“The Church of our time has the duty to listen”
The Letter of the XVI Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops to the People of God (hereafter, the Letter), issued on the 25th of October 2023, articulates the following commitment:
To progress in its discernment, the Church absolutely needs to listen to everyone, starting with the poorest. This requires a path of conversion on its part, which is also a path of praise: “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children” (Luke 10:21)! It means listening to those who have been denied the right to speak in society or who feel excluded, even by the Church; listening to people who are victims of racism in all its forms – in particular in some regions to indigenous peoples whose cultures have been scorned. Above all, the Church of our time has the duty to listen, in a spirit of conversion, to those who have been victims of abuse committed by members of the ecclesial body, and to commit herself concretely and structurally to ensuring that this does not happen again.
It is a cause for celebration that the Synod has committed the Church to listening in absolute terms, has embedded a preferential option for the poor and voiceless, and has recognised that this priority includes those who are survivors of abuse within the Church.
And yet there is a contrast here that tempers celebration. Earlier in the Letter, the authors offer the following: “When homeless people near St. Peter’s Square were asked about their expectations regarding the Church on the occasion of this synod, they replied: Love!.” On the one hand, the Letter can channel the expectations of the homeless of Rome for the Church. On the other, it can only articulate a duty to listen to survivors. This is an acknowledgement – an implicit one, at least – that this latter duty remains unfulfilled.
The impact of the contrast should not be lost. It has been easier for the Church’s leaders to listen to the poor outside the walls of St Peter’s than it has been for the same group to be “moved with compassion” (Luke 10:33) for those whose dignity has been undermined by abuse inside the Church.
How might we reflect critically on this tension and the place of the Letter’s call within it? In what follows I offer some reflections in response to this question. While I focus on the Letter, I note that the themes I cover are common in many contexts in the Church, where calls to listen to the voices of survivors and response are becoming more common. As such, I hope that my offering to the Forum will be relevant beyond its specific context.
“What do you want me to do for you?”
I frame my reflections with reference to the extraordinary story of the healing of Blind Bartimaeus (Mark 10: 46-52):
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.[1]
For all of its rich significance in the composition of Mark’s gospel, the story contains several elements which relate to the tension in the Letter. I focus on three.
The first is the precarious position of Bartimaeus himself, the blind beggar, sitting by the side of the road, whose dignity is far less assured than those around him.
The second is the place of the crowd. They follow the Lord. The first impact many in their number have in the story is to “sternly order” Bartimaeus to be quiet. One can only imagine the power they would have had over Bartimaeus, blind and sitting by the side of the road. Even so, they are fickle. As soon as Jesus hears Bartimaeus and calls for him, they change their tune from “be quiet” to “take heart, get up, he is calling you”.
The third is Jesus himself. Over the noise of the crowd, Jesus hears the cry of Bartimaeus. He stops, causing the crowd to stop as well. As Jesus calls for Bartimaeus, the latter moves from an annoyance in the crowd’s estimation to the centre of their attention. The shift in the scene is extraordinary. Even so, it is Jesus’ next move which is the most profound. The blind man encounters the healer, and already those of us engaging with the story have the ending in mind: Bartimaeus will be healed. But that is not what happens next.
Jesus asks Bartimaeus a question: “What do you want me to do for you?”. All of a sudden, this man who was ordered to be quiet has been given a voice. Jesus disempowers himself to hear Bartimaeus express his own hopes, in his own words, in front of the crowd who silenced him.
“They sternly ordered him to be quiet”
Which of the characters in this story resembles the dominant response of Church leaders – whether ordained or lay – when those who have suffered the dreadful wounds of abuse have had the capacity to cry out for help? The answer is shameful, but it is clear: the crowd, sternly ordering their silence.
Many with power in the Church have done this by ignoring the plight of survivors, doubting their testimonies, using cynical legal instruments to silence them, paying them compensation in exchange for silence, prioritising the protection of the Church’s ‘good name’ over their testimony, among many other similar, silencing, acts.
Such leaders have been, on the one hand, a group earnestly following the Lord. And yet, on the other, able to ignore and silence the plight of those abused in their own midst. In so doing, they have embodied the crowd’s tragic failure in the story of Blind Bartimaeus: unable to embody Jesus’ central concern for those whose dignity is undermined, even while they earnestly follow him.
“Call him here” – “he is calling you”: a fundamental shift in disposition
When Jesus hears Bartimaeus’ call, he stops. The crowd catches on, but they are slow to do so. I am reminded of the players who don’t hear their referee blow the whistle: the players continue to run, not realising that the game has stopped. The crowd’s “take heart” is the embarrassing moment when everyone realises the game they are playing has been called to a halt by the one who is in charge.
I suggest that we read the Letter’s encouragement to listen to those who have been abused in the Church in the same way as the crowd’s “take heart” moment. Just as the crowd is slow to catch up with Jesus, so too our Church.
This means tempering our celebration the Letter’s call to listen. It is not a prophetic call to go to the peripheries. Nor is it an expression of compassionate leadership. It is instead a sign that we in the crowd are just beginning to recognise that Jesus stopped long ago, even as we and our leaders kept walking.
But Jesus stands still, in proximity to those whose dignity has been undermined by abuse in the Church. He asks us to call them closer. He waits in earnestness for their response to his question “what do you want me to do for you?”. And he expects us to stand still with him. To listen to what they have to say. And to be moved with compassion in response.
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[1]Translation from the New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition.