholics are being encouraged to read the Scriptures, something Protestants still do at greater rates than Catholics.

Catholicism today has some of the best Scripture scholarship in the world, but sadly little of that gets down to the parish level.

Seminaries still do a poor job of training priests to preach on the Scriptures.

Bible study is not a big part of parish life as it is in evangelical churches.

One of the best ways to prepare for the Eucharist is to study and pray over the Scripture readings before going to church.

The structure of the Liturgy of the Word is one of "proclamation and response."

Keeping this in mind helps us understand what parts of the liturgy need emphasis and what can be downplayed.

For example, the confession of sins at the beginning of the liturgy is not essential.

It actually puts the "response" ahead of the proclamation of the Scriptures.

It can also put the congregation on a roller coaster when, after a joyous opening song, the people are told to think about how bad they are and their need of forgiveness.

Then we go up again, singing or reciting the Gloria. All of this before we hear the Scriptures.

The responsorial psalm is a response to the first reading and the homily should help the congregation understand how to respond to the proclaimed Word.

The homily should explain the Scriptures and help the congregants apply what they have heard to their lives.

Jesus told us about the Father's love and our duty to respond to his love with love for him and our neighbor. The homilist should do the same.

The creed can also be seen as a response to the Scriptures, but originally the creed was part of Baptism, not the Eucharist.

It was added to the Western liturgy by Pope Benedict VIII at the insistence of Emperor Henry II in 1014.

Overemphasizing the creed can limit our response to an intellectual assent rather than a life of Christian action.

The prayers of the faithful should also be a response to the Word we have heard, turning to our loving Father as proclaimed in the Scriptures and asking him to help us and our brothers and sisters.

In ancient time, the prayers of the faithful often ended with the Lord's Prayer and a kiss.

Early Christians often concluded prayers with a kiss, just as a family might conclude saying the rosary with hugs and kisses. Tertullian (d. 220) asks, "What prayer is complete without the holy kiss?" For him, the kiss was an affirmation, an "Amen," to everything that went before it.

The kiss at the end of the Liturgy of the Word was a sign of our common commitment to our covenant with God as described in the Scriptures.

It was a "shaking on a deal."

It is possible that Christians ended their synagogue service with a kiss while it was still on Saturday, before the service was joined to the Christian meal on Sunday.

When the services were joined, the kiss remained and some then reinterpreted it in the context of Matthew 5:23-24: "if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift."

But its original meaning was an affirmation of what went before, not a preparation for what followed.

However, when the Lord's Prayer was moved closer to Communion, the kiss went along with it.

During the pope's recent visit to Congo (Jan. 31 to Feb. 3), we see a different arrangement of the Liturgy of the Word.

The Congolese Rite begins with an invocation of saints and ancestors who are asked to "Be with us" as we celebrate the Eucharist.

The penitential rite and sign of peace come after the homily, which better fits the "proclamation/response" ideal.

My only problem with this sequence is that it makes confession of sin the only possible response to the Scripture readings.

The Scriptures call us to do a lot of things other than confess our sins.

It especially calls us to follow the example of Christ in living lives of justice, healing and love.

It calls us to continue his mission in the world.

Sin does not have to be the principal focus of every Liturgy of the Word.

Proclamation and response are at the core of the Liturgy of the Word.

The Word is proclaimed, and we are called to respond.

An integral part of that response is celebrating the Eucharist.

We respond to the Word by celebrating the Eucharist, in which we give praise and thanks to the Father for his actions in the world.

We unite ourselves with Christ's sacrifice and pray that by the power of the Eucharist we may be transformed into the Body of Christ continuing his mission of love and justice in the world.

But that is for next week's column.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

The memo, published on a Vatican blog last March under the pseudonym "Demos," was circulated to members of the College of Cardinals in anticipation of the next conclave. After the cardinal's death it was revealed as Pell's work by the Italian journalist Sandro Magister.

Pell first came on my radar screen when Francis put him in charge of Vatican finances. My friends Down Under, where he had been archbishop of Melbourne and Sydney, were happy to see him go to Rome because he had been more pugnacious than pastoral. A former Australian rules football player, he was always ready for a brawl with anyone who opposed him.

Although these are not the qualities you look for in a bishop, they were exactly the qualities needed for someone reforming Vatican finances. The pope needed someone who would not be intimidated by high-ranking clerics with fancy titles, someone willing to take on an entrenched bureaucracy.

I thought the appointment was brilliant. It got him out of Sydney and put him where his talents fit the job. I did not care about his theological views as long as he rooted out corruption and inefficiency in the Vatican.

Pell was attacked by insiders for not understanding the culture of the Vatican, for not understanding how things work. But Pell did not come to Rome to make friends. He came to upset the status quo, and I cheered him on.

When he was accused of abusing an altar boy, I neither condemned him nor defended him. I was willing to let the Australian justice system do its job. Australia's highest court eventually ruled in his favour.

Pell did not hide the fact that he was a doctrinal conservative who opposed modifications that made the church more pastorally sensitive to people in complex situations, such as LGBTQ and divorced Catholics. Since Francis had urged members of the synod of bishops to speak boldly and not be afraid of disagreeing with him, I cannot criticize Pell for speaking his mind.

But in authoring an anonymous memorandum attacking Francis, Pell crossed a line.

By not taking responsibility for the memo, Pell for the first time in his life showed himself a coward. He was not willing to publicly stand behind his words. This was totally against character for a man who never avoided a fight. What a disappointment.

Second, Pell seemed to have forgotten that Francis was the one who called him to Rome to be part of his team. Francis encouraged open discussion and debate but expected his team to support his decisions.

It is one thing to argue with the pope behind closed doors; it is another thing to stab him in the back. In his memo, Pell refers to the Francis papacy as a "disaster" and a "catastrophe." You don't do that to your boss, especially when he had stood by you when you were indicted. Shame.

Third, Pell forgot that he was a bishop, not an op-ed writer. His memorandum is a diatribe of indictments, not a reasoned argument.

Compare this memo to the writings of Cardinal Walter Kasper and Archbishop John Quinn. Both of those prelates were known to have disagreements with Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, but they wrote in a fraternal and scholarly tone that respected the papal office. Pell, on the other hand, joined Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò in mudslinging. What a disgrace.

During the papacies of John Paul and Benedict, conservatives accused anyone who disagreed with them of being heretics or of being "cafeteria Catholics," who picked and chose which teachings they would accept. Many of these conservatives were themselves cafeteria Catholics, for that matter, because they ignored John Paul's and Benedict's teaching on economic justice, peace and the environment. Their hypocrisy became even more evident with their rejection of Francis.

In a September 27, 2021, column, I offered five rules for disagreeing with the pope. They are worth repeating:

• First, be respectful.
• Second, if you disagree with a pope, be sure to emphasize the positive things that he has done.
• Third, describe the pope's position accurately and completely; do not create a straw man that can be easily knocked down.
• Fourth, never speak or write when you are emotionally upset.
• Fifth, ask yourself, would you speak this way to a parent or someone you love?

Our internal church discussions should follow the same rules as our ecumenical dialogue: Disagreements should lead to fuller knowledge and improvements and ultimately consensus.

That way, as the old song goes, "They will know that we are Christians by our love," rather than knowing we are Catholics by our fights.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

After Benedict's resignation, his papal seal and fisherman's ring were wisely broken, as would have happened if he had died.

But other decisions about what he would be called, what he would wear and where he would live were made quickly and without any consultation with theologians and canon lawyers.

The retired pope became "Pope Emeritus Benedict," and he continued to wear the white cassock and to live in the Vatican.

Because these decisions were largely made by Benedict himself, as long as Benedict was alive, any effort to establish formal protocols could be seen as a criticism of him.

Any new rules that forced him to change his way of life would have been seen as demeaning, even vindictive.

Now that Benedict is dead, the church needs to set those protocols. Pope Francis can issue new rules that will apply to him, should he retire, and to his successors without disturbing his predecessor. Ideally, a draft proposal of these protocols would be circulated for discussion prior to its codification in church law.

The protocols should be informed by the confusion caused by the experience of having a pope emeritus.

When sitting side by side, dressed in white, Benedict and Francis looked like equals. Even the kindness and deference Francis showed Benedict made it seem as if the church had two popes.

The media, which thrives on controversy, scrutinised Benedict's few public words and actions for signs of disagreement with Francis.

Archconservatives tried to use the pope emeritus as a foil against the new pope, whom they did not like, and though Benedict condemned such actions, he could not stop them.

None of this was good for church unity. Both conservatives, like Cardinal George Pell, and progressives, like myself, called for protocols that would more clearly show that there is only one pope in the Catholic Church.

Although the church has no rules for how retired popes should act, there are rules for retired bishops that provide a model for retired popes. After all, the pope is the bishop of Rome.

"The Directory for the Pastoral Ministry of Bishops" states:

For his part, the Bishop Emeritus will be careful not to interfere in any way, directly or indirectly, in the governance of the diocese. He will want to avoid every attitude and relationship that could even hint at some kind of parallel authority to that of the diocesan Bishop, with damaging consequences for the pastoral life and unity of the diocesan community. To this end, the Bishop Emeritus always carries out his activity in full agreement with the diocesan Bishop and in deference to his authority. In this way all will understand clearly that the diocesan Bishop alone is the head of the diocese, responsible for its governance.

This paragraph could easily be modified to urge retired popes to avoid even hinting at some kind of parallel authority to that of the reigning pope. For the most part, Benedict followed this practice.

Canon law provides that "a bishop whose resignation from office has been accepted retains the title of emeritus of his diocese and can retain a place of residence in that diocese if he so desires, unless in certain cases the Apostolic See provides otherwise because of special circumstances."

Under this canon, if the pope were simply the bishop of Rome, he would be known as the emeritus bishop of Rome when he retired. He would be allowed to live in the diocese, which would be responsible for providing him with "suitable and decent support."

Having the retired pope live in the Vatican causes some confusion, but the alternative is also problematic because his new residence could become a pilgrimage destination for dissidents wanting to rally opposition to the new pope.

My own preference would be to have him retire to Castel Gandolfo, an extraterritorial property of the Vatican 16 miles southeast of Rome.

This used to be a summer residence for the pope, but Francis has not used it. If this location became a rallying place for dissidents, he could always move back to the Vatican.

But there are aspects of the papal office that are unique for which there are no episcopal equivalents.

Popes change their names when they become pope, as Joseph Ratzinger became Benedict XVI.

They wear white instead of purple like bishops or red like cardinals.

These symbolic changes make the pope stand out as unique in the Catholic Church.

But as symbols of the papal office, a pope should put them aside when he retires.

Cardinal Gianfranco Ghirlanda, a preeminent canon lawyer who for decades advised Vatican dicasteries and was dean of canon law at the Gregorian University in Rome, noted, "Having two people with the title of ‘pope,' even if one added ‘emeritus,' it cannot be said that this might not generate confusion in public opinion."

Despite the double negatives, his meaning is clear. Using the title emeritus pope can generate confusion among the public.

He suggested titles like "former Roman pontiff" or "former supreme pontiff," while others preferred simply "emeritus bishop of Rome."

To further eliminate confusion, I believe it is necessary for a retired pope to return to his baptismal name until he dies. When referring to his actions as pope, we should use his papal name, but for his actions after resignation, we should use his original name, just as we would use his original name when describing his life before becoming pope.

He might even rejoin the college of cardinals but as a non-voting member.

Finally, he should put aside his papal garments and use those of a retired bishop or cardinal.

Symbols are important in the Catholic Church. After the election of a new pope, nothing would be clearer than to have the retired pope, dressed as a cardinal, kissing the new pope's ring and swearing allegiance to him along with the other cardinals. This would make it clear that there is only one pope in the Catholic Church.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

No, I was not being interrogated by the Grand Inquisitor.

This was long before I got in trouble with the Vatican as editor-in-chief of America magazine.

I was in Rome to interview him and other church officials for my book, "Inside the Vatican: The Politics and Organization of the Catholic Church."

I almost missed the interview.

Cardinal Ratzinger was sick the day of our appointment.

When I arrived, I was asked whether I wanted to meet with the congregation's secretary.

I agreed, figuring it was better than nothing.

When I was ushered into his presence, I hadn't gotten a word out before the secretary, Archbishop Alberto Bovone, assaulted me with questions: "Who are you?" "What are you doing here?" "I will decide whether you can see Cardinal Ratzinger."

"But the cardinal already agreed to see me," I stuttered.

That meant nothing to him; he demanded a list of questions I was going to ask.

He then assigned a young Dominican to interrogate me.

Jesuits being interrogated by Dominicans working for the Inquisition has a long and unhappy history.

On the other hand, Dominicans have also come to our rescue.

When Lorenzo Ricci, the Jesuit superior general died in 1775 after being imprisoned in Rome's Castel Sant'Angelo by the pope, the top Dominican was the only one willing to preside at his funeral.

The tradition has continued ever since.

In any case, I was handed over to the Dominican, who, it seemed, was already on my side. During my interrogation by Bovone, he made faces and rolled his eyes behind the secretary's back.

Rather than interrogate me, he advised me on what to do. "Write a letter to the cardinal. Explain that you are leaving at the end of the week and that you would like to meet with him for 15 minutes."

I wrote the letter as soon as I got back to my room, faxed it to the CDF and got a new appointment.

Ratzinger agreed to meet with me in the afternoon when Vatican offices are usually closed.

The interview went more than an hour.

I learned a lot about Ratzinger before the interview even began. He was kind and willing to go out of his way to help a young scholar, even at a time he was not feeling well.

On the other hand, having a bully as his No. 2 man showed either blindness on Ratzinger's part or an unhealthy dependence on people who, though loyal, were not fit for their jobs.

Neither as prefect nor as pope was he good at choosing his subordinates.

When we sat down for the interview, Ratzinger asked whether I wanted to do it in German or Italian.

With a panicked voice I said, "English would be much better."

He agreed, saying "My English is very limited."

In fact, it was excellent.

Only once during the interview did he struggle for a word.

He told me that he was at first undecided whether to accept the position as head of the congregation. Pope John Paul II had to ask him three times before he said yes.

"Give me time, Holy Father," he told John Paul. "I am a diocesan bishop; I have to be in my diocese."

He ultimately agreed to come to Rome in 1982.

In our interview, he spoke of fostering a dialogue between theologians and his office, but theologians who lost their jobs or were silenced by him did not experience it that way. He was upset by the insulting language of attacks on his office, even if he could laugh at the situation.

(I should have remembered this years later before foolishly referring to the "inquisitional" procedures of his congregation in an editorial in America.)

What is most striking about the interview today was his admission, "I do not have charism about structural problems."

In other words, Ratzinger was at heart a scholar not a manager, but he would become head of a billion-member organization with a hierarchical structure and a complex bureaucracy in Rome.

In 1998, after my book was published, I became editor-in-chief of America, a magazine first published by Jesuits in 1909. My goal was to make it "A magazine for thinking Catholics and those who want to know what Catholics are thinking."

Although almost always careful in editorials to stick to the Vatican line, I thought I could publish alternative views in the opinion section of the magazine if I insisted that these articles did not necessarily represent the views of the magazine.

We were, after all, a journal of opinion.

During my seven years as editor, the CDF published important documents on which I asked relevant scholars to comment. They usually praised the parts they liked, and criticized those they did not.

I was always happy to publish critical responses to these articles.

I also published articles by many bishops and cardinals, including then Archbishop Raymond Burke, whom I invited to explain why the church should deny Communion to pro-choice Catholic politicians. I asked Chicago Cardinal Francis George, a prominent conservative, a half dozen times to write something for us, but he always refused.

A high point of the magazine as a forum for dialogue was a submission by Cardinal Walter Kasper, the head of the Vatican ecumenical office, criticizing the ecclesiology of Cardinal Ratzinger.

As the article was going to the printers, I sent a copy to Ratzinger, inviting his response.

At first, he declined, but later changed his mind and sent a response in German, which we had translated and published.

We were delighted to have two prominent cardinals debating an important issue in the pages of America, but later I learned that Cardinal George complained about the exchange and asked the Vatican Secretary of State to tell the cardinals not to debate in America because it scandalises the faithful.

Despite my attempts to be fair, it became apparent that neither John Paul nor Cardinal Ratzinger wanted a journal of opinion unless it reflected their opinions.

After two and a half years as editor, I heard from the Jesuit superior general, Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, that the Vatican was unhappy with an article on AIDS and condoms written by Jesuit theologian James Keenan and Jesuit physician Jon Fuller.

I would have been happy to publish a rebuttal from anyone in the Vatican, but I never received anything directly from the congregation.

The congregation always communicated with me through my Jesuit superiors.

In June 2001, I was told that the congregation found "Father Reese's way of criticising the Holy See, and particularly the congregation, aggressive and offensive."

In particular, they took issue with an editorial we ran on due process in the church (April 9, 2001).

We were accused of being anti-hierarchical.

At the end of February 2002, Father Kolvenbach said that CDF had decided to impose a commission of ecclesiastical censors on America "at the request of American bishops and the nuncio."

The censors would be three American bishops.

Not only was this a bad idea, it was totally impractical, since we published weekly.

In April, I received a list of items published in America that the congregation did not like.

They included a book review by Jesuit historian John O'Malley of "Papal Sins," the article by Keenan and Fuller, an article on homosexual priests by Jesuit James Martin and articles on the CDF document, "Dominus Iesus," by Francis X. Clooney, Michael A. Fahey, Peter Chirico, and Francis A. Sullivan.

Ratzinger seemed to have a thin skin when it came to documents coming out of his congregation.

Only two editorials were mentioned — one on "Dominus Iesus" (Oct. 28, 2000) and the other on "the abortion pill," RU-486 (Oct. 14, 2000). We condemned the abortion drug but hinted that it might be time to rethink the church's teaching on birth control as a way of reducing the number of abortions.

Interestingly, America's extensive and forceful coverage of the sex abuse crisis was never mentioned by the congregation, though I knew that some American bishops did not like it.

Ratzinger, although not perfect, was better than anyone else in Rome on the topic.

No one could tell me which U.S. bishops had requested the censorship board.

I knew it had never come up at a meeting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. Nor was it discussed at the USCCB's administrative committee, according to my sources, among them Archbishop Thomas Kelly, who was on the committee during this time.

When I asked Bishop Donald Trautman, chair of the USCCB Committee on Doctrine, he grew furious that a censorship board was set up without consulting his committee. He planned to object vigorously.

Nor was American Archbishop John Foley, head of one of the communications offices in the Vatican, consulted.

He said that, if he were asked, he would have said it was a bad idea. He jokingly referred to himself as the "left wing of the Roman curia."

I asked for help from Archbishops Kelly, John Quinn and Daniel Pilarczyk, but they all said that they were not trusted by Rome, so their support would do no good.

Quinn and Pilarczyk had been presidents of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops and Kelly had been conference general secretary and on the staff of the papal nunciature in Washington.

I approached Jesuit Cardinal Avery Dulles, who thought a censorship board was a terrible idea. He promised to put in a good word for me with Ratzinger.

"You publish me," the very orthodox cardinal said.

Sometime before the end of July 2003, Kolvenbach met with Ratzinger and was able to talk him out of imposing a censorship board.

Kolvenbach warned me that the congregation would be watching to see how America responded to CDF's upcoming document on gay marriage.

I asked Associate Editor James Martin, who had written extensively on gays in the church, not to say anything about the document. I wanted to protect him and the magazine.

He agreed.

Our first article on the subject was on June 7, 2004, by Monsignor Robert Sokolowski, a philosopher at the Catholic University of America, who was strongly opposed to gay sex and gay marriage.

I had to talk him into dropping a paragraph comparing gay sex to sex with animals.

His article, not surprisingly, elicited strong responses, one of which came from Stephen Pope, professor of theology at Boston College.

Even though I got Pope to tone the article down a notch, and even though I allowed Sokolowski to respond to Pope in the same issue, I knew as it went to the printers that this could be the final nail in my coffin.

Although I had never opined or editorialized on the topic, it was clear that merely allowing a discussion of some issues in America was more than Ratzinger would tolerate.

Almost immediately after the publication of the December 6, 2004, issue, my American superior heard complaints from the papal nuncio in Washington. He also complained about an article on politicians, abortion and Communion by U.S. Representative Dave Obey, who had been denied Communion by Burke.

There was acknowledgement that we published articles on both sides of the "wafer war."

As 2005 progressed, the world focused on the sickness and death of John Paul and the conclave that elected Ratzinger Pope Benedict XVI. During this time, I was busy working with the media, explaining and commenting on what was happening.

Before the conclave, at an off-the-record dinner with some journalists in Rome, I was asked, "What would be your reaction if Ratzinger was elected pope?"

I responded, "How would you feel if Rupert Murdoch took over your newspaper?"

On the day of Ratzinger's election, I had already promised to appear on the PBS Newshour.

On the program, I blandly opined that some people will like the results, some won't.

After that, my response to press inquiries was "no comment," because I believed that his election was a disaster but, as Jesuit, I could not say so.

On April 19, 2005, as I heard the announcement of Ratzinger's election in St Peter's Square, I knew my tenure as editor of America was over.

For the good of the magazine and the good of the Jesuits, I had to go.

In addition, after seven years of looking over my shoulder, I had had enough.

I stopped giving interviews and left Rome.

When I got back to New York, the other Jesuits at the magazine would not let me resign.

A few days later, I met with my superior, the president of the Jesuit Conference, and learned that my time as editor was over.

Only then did I learn that back in March, Ratzinger had told the Jesuit superior general that I had to go.

For various reasons they had not gotten around to telling me.

So I resigned.

My Jesuit superiors had always been very supportive of my work, but I knew that ultimately, they could not protect me unless I was willing to compromise my values as an editor.

They had not been able to protect numerous Jesuit theologians who had been disciplined by CDF.

When the news hit the press, I was portrayed as Benedict's first victim; the truth was, I was the last victim of Cardinal Ratzinger. Because I was so well known by the media, who had frequently used me as a source, the coverage was extensive and negative toward the new pope.

The coverage was so bad that the Vatican stepped back from the planned removal of the Jesuit editor of the German journal, "Stimmen der Zeit" ("Voices of the times"). They let him serve out his term as editor.

If I were a unique case, my story would be interesting but not important in judging the legacy of Joseph Ratzinger.

Sadly, mine is only one of hundreds of examples of the repression of free inquiry by reporters and theologians during the papacies of John Paul and Benedict.

A few months before my resignation, Jacques Dupuis, a distinguished theologian who had been disciplined by Ratzinger, told us the story of his own meeting.

After the congregation had condemned one of his books, the elderly (and ill) theologian prepared a 200-page response.

When he met with Ratzinger and the CDF, he told the editors of America, they surprised him by asking him for his response.

When he pointed to the document on the table before them, which had taken him months of work, they scoffed, "You don't think we're going to read that, do you?" Dupuis died not long after our meeting.

Whether I was right or wrong in my views is irrelevant.

What matters is that after the Second Vatican Council open discussion was suppressed by Ratzinger under the papacy of John Paul.

If you did not agree with the Vatican, you were silenced.

Yet, without open conversation, theology cannot develop, and reforms cannot be made.

Without open debate, the church cannot find ways of preaching the gospel in ways understandable to people of the 21st Century.

The papacy of Pope Francis has reopened the windows of the church to allow the fresh breeze of the Spirit. Conversation and debate is possible again, even to disagreeing with the pope.

Unlike his predecessors, Francis does not silence his critics.

Change will not happen quickly enough for many in the church, but allowing the conversation to flourish is essential to preparing for reform.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

The pope poked the Russian bear in the nose, gave a convoluted response to why women cannot be priests and even had a muddled response to a question on racism in the United States.

If I had been his press secretary, I would have been pulling my hair out during much of the interview.

I would have wanted to edit the text before it was published.

Some of his responses were noncontroversial and even inspiring — for example, on how he remains joyful and happy amid crises and troubles.

His analysis of how political polarisation is un-Christian was spot on.

He also acknowledged that it is a mistake for the church to have less transparency in dealing with abusive bishops than it has with abusive priests.

As a former editor of America, I was delighted that its outgoing and new editors got an exclusive interview with the pope and that they brought three lay colleagues, including two women, with them.

Their questions were professional, with some follow-ups that didn't allow the pope to dodge the questions.

Kudos to them.

On the Russia-Ukraine war, Gerard O'Connell, America's Vatican correspondent, asked the pope why he was unwilling "to directly criticise Russia for its aggression against Ukraine, preferring to speak more generally of the need for an end to war, an end to mercenary activity rather than Russian attacks, and to the traffic in arms."

The Vatican has traditionally tried to avoid taking sides in wars in the hope that it might become a mediator for peace.

Historically, this approach has rarely been successful.

Although in this war the Vatican has facilitated exchange of prisoner lists and even of a few prisoners, the Ukrainian and American governments have criticised the pope for not condemning Putin and Russia.

"When I speak about Ukraine, I speak of a people who are martyred," he said.

"If you have a martyred people, you have someone who martyrs them."

He went on to say that he did not specifically name Putin in his condemnations of the war because "it is not necessary; it is already known."

He might as well have said that Putin was a 21st century Nero.

He tried to avoid accusing Russian soldiers of war crimes but said that the cruellest troops were the Chechens and the Buryat, who are fighting for Russia.

These comments surely pleased Ukraine, the United States and its NATO partners, but they also gave heartburn to the Vatican Secretariat of State, which had to deal with Russian outrage.

America Executive Editor Kerry Weber, while acknowledging the pope's promotion of women in the Vatican, asked, "What would you say to a woman who is already serving in the life of the church, but who still feels called to be a priest?"

The good news is that the pope avoided talk of "complementarity" and did not refer to women as the strawberries on the cake.

He is learning.

But he did drag out the convoluted ecclesiology of the Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar, which describes the Petrine and Marian aspects of the church.

In the pope's analysis, the Petrine is male and less important than the Marian or spousal, which is female.

Where laymen fit into this analysis is unclear.

If laymen are included under the Marian principle, then why can't women be included under the Petrine?

Von Balthasar's theology will convince no one who supports ordaining women.

Gloria Purvis, host of "The Gloria Purvis Podcast," asked about racism in the American church: "What would you say now to Black Catholics in the United States who experienced racism and at the same time experience a deafness within the church for calls for racial justice?"

The pope seemed unprepared for the question.

He responded with sympathy and pointed out that "the church has bishops of African American descent."

Purvis did not let the pope get away with this.

"Yes, but most of us go to parishes where the priests are not African American, and most of the other people are not African American, and they appear not to have sensitivity for our suffering. Many times they ignore our suffering. So how can we encourage Black Catholics to stay?"

The pope rambled for a bit but finally said what needed to be said.

Black Catholics "should resist and not walk away," he said.

"Racism is an intolerable sin against God. The church, the pastors and laypeople must continue fighting to eradicate it and for a more just world."

Weber asked about the American bishops, but the pope wisely avoided getting into a public spat with the conference.

However, he surprisingly threw the construct of bishops' conferences itself under the bus.

"Jesus did not create bishops' conferences," said the pope.

"Jesus created bishops, and each bishop is pastor of his people."

American progressives with short memories might applaud this putdown, but they should remember how Joseph Ratzinger, who became Benedict XVI, downplayed the theological role of episcopal conferences during the golden age of the U.S. conference when it was writing pastoral letters on peace and the economy.

The Vatican has always feared episcopal conferences because it is harder to deal with bishops as a group than individually.

The pope needs a better way to talk about bishops' conferences.

True, Jesus did not create them, but neither did he create lots of other things in the church, including ecumenical councils and the Vatican.

Everyone knows I love the pope, and I will defend him to my dying day.

The first interview he did as pope, also published in America, was a masterpiece in communication and evangelisation.

His recent interview comes across as a first draft in need of editing.

Perhaps it is the old editor in me that wants to make the text better.

But in editing, there is always the danger of smothering the voice of the author.

It is probably better to let Francis be Francis.

That does not mean that I will like everything he says or the way he says it, but I will continue to like him and be attentive to every word he says.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

Clerics, who believe they have all the answers and the power, tell the faithful what they can and cannot do.

On the other side are laity, who nod off in the pews and leave the heavy lifting to priests and religious.

The laity have never been asked to do anything but pray, pay and obey, so why bother?

That reality was sustainable, if not desirable, when there were lots of priests and religious and they were the most educated people in the parish.

Today, most parts of the world have an educated laity and so few priests and religious that the church is in serious decline.

Pope Francis has made a frontal attack on clericalism, telling bishops not to act like princes and telling priests to be more pastoral. With the Synod on Synodality, he is also calling the laity to step up and take ownership in the church.

In this process, it is especially important that the clergy listen to the laity, but it is also important that the laity listen to each other.

The U.S. bishops' report on the work so far — officially the "National Synthesis of the People of God in the United States of America for the Diocesan Phase of the 2021-2023 Synod" — released in September, summarizes 10 months of listening sessions in American parishes and dioceses.

Last month, I detailed in my column the enduring wounds that were exposed in the listening sessions.

They include "the enduring wounds caused by the clergy sexual abuse scandal, the pandemic, polarization, and marginalization have exposed a deep hunger for healing and the strong desire for communion, community, and a sense of belonging and being united."

But the listening sessions were not simply picking at old wounds.

They spoke of a longing for communion and participation in the church.

The laity is waking from its slumber and desires "to draw closer to God and each other through a deeper knowledge of Scripture, prayer, and sacramental celebrations, especially the Eucharist," the bishops wrote.

While there were different perspectives on what constitutes good liturgy, there was agreement on the need for "warmer hospitality, healing services, and more invigorating preaching by clergy."

According to the synthesis, "The most common desire named in the synodal consultations was to be a more welcoming Church where all members of the People of God can find accompaniment on the journey."

The participants in the sessions acknowledged the tension between walking with people while remaining faithful to the teachings of the church.

Yet "for many, the perception is that the blanket application of rules and policies is used as a means of wielding power or acting as a gatekeeper."

Quoting from the account of one consultation, the bishops' synthesis said, "People noted that the Church seems to prioritize doctrine over people, rules and regulations over lived reality."

That account could have been quoting Francis when it said, "People want the Church to be a home for the wounded and broken, not an institution for the perfect. They want the Church to meet people where they are, wherever they are, and walk with them rather than judging them; to build real relationships through care and authenticity, not superiority."

People needing to feel welcomed included, according to the synthesis, LGBTQ+ persons, who "believe they are condemned by Church teachings," and their families, who "feel torn between remaining in the church and supporting their loved ones."

Also divorced persons, "whether remarried or not, often feel unwelcome within the Church," according to the report.

"The annulment process is experienced as unduly burdensome and judgmental."

The divorced described "feeling like they are held to a higher standard while people who have committed other sins continue to receive communion."

Catholic people of colour "spoke of routine encounters with racism, both inside and outside the Church," the synthesis reports.

"Indigenous Catholics spoke of the generational trauma caused by racism and abuse in boarding schools."

The participants offered practical suggestions for creating more community across racial and ethnic lines.

"Providing forums for conversations on race, immigration, and loving openness to others is critical in allowing individuals to be heard and understood," was one.

Masses in different languages were mentioned, but some wondered how to share communion with all parishioners even when they celebrate separately.

"Practically all synodal consultations shared a deep ache in the wake of the departure of young people and viewed this as integrally connected to becoming a more welcoming Church," according to the report.

Young people "want the Church to speak out about issues that matter to them, especially justice, race, and climate change."

The young want to be seen not as the future of the church but as important now. They want to be given a significant voice in the present.

Finally, those taking part in the process felt the church needs to be more welcoming to women, suggesting "a variety of ways in which women could exercise leadership, including preaching and ordination as deacon or priest."

Participants "shared a deep appreciation for the powerful impact of women religious who have consistently led the way in carrying out the mission of the Church," the synthesis reports.

"There was a desire for stronger leadership, discernment, and decision-making roles for women — both lay and religious — in their parishes and communities."

Overall, the listening sessions showed no desire for a smaller, purer church.

Catholics do not seem to want to exclude the wounded or sinners. They prefer a welcoming community where all are called to communion and participation.

The people appear to be in line with Francis' desire for a welcoming church that travels together along the synodal path.

None of this will be surprising to anyone familiar with survey research on the Catholic laity.

What is new here is a papally endorsed process that allows the laity to surface their views in a public way.

The people are speaking.

Is anyone listening?

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

Synods under Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI were stage-managed affairs, where the agenda and debate were carefully controlled. Curial cardinals instructed the gathered bishops what topics could not be brought up or discussed.

Although the purpose of the synod was to advise the pope, speakers spent most of their time quoting the pope to himself: "As you so wonderfully said … "

Rather than advising the pope, the synod was an opportunity for the bishops to show their loyalty to the pope and his teaching.

Francis broke this tradition in his first synod in 2014, the Synod on the Family, where he encouraged the members to "speak boldly" and not worry about how people reacted to their words.

It is hard to overestimate how extraordinary this was.

Francis may have gotten more than he bargained for, as bishops not only disagreed with one another but also criticized the pope, something no bishop would have dared do under earlier papacies.

The heavy-handed censorship of earlier, more conservative papacies resulted in pent-up frustrations among those who wanted to continue the reforms begun at the Second Vatican Council. Conservatives, meanwhile, felt a sense of entitlement, confident that the Vatican supported their views. This allowed conservatives to criticize progressives as being unorthodox and disloyal to the pope.

All this changed under Francis.

Suddenly, conservatives saw a papacy doing things they did not like, saying things that they considered unorthodox.

Those who had prided themselves on loyalty to the papacy suddenly began attacking it. They proved loyal only when the papacy agreed with them. In this, they were no different from the progressives under John Paul or Benedict.

Progressives greeted Francis with joy as he encouraged open discussion and stressed compassion and concern for the marginalised.

But while Francis has criticized clericalism, he has not embraced the progressive push for married priests and women priests.

While he has shown openness to LGBTQ people, he has not changed the church's teaching on sexual ethics.

Nor has he reversed the condemnation of artificial contraception.

Progressives are getting impatient

As the synodal process has progressed, conservatives have openly expressed fear while progressives loudly voice their desires. Both sides have used the synodal process to push their agendas.

Francis has pushed back on what he terms "politicizing" the synodal process.

He stresses that the synodal process beginning in parishes and dioceses should be a time of prayer, listening and discernment, not a time for pushing agendas. It is about consensus building and finding God's will, not mobilizing supporters to get a majority vote for your agenda.

For Francis, you might say that the synodal process is more important than the results.

For Americans, who are result oriented, this is unintelligible.

Francis sees the experience of prayer, listening and discernment as a way of healing divisions and building the Christian community. If we are not true to the process, the results are meaningless.

Conservatives are too fearful and progressives are too impatient for such a process.

St Ignatius Loyola would say that they lack "indifference," meaning that they are too attached to their own views to be open to God's will.

Will the synodal process work?

Will it help heal divisions in the church and foster a community that can spread the gospel, care for the marginalized and heal the Earth? Or will it blow up and show the world how divided we Catholics are?

As a social scientist, I am pessimistic, but I hope and pray that Francis once again surprises us.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

Sadly, one of the things Catholics fight over is the Eucharist. In his June 29 apostolic letter to the Catholic people, Pope Francis decries this division while describing the Eucharist as the sacrament of unity.

The letter, "Desiderio Desideravi" ("I have earnestly desired"), gives full-throated support to the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council, which called for full, conscious and active participation of the laity in the Eucharist. Francis is clearly saddened by those who reject the reforms that the council found absolutely necessary.

The pope does not see the pre-Vatican II liturgy as equal to the reformed liturgy, which was meant to be the liturgy of the entire church. "I intend that this unity be re-established in the whole Church," he writes. "We cannot go back to that ritual form which the Council fathers, cum Petro et sub Petro, felt the need to reform."

The Eucharist is essential to the life of the church, according to Francis' letter. In the Eucharist, "we are guaranteed the possibility of encountering the Lord Jesus and of having the power of his Paschal Mystery reach us," he wrote. But this is done not as individuals but as a community: "The liturgy does not say ‘I' but ‘we.'"

He connects the Eucharist to Pentecost, when, according to the Book of Acts, the Christian community received the Spirit after Jesus ascended to heaven.

"It is the community of Pentecost that is able to break the Bread in the certain knowledge that the Lord is alive, risen from the dead, present with his word, with his gestures, with the offering of His Body and His Blood," he wrote.

"Only the Church of Pentecost can conceive of the human being as a person, open to a full relationship with God, with creation, and with one's brothers and sisters."

"Liturgy is about praise," requiring docility to the Holy Spirit, who appeared on Pentecost in the form of tongues of fire on the apostles' heads.

The pope said, "It does not have to do with an abstract mental process, but with becoming Him." He cites Pope Leo the Great, who wrote, "Our participation in the Body and Blood of Christ has no other end than to make us become that which we eat."

Francis does not want the Eucharist to "be spoiled by a superficial and foreshortened understanding of its value or, worse yet, by its being exploited in service of some ideological vision, no matter what the hue."

The art of celebrating the Eucharist "cannot be reduced to only a rubrical mechanism, much less should it be thought of as imaginative — sometimes wild — creativity without rules."

Both types of celebrants tend to make themselves, rather than Christ, the centre of the liturgy.

Francis speaks extensively of the paschal mystery but distinguishes this from "the vague expression ‘sense of mystery,'" which conservative critics say was removed from the liturgy by the reforms.

"The astonishment or wonder of which I speak is not some sort of being overcome in the face of an obscure reality or a mysterious rite. It is, on the contrary, marvelling at the fact that the salvific plan of God has been revealed in the paschal deed of Jesus (cf. Eph 1:3-14), and the power of this paschal deed continues to reach us in the celebration of the ‘mysteries,' of the sacraments," the pope wrote, referring to the Letter of Paul to the Ephesians.

Francis' letter contains numerous quotable lines, like those cited above, that can inspire and educate Catholics in their participation in the Eucharist, but despite Francis' intentions, this letter will be more helpful to seminary professors than the faithful at large. It is filled with exhortations on the necessity of liturgical formation, but it is not itself a catechetical work.

The letter is a heartfelt cry to end the liturgical wars and enter into the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection. Francis explicitly notes this in his first line by linking it to his 2021 motu proprio "Traditionis custodes," which put limits on the celebration of the old rite.

"The non-acceptance of the liturgical reform," he writes, "distracts us from the obligation of finding responses to the question that I come back to repeating: how can we grow in our capacity to live in full the liturgical action?

"How do we continue to let ourselves be amazed at what happens in the celebration under our very eyes? We are in need of a serious and dynamic liturgical formation."

In truth, this is why I do not find the letter all that helpful because he never fully answers these questions.

The pope has allowed himself to be distracted by dissenters, focusing on the concerns of a small but vocal minority opposed to the reforms of the council.

This makes the letter of little interest to the vast majority of Catholics who do not oppose the reforms but need to be drawn deeper into the mystery of the Eucharist.

Sadly, there is much ignorance among Catholics (including bishops and priests) about the Eucharist.

Too many Catholics still think that the purpose of the Eucharist is to make Christ present on the altar so that we can adore him.

That is fine for Benediction, but the Eucharist is where the Christian community remembers the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, gives praise and thanks to the Father, unites itself with the sacrifice of Christ and asks that the Spirit transform us into the body of Christ so that we can continue his mission on earth.

This is the heart of the Eucharist as seen in the Eucharistic prayer proclaimed at Mass.

Francis, we need another letter, one that helps the average Catholic understand and participate in the Eucharist.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

Popes John Paul II and Benedict made innovations in the election process to deal with such an eventuality, but they only made matters worse by not anticipating the negative consequences of their changes.

The source of the problem goes back to the traditional conclave rule that it takes a two-thirds vote to elect a new pope.

On the positive side, the two-thirds rule forces a conclave to elect as pope someone who has wide support, not someone who only has a slim majority of the cardinals behind him.

Unity is an essential attribute of the church, and a consensus candidate is less likely to divide the church.

This is especially important for someone who will hold the office for life.

Americans are aware of the problems that can arise in the U.S. Senate because of the supermajority (60%) required to end a filibuster. A minority of senators can stop the Senate from acting.

Likewise in a conclave, one-third plus one of the cardinals can stop a candidate from being elected pope. In most conclaves, this forces the majority to compromise by selecting an alternative candidate.

He may not be people's first choice, but he is judged acceptable to most cardinals.

But in a few conclaves, the two-thirds rule has led to a deadlock.

Because of deadlocks, in the 13th century, the papacy was vacant for a year and a half before the election of Innocent IV and for three and a half years before the installation of Gregory X.

In the first case, the election was finally forced by the senate and people of Rome, who locked up the cardinals until a pope was chosen in 1243.

In the second case, the people of Viterbo in 1271 not only locked the cardinals in, but they also tore off the roof of the building and put the cardinals on a diet of bread and water.

The name "conclave" comes from the Latin "locked with a key."

Such lengthy conclaves are the exception. The last conclave to go more than five days was in 1831: It lasted 54 days. Since the 13th century, 29 conclaves have lasted a month or more.

Wars or civil disturbances in Rome were the usual cause of these lengthy interregnums. Sometimes, however, delays were caused by deadlocks among the cardinals.

John Paul and Benedict appeared to fear a long conclave would scandalize people by showing divisions among the cardinals. In the old days before mass communications, few people would know or cared how long it took to elect a pope.

Today, the whole world is watching as the cardinals go into conclave.

A long conclave would lead to concern and speculation.

John Paul's solution was to allow the cardinals after 33 votes (34 votes if a vote occurred on the first day) to suspend the two-thirds requirement by a simple majority vote.

The cardinals could then elect a new pope with a simple majority of the cardinals after being in conclave for less than two weeks.

The problem with John Paul's solution was that it eliminated the incentive for compromise.

A simple majority of the cardinals know if they hold out for the required time, they will be able to elect their candidate.

Knowing this, the other cardinals will give in and accept the majority's candidate rather than delay the inevitable and thus alienate the new pope and scandalize the public.

The new rule made it impossible for a minority of cardinals to stop the election of Joseph Ratzinger as pope at the 2005 conclave.

If this rule were still in place today, it would probably lead to a new pope closer to Pope Francis than a pope elected through compromise.

Before leaving office, Benedict replaced John Paul's change with the requirement that after 33 (or 34) votes, there be a runoff between the top two candidates.

At the same time, he reinstated the requirement that the winner must get a two-thirds majority.

Benedict's change made matters worse because it eliminated the possibility of the cardinals choosing a compromise candidate. They could be deadlocked with no way out if neither candidate could obtain a two-thirds majority.

It is ironic that two conservative popes broke with tradition to respond to a possible problem but instead created greater problems for the conclave. This is exactly the mistake conservatives accuse liberals of making.

The simplest solution is for Francis to return the conclave to its traditional rule requiring a two-thirds vote of the cardinals to elect a pope.

In order to break a possible deadlock, the pope could also bring back the old rule of putting the cardinals on bread and water if they go on too long.

Meanwhile, the church might examine other possibilities — for example, using ranked-choice voting after 33 (or 34) inconclusive votes.

Here, each elector lists his first, second and third choices.

If no candidate wins two-thirds of first-preference votes, the candidate with the fewest first-preference votes is eliminated.

The second preferences of those who voted for him are now cast to see if they will decide the election. The process is repeated until someone gets a two-thirds vote.

There are problems with this system.

Ranked-choice voting was constructed for majority rule and could result in the top two candidates still having less than two-thirds of the vote.

In that case, additional ballots could take place until someone received two-thirds.

The advantage of ranked voting would be to reveal people's second and third choices, which could eventually lead to a successful compromise.

The lesson from John Paul's and Benedict's foolish reforms is that tinkering with conclave rules requires wide consultation. Popes should not rely only on a small group of advisers.

If they had issued draft proposals for churchwide discussion, people could have pointed out the problems before the changes were enacted.

The Vatican should learn from these mistakes.

No changes should be made in church law without open and transparent discussions.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

I was getting ready to leave Rome and he was one of the last and most important interviews for the book.

Because of illness, he had to cancel our first appointment and then graciously rescheduled me for a time when most Vatican officials were taking their siestas.

At the end of the interview, I asked for his blessing — something I only did with two other Vatican officials — because I sensed I was in the presence of a holy man.

But I also knew I was in the presence of a man who, as head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, had done irreparable harm to theological discussion in the church.

There were scores of theologians who had been investigated and silenced by his congregation during the papacy of John Paul II.

Articles and books had been censored.

Professors had been removed from their jobs. Even more, had practiced self-censorship to avoid harassment.

Those targeted included liberation theologians in Latin America, moral theologians in the United States and Europe, and anyone writing about the priesthood.

Some of them were my close friends.

I lived with two Jesuits who spent most of their sabbatical defending themselves from attacks by Rome.

These were not minor figures.

One, Michael Buckley, had worked as the chief staff person for the U.S. bishops' committee on doctrine; the other, David Hollenbach, had helped the bishops write their pastoral letter on the economy.

Ratzinger's problem was that he treated theologians like they were his graduate students who needed correction and guidance.

As a result, my last question to the cardinal was, "Granted the history of this congregation and the church in relation with certain theologians — I am thinking of some who were silenced before Vatican II and then were later acknowledged — do you ever worry that you may be … ?"

He laughed and responded, "Well, every day we make an examination of conscience if we are doing good or not. But finally, only our Lord can judge." In short, you do the best you can.

My own difficulties with Ratzinger began shortly after I became editor of America Magazine, a journal of opinion published by U.S. Jesuits.

When I became editor in June 1998, I wanted to make America a journal of discussion and debate on the important issues facing the church.

I knew there were limits to what we could publish.

There would be no editorials in favour of married priests, women priests or changing the church teaching on birth control. But I thought we could have discussion and debate in articles that did not necessarily represent the views of the magazine.

That summer the Vatican issued documents on the authority of bishops' conferences and on ecumenism and interreligious dialogue.

I asked around to find the best canon lawyers and theologians to write about these documents and published their articles.

I did not tell them what to say.

For the most part, they were polite responses that started by saying what they liked about the documents followed by where they thought the documents failed.

Over my seven years as editor, I tried to get writers who would represent different views in the church.

I published every submission from a bishop (except one).

When Cardinal Walter Kasper submitted an article critical of Ratzinger's ecclesiology, I immediately requested and got a response for publication from him.

I even invited Raymond Burke, then archbishop of St Louis, to explain his position on denying Communion to pro-choice politicians.

But I also published responses from a prominent canon lawyer and the Catholic representative he had targeted.

We also published numerous articles on the sex abuse crisis.

Within a couple of years, Ratzinger, through the Jesuit superior general in Rome, was signalling his unhappiness with the magazine.

It became clear that in Rome's view a Catholic journal of opinion should only express one opinion — the Vatican's. Every document and word from the Vatican should be greeted with uncritical enthusiasm.

Conservative Catholic voices in the United States were also attacking the magazine for not being obedient to the pope.

Interestingly, many of these same voices are now criticizing Pope Francis in a tone I would never have taken with anyone in the papacy.

At one point, the Vatican wanted to impose a committee of bishops as censors for the magazine.

Luckily, Cardinal Avery Dulles and others came to our defence and the idea was tabled.

The final nail in the coffin was a series of articles on gay marriage, starting with one strongly opposed to it by a philosophy professor from the Catholic University of America.

In response to this article, we received an unsolicited article supporting gay marriage by a theology professor from Boston College.

I knew this would be controversial, so I allowed the first author to respond to the response, and thus have the last word. That was not good enough.

Soon after, the word came from Ratzinger that Reese had to go.

For various reasons, the message was not communicated to me until after he was elected pope.

I was not surprised when I heard.

I had already concluded that it was time to go.

Granted my history with Ratzinger, now that he was pope, it was best for the Jesuits and the magazine that I bow out. And although I loved the job, I was tired after seven years of looking over my shoulder.

True, I was angry and depressed, but it soon became clear that once I was no longer editor, no one in Rome cared what I said or wrote.

I was free.

I have enjoyed my post-America career as a writer for Religion News Service and the National Catholic Reporter. And the election of Pope Francis lifted my depression.

I am getting old, and I now want to forgive Benedict.

I want to let it go.

I don't think we really grow up until we are able to forgive our parents for their failures.

Benedict has not asked for my forgiveness.

I doubt he remembers who I am.

He probably still believes what he did to me and to numerous theologians was the right thing for the church, but I still want to forgive him.

I cannot insist that others forgive him, especially those who were abused by priests.

In the early days of the crisis, he was like every other prelate, but he got better over time and faster than did many of his peers.

He ultimately helped the church improve its response to the abuse crisis.

But my experience is in no way comparable to the pain they suffered.

In short, I see Benedict as a holy but flawed individual who did the best he was capable of.

For all of us, that is the best we can say, so we should forgive as we would want to be forgiven.

In the end, as he said, "finally, only our Lord can judge."

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.

He has had only limited success — not surprisingly, since every pope since the Second Vatican Council in the early 1960s has also tried and made little headway.

That's not to say Francis' predecessors failed completely.

The curia is less Italian and more international today than before Vatican II. Heads of major offices must now submit their resignations when they turn 75, rather than staying until they die.

Pope Benedict XVI streamlined the expulsion of abusive priests, while Francis has begun holding bishops accountable for protecting children in their diocese.

Francis ended the persecution of progressive theologians and writers that was common under Popes John Paul II and Benedict. He has also strengthened the synod of bishops as a consultative body.

Francis has especially focused on the culture of the Vatican.

He understands that structural change will accomplish little if the people inhabiting those structures do not change. He frequently condemns clericalism and calls for a more listening church.

As a result, cardinals have put away their bejeweled crosses and silk. Diocesan bishops report that curia officials are more willing to listen to them than in previous papacies.

But Francis has still not issued the long-promised constitution for the reformed curia, provisionally titled "Praedicate Evangelium" ("Preach the Gospel"), despite Cardinal Pietro Parolin, the Vatican top official, saying that it is basically finished. The last constitution for the curia was "Pastor Bonus" (Good Pastor), promulgated by Pope John Paul II in 1988.

What should we look for in this new constitution?

Financial reform

Since every organization needs money to operate, the first thing to look at is how the new constitution deals with finances.

The Vatican has a long and embarrassing history of financial scandals, but financial reforms begun under Benedict and continuing under Francis mean that the Vatican Bank is now run well. But other parts of the Vatican still experience scandal and are in need of reform.

Financial regulators need to have the authority to hold everyone, including cardinals, accountable for their actions or inactions.

Contracts, investments and budgets should also be properly reviewed according to contemporary accounting standards.

Other questions include how suspected financial crimes will be investigated and whether there is adequate transparency. Will the financial control offices be adequately staffed with competent people?

Worker flexibility

Besides finances, the most important part of any organization is its employees. How the new constitution deals with HR, human resources, will be critical.

The church traditionally does a very bad job with HR, not only in the Vatican but all the way down to parishes. HR is not just about hiring and firing.

It also includes recruiting, vetting, hiring, training, supervising, paying, retraining, promoting and retiring or firing employees.

The Vatican does none of this well.

The Vatican also needs to keep up with changing technologies.

For decades, Vatican communications operated through a newspaper, a publishing house for Vatican documents and a shortwave radio network. These forms of communication are not relevant today.

Today it needs websites, video, podcasts, apps and social media.

Workers with new skills are needed for these and future technologies.

The typesetters, printers, radio technicians and others whose skills have become obsolete would be let go or retrained in most industries. But firing someone in Italy, let alone the Vatican, is very difficult.

It is not that the Vatican has difficulty hiring and retaining employees. Vatican employees may complain, but practically no one ever quits for a job outside the Vatican. The problem is getting the most out of the employees it has.

Management team

An equally intractable staffing problem is the management team that works directly with the pope.

This includes all the cardinals and bishops working in the Vatican as well as some laypersons heading offices. The Vatican Curia will never be truly reformed as long as the top positions must be filled by cardinals and bishops.

Most of the top officials in the Vatican get no training in management in seminary.

In dealing with employees, they often fall into paternalistic or authoritarian practices. Their eyes glaze over when looking at a budget or a spreadsheet.

They need ongoing training to handle these issues.

Popes also need more freedom to pick their teams.

Officials appointed under a previous pope are not always flexible enough to get on board with the new pope's priorities.

All new CEOs need a management team that is loyal to them and their goals.

They also don't always get the right mix the first time and therefore need to replace people who don't work out.

All of this is very difficult to do when the management team is made up of cardinals and bishops, who are still treated like princes and nobles, no matter what Francis says.

To remove a cardinal or bishop from a curia job, you have to find him another job in the Vatican or make him head of an archdiocese in his home country.

For years after his election, Francis kept in the curia cardinals and others who are not fully committed to his policies.

A big mistake was keeping Cardinal Marc Ouellet appointed by Pope Benedict as head of the Congregation for Bishops, the office responsible for appointing bishops around the world.

He needed someone in that job who would more aggressively seek out episcopal candidates who would actively implement Francis' vision for the church.

Having bishops working in the Vatican is theologically problematic since a bishop without a diocese is like a shepherd without sheep.

Vatican officials need to see themselves as staff to the pope as head of the college of bishops and not as part of the hierarchy.

Only a beginning

Finally, it is important that the constitution not be seen as definitive. Everyone needs to recognize that the curia, like the church, is "semper reformanda" — always in need of reform.

Too much time and too many hopes have been placed on perfecting this new constitution as if it was going to guide the church for decades.

Bureaucracies must constantly change to reflect new environments and goals as well as the needs of the person at the top, and the new constitution should be treated as simply a photograph of a moment in time, not a statue for the Vatican Museum.

No single reform will magically improve the curia. Additional reforms will be needed in the future, and they should be easy to do.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.