Open Letter to His Holiness Pope Leo XIV

Open Letter to His Holiness Pope Leo XIV - English Version, Dutch, see below. 

Holy Father,

With reverence for the office entrusted to you as successor of Saint Peter, and in communion with the Church which Christ built upon the apostles, I address you with this open letter. I do not do so lightly. What leads me to speak these words publicly is a concern that ultimately transcends every other ecclesial consideration: the salvation of souls. Salus animarum suprema lex — the salvation of souls is the supreme law. My question is a simple and earnest one: does the synodal process actually help bring souls closer to Christ and to eternal salvation? That is the decisive question for me.

Holy Father, I fully realize that the Petrine office bears a responsibility of which someone standing outside that office can only have a vague inkling. Precisely for this reason, I write these words not out of a lack of reverence for the papal office, but out of love for that same office. After all, Peter received from Christ not only the commission to unite the brothers, but also to strengthen them in the faith: “And you, when you have once turned back, strengthen your brothers.” Ultimately, the world gains little from a Church that merely repeats what the world itself already thinks. It needs a Church that points it to Christ, with love but without fear.

My concern regarding the Synod on Synodality must be read in that light. And above all, I wonder what all this means for the simple believer who expects not a permanent process from his Church, but clarity about the way to God.

This letter is therefore not an indictment against individuals. Nor do I wish to deny the good intentions of the many who have sincerely dedicated themselves to the synodal process. Good intentions deserve recognition. But good intentions do not absolve us of the duty to examine the fruits. Christ himself has given us a simple criterion for this: “By their fruits you shall know them.” Therefore, I believe that after years of synodal consultations, meetings, reports, and documents, the time has come to openly inquire about those fruits. Not out of cynicism, but out of love for the Church. Not out of nostalgia for an idealized past, but out of concern for her future. And not to wage a church-political battle, but because behind all discussions lies a reality that is infinitely more important: the eternal salvation of the souls Christ has entrusted to his Church. Out of that concern, Holy Father, I present to you the following reflection.

The Synod on Synodality

Whoever judges the Synod on Synodality solely on the basis of its own objectives can easily write a positive story. There was listening. There was speaking. Thousands of people were consulted. Bishops, priests, religious, and lay people gathered. There was talk of community, participation, and mission. A new ecclesiastical vocabulary even emerged: synodality, listening, discernment, participation, conversation in the Spirit, setting processes in motion. But one can also view the same history from a completely different perspective. Let me just ask the uncomfortable question: What has all this actually yielded? Not: how many meetings were organized? Not: how many reports were written? Not: how many people participated? But: has faith become stronger? Has Christ been proclaimed more clearly? Has Catholic identity deepened? Have more people come to conversion? Is Sunday Mass better attended? Are there more priestly vocations? Has catechesis become more powerful? Has greater reverence for the Eucharist emerged? Has the moral teaching of the Church become clearer? Has missionary courage increased?

When one asks such questions, it is impossible to consider the Synod a success. Meanwhile, there is something else to consider. The synodal undertaking is not truly concluded. The official implementation phase continues and, via diocesan, national, and continental meetings, must ultimately culminate in an ecclesiastical assembly in Rome in October 2028. In May 2026, the Vatican once again published an extensive roadmap for this. That makes the criticism all the more relevant. What once began as a 2021–2024 synod threatens to become a permanent form of governance.

A synod about a synod

The first remarkable aspect is already in the name: Synod on Synodality. Traditionally, a synod was convened because the Church needed to speak about something. About evangelization, marriage and family, priesthood, the Eucharist, Scripture, a heresy, a pastoral crisis, or a concrete problem. In the synod on synodality, the process itself is made the subject. One could compare it to a meeting that convenes endlessly to discuss how to hold meetings from now on.

The Church has known councils and synods since antiquity. The apostles gathered in Jerusalem. Bishops deliberated with one another. Popes consulted bishops. The great ecumenical councils are unthinkable without joint ecclesiastical consultation. But that is something different from synodality as a permanent ecclesiastical paradigm. The classical synod was a means. In contemporary synodal discourse, synodality threatens to become an end in itself. And that is precisely where the problem begins from a traditional Catholic perspective.

The Church is not a conversation but a received reality.

For the Church does not begin with our dialogue. It begins with Christ. That sounds self-evident, but it has far-reaching consequences. Christ did not set up a discussion group. He called apostles. He gave them authority. He sent them out to proclaim, baptize, and teach: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” The direction is fundamental in this regard. Faith does not arise because the Church first inventories what people believe and then distills a common conviction from all those experiences. Faith is received. Paul constantly uses words such as receive, hand down, and preserve for this. The Church possesses Revelation not because she conceived it, but because she received it. This means that Christianity cannot, in essence, be democratic. Not because democracy as a form of government is bad, but because truth does not arise by a majority vote. If tomorrow 90 percent of Catholics were no longer to believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, Christ would not be any less truly present. If 80 percent reject a certain moral doctrine, that doctrine does not automatically become untrue. Truth is not produced by consensus. That constitutes the first major area of ​​tension surrounding the synodal project.

Listening: to whom?

A key word throughout the entire process was listening (as if we had never done that). In itself, there is nothing to object to. A bishop must listen. A priest must listen. Christians must listen to one another. A shepherd who never listens to his flock is not a good shepherd. But the question immediately follows: To whom must the Church listen above all? The traditional answer is: to Christ, to Scripture, to Apostolic Tradition, to the saints, to the testimony of twenty centuries of Christianity, to the Magisterium. And, of course, also to the believers.

In certain synodal texts, however, the order seems to be easily reversed. One begins with the experiences, desires, frustrations, and expectations of contemporary people and then asks how the Church should respond to them. That seems pastorally appealing, but it contains a danger. For what happens when the desires of modern man clash with the Gospel? Then it is not the Gospel that must change; then man must change. In Christianity, that is called conversion. And precisely that word is heard remarkably little in many modern church discussions.

The great absentee: conversion

Here lies the deepest weakness of the entire project. The Church does not exist primarily to affirm people in what they already are. It exists to bring them to Christ. The first words of Jesus’ public preaching are not: “Tell Me first how you feel about the current church structures.” But: “Repent and believe in the Good News.” That is considerably less bureaucratic. And considerably more radical.

The Church of the Martyrs did not change the Roman world by organizing listening meetings on the question of how Romans could experience the Christian community more inclusively. She proclaimed Christ. Peter proclaimed Christ. Paul proclaimed Christ. Francis proclaimed Christ. Dominic proclaimed Christ. Francis Xavier proclaimed Christ. John Mary Vianney proclaimed Christ. Mother Teresa proclaimed Christ. John Paul II proclaimed Christ. They undoubtedly listened to people. But listening was never the endpoint. The endpoint was conversion to Christ.

The elephant in the synodal assembly hall

Moreover, there is a curious discrepancy between the problems discussed at length in the synodal process and the actual crisis in which the Western Church, in particular, finds itself. The fundamental problems of the Church in the Netherlands, Belgium, especially Germany, but also of large parts of Western Europe, are not difficult to recognize. Churches are emptying. Parishes are being merged. Monasteries are disappearing. Religious orders are aging. Knowledge of the Catholic faith is declining. Confession has virtually disappeared for many Catholics. The number of priestly vocations remains low in many places. Many baptized people hardly believe in essential truths of faith anymore. Among large groups of Catholics, the sacramental life has severely weakened. Against that ach Fundamentally, one would expect a global church operation to primarily address one question: How can we win the world back for Christ?

But much attention is focused on structures, participation, decision-making processes, responsibility for women, inclusivity, power relations, and the way church bodies function. These can be legitimate topics. However, a burning house has different priorities than matters of a domestic nature.

A Church Parkinson’s Law

Institutions that lose sight of their original purpose often start talking more and more intensely about their own organization. Companies then talk endlessly about processes. Universities about governance. Governments about participation models. And church organizations about structures. The less evangelization, the more committees about evangelization. The fewer vocations, the more documents about vocations. The fewer people come to church, the longer the meetings about being the church become. That sounds cynical, but there is a serious thought behind it: bureaucracy can create the illusion of activity while reality shows the opposite. One is navigating without a compass. The expectations that cannot be met

The synodal process has raised expectations. This occurred primarily because, during the various consultation phases, themes were admitted that touch upon matters on which the Church already possesses clear doctrine. The female diaconate. The priesthood. Sexual morality. Homosexual relationships. The relationship between the laity and the clergy. Ecclesiastical authority. Decentralization. The position of women. When such subjects are “discussed” for years, the impression naturally arises that they can eventually be changed as well. After all, otherwise, one would not speak about them endlessly.

This creates a pastoral paradox. People are asked to express their expectations. Subsequently, some expectations prove impossible to fulfill without jeopardizing continuity with Catholic doctrine. What happens then? Widespread disappointment. The Church has then itself raised expectations that it ultimately cannot honor. That is not a pastoral gain. It is a recipe for frustration.

The Protestantization of the Catholic concept of the Church

Moreover, from a traditionalist perspective, a historical irony is visible here. A number of elements of modern synodal culture actually show similarities to developments that have been observable in Protestant churches for decades. More emphasis on participation. More administrative input. More consultative structures. More weight for local communities. More emphasis on individual experience. More discussion about changing societal views. Less of a given regarding hierarchical authority. In itself, this need not all be wrong. But the historical question is inevitable: Has this model led to a spectacular Christian revival in the Protestant world? In large parts of Western Europe, the answer is clearly: no. Why, then, would the Catholic Church adopt precisely the administrative and pastoral patterns of denominations that often underwent the same secularization even earlier and more severely? A patient rarely recovers by taking the medicine from the patient in the bed next to him who is in an even worse condition.

The forgotten alternative: striving for holiness

The great Catholic reforms almost never began with structures. They began with saints. After periods of corruption came reformers. Benedict, Bernard, Francis, Dominic, Catherine of Siena, Ignatius of Loyola, Teresa of Ávila, Charles Borromeo, Francis de Sales, John Bosco, Thérèse of Lisieux, Maximilian Kolbe, John Paul II. Their program was surprisingly simple: become holy.

For a saint possesses a missionary power that no policy document can match. A parish with a holy pastor has a greater future than a diocese with twenty working groups on synodality and highly paid managers. A convent with ten fervent religious evangelizes more than a hundred pages of ecclesiastical jargon. A priest who visibly believes that he stands before God at the altar can bring more people to faith than a conference on participatory liturgy.

Herein lies perhaps the alternative that the Synod has insufficiently emphasized: not less listening, but more holiness. Not less participation, but more conversion. Not less dialogue, but more proclamation. The Liturgy as a Litmus Test

From a traditional perspective, it is moreover striking that the crisis of the liturgy received relatively little central attention. For if one truly wants to know the state of a Church, one must look at its worship. Lex orandi, lex credendi. How one prays, that is where faith is expressed.

When Catholics barely understand anymore that the Mass is the sacramental present sacrifice of Christ dig argues that when the sense of the sacred weakens, when silence disappears, when confessionals stand empty and Eucharistic adoration becomes marginal, then the Church does not have a governance problem. Then it has a faith problem. A new participation structure cannot solve that. Nor can a new assembly. A rediscovery of God, perhaps it can.

The Paradox of Participation

The synodal project emphasizes participation. But here a curious paradox emerges. The people who participate intensively in ecclesiastical consultation processes are not necessarily representative of the entire Church. The quiet Catholic who attends Mass every morning, prays the rosary, and gives catechism to his grandchildren usually does not write a synodal report. The young Catholic who travels three hours to attend a traditional liturgy usually does not sit on the diocesan working group. The mother of six children trying to raise her family as a Catholic may have little time for listening sessions. A contemplative sister does not fill out a survey. But their faith may be more deeply rooted than that of professional ecclesiastical assembly participants. Whoever listens only to those who come to the microphone can easily forget that the People of God are greater than the circle around the meeting table.

Synodality or collegiality?

Perhaps some of the confusion would disappear if one spoke more precisely again. The Catholic tradition has a clear concept: collegiality. The bishops, together with and under Peter, form the College of Bishops. In addition, there are councils of priests, pastoral councils, synods, chapters, religious communities, and countless other forms of deliberation. Why was a new, all-encompassing category needed for this: synodality?

Precisely because the concept is so broad—it is impossible to devise a definition—everyone can understand something different by it. For one, it means listening. For another, decentralization. For a third, democratization. For a fourth, pastoral renewal. For a fifth, reform of the ministry. For a sixth, a different sexual morality. A concept that can mean everything ultimately means nothing. That is why the question of proportionality is justified. How much energy still needs to be put into this? How many meetings? How many synodal teams? How many reports? How many evaluations of evaluations? And above all: what would happen if the same amount of time, money, intellectual energy, and episcopal attention were invested in catechesis, seminaries, Catholic education, liturgy, confession, Eucharistic adoration, marriage pastoral care, and direct evangelization? That is a rhetorical question, it seems to me.

The deepest problem: ecclesiology

Ultimately, therefore, the discussion is not really about gathering. It is about the question: What is the Church? Is it primarily a community that collectively seeks what it is to become? Or is it primarily a divine reality that has received what it is to be? The Catholic answer can only be the latter. The Church must continually convert, but it is built on the apostles. It preserves a faith that it did not invent itself. Therefore, every synodality must ultimately be limited by something that is not open to synodal discussion: the truth that Christ has revealed.

The world is not waiting for a synodal Church

And here lies perhaps the greatest tragedy. The modern world is in an extraordinary spiritual crisis. People seek meaning. Young people seek identity. Loneliness is increasing. Families are falling apart. Technology is penetrating ever deeper into human existence. Pornography distorts sexuality. Materialism does not satisfy. Climate change is becoming a surrogate religion for many. People are afraid of death but hardly know anymore what they are living for. And in the midst of that world, the Church possesses something extraordinary. It possesses the Gospel. The sacraments. The Eucharist. Confession. Two thousand years of wisdom. Scripture. The Church Fathers. Thomas Aquinas. Augustine. The mystics. The saints. An unparalleled tradition of art, music, philosophy, morality, and spirituality. And above all: Jesus Christ.

The world is not waiting for yet another organization that listens to it. There are enough of those. The world is waiting for someone who tells it what it was created for.

From Emmaus to Jerusalem

Perhaps the Gospel of the Emmaus Disciples ultimately offers the best model for authentic Catholic synodality. Christ walks with the disciples. He listens indeed. He asks what is on their minds. He lets them speak. Their disappointment is given space. Up to this point, every synodal manual could enthusiastically agree. But then the decisive moment occurs. Christ does not confirm their interpretation. He corrects it. He opens the Scriptures to them. He teaches them how to understand the events. And finally, they recognize Him at the break. and of the bread. That is Catholic synodality in its purest form. And afterwards, the disciples do not remain gathered endlessly in Emmaus to evaluate their walking experience. They get up. They return to Jerusalem. They go out to preach. The synodal process got stuck in Emmaus, and the question is whether they can still get out of there. We are so busy discussing how the Church should journey together that we sometimes forget where it is headed.

Ultimately, the Catholic Church has no need for a permanent synod about itself. It needs saints. Bishops who teach. Priests who pray. Religious who live radically for God. Parents who pass on the faith. Young people who discover that truth is more than an opinion. Liturgy in which God is truly central. Confessionals where sinners find forgiveness. Seminaries where men are formed who are willing to give their lives to Christ. Catholics who do not constantly ask how the Church should adapt to the world, but who have the courage to invite the world to be transformed by Christ. For ultimately, Christ did not send His Church into the world with the words: Go forth and organize synodal processes everywhere. He said: “Go out into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to all creation.” With that, the Church began. And whenever she was truly renewed, she began there anew.

Holy Father,

Allow me to conclude this letter with the same thought with which I began it: the salvation of souls. I hope and pray that under your pontificate it may once again become visible with great clarity that the Church is not called to endlessly discuss itself, but to proclaim Christ; not to reflect the spirit of the age, but to lead the world toward eternal life.

Precisely from the successor of Peter, the faithful may expect that, amidst the confusion of our time, he strengthens the brothers in faith. That he reminds us that the truth proclaimed by the Church is not a possession over which we can dispose at will, but a precious treasure that we have received and must pass on intact. May he give courage to priests who faithfully fulfill their calling, to religious who have dedicated their lives to God, to parents who try to raise their children as Catholics against the current, and to young people who, precisely in a time of relativism, long for truth, holiness, beauty, and the radical adventure of a life with Christ.

My prayer to you is therefore simple: give us clarity. When the world speaks with uncertainty, let Peter speak clearly. When the Church grows weary of internal discussions, point us back to Christ. When we lose ourselves in processes and structures, remind us of our mission. When we become afraid to proclaim the Gospel in its fullness because it might offend modern man, remind us of the words of Peter himself: “Lord, to whom shall we go? Your words are words of eternal life.”

Holy Father, I write all this in sincere reverence for your office and with love for the Church. My criticism of the synodal process does not stem from a desire to sow discord, but from the fear that we are losing precious time while so many people no longer know Christ. The harvest is great. The laborers are few. The churches of the West are emptying out, while at the same time new generations seem to be seeking truth and transcendence anew. Precisely now we do not need a hesitant Church, but a missionary Church that knows what its treasure is and is not afraid to show that treasure to the world.

Therefore, I pray that your pontificate may be characterized by a renewed concentration on what ultimately forms the heart of every true ecclesial reform: Christ, conversion, holiness, the Eucharist, evangelization, and the salvation of souls. For once all synods have concluded, all documents have been written, all committees have been dissolved, and our own names have been forgotten, only the question that truly matters remains: have we brought the people entrusted to our care closer to Jesus Christ?

May Saint Peter intercede for you. May Our Lady, Mater Ecclesiae, keep you under her protection. And may the Lord grant you the wisdom, courage, and paternal determination to lead His Church in truth and love.

With feelings of sincere reverence, united in prayer,

in Christo,

 

+Rob Mutsaerts

Aux. Bishop Diocese of 's-Hertogenbosch