By Olivia Hastie

Russ, Martha, and I were standing in front of Saint Peter’s Basilica holding the banner with the names of women so many of you asked us to carry with us in the spirit this week in Rome. We had just arrived at the Vatican and were getting ready to make our way to the Dicastery for Divine Worship to deliver our open letter, freshly caffeinated after cappuccinos. 

We snapped a few photos and then had Lucy and Rita hold the sign, but before we could get that far a strange man started to walk toward us. Before I completely realized what was happening, he held out what looked like a wallet and flashed his badge:

“Vatican politzia,” he said, “What is this?”
“A banner with names on it,” we responded.
“Who are these people? What happens to them?” his partner chimed in.
“Well, they are our loved ones and friends. We are praying for them.” 

After asking us to move outside the square to be in accordance with Vatican rules and procedures, I couldn’t stop thinking about their question: “Who are these people? What happens to them?” At first it was funny to me. A silly story about when the Vatican police almost removed us for violating the rules.

But his questions kept percolating: Who are these people? What happens to them?

These are the names of women who have kept on keeping on in and around a Church that excludes them. These are the names of women who have come before and serve as beacons of spirituality, joy, hope and courage. These are women who embody the spirit of Mary Magdalene – a love for God, the desire to find God, and the ability to preach about where God is operating in their lives. 

And what happens to them? Well, we pray for them. But not merely a prayer of recognition, a prayer of naming. They are here with us, they are loved by us, they have shown us the way.  

When we walked into the Dicastery for Divine Worship, up to the Synod Secretariat, past the Trevi Fountain, to the Church of Saint Mary Magdalene, past the Pantheon, and to the Piazza Navona. We carried the banner and honored their names – women of wisdom and inspiration. 

The spirit of Mary Magdalene has impacted so many without recognition. And when asked how or why this work is important, I just think of that banner. How many more women will be empowered to share their gifts after seeing themselves reflected in the lectionary through the commissioning of Mary Magdalene? 

By Martha Ligas

Before the start of this fourth and final session of the Synod on Syndality, the delegates gathered for a retreat in preparation for their work ahead. During the retreat, Fr. Timothy Radcliffe, OP, reflected on Resurrection: 

“Without Mary, they would not have come to the tomb. She declares that the Lord is present.”  

There is no doubt about it: We need Mary Magdalene– her voice, her story, and her witness to Resurrection. Without Mary Magdalene, we would not have come to the tomb. Without Mary Magdalene, the story of the Resurrection isn’t complete. 

Yesterday was the FutureChurch team’s first of four full days in Rome during this opening week of the Synod. When we woke up in the morning we headed out to visit the Dicastery for Divine Worship right off of St. Peter’s Square. There are 16 different dicasteries in the Curia of the Roman Catholic Church, and each one exists to spread Catholic doctrine and to defend the Church from heresy. I can honestly say that it’s a place I never imagined I would be. 

But yesterday we had a mission– bring Mary Magdalene to Rome. Our FutureChurch community is counting on us to deliver. So with shaky confidence we found our way to the right office and asked to speak with someone from the Dicastery. While our team had reached out on multiple occasions requesting a meeting, we had never heard back. So there we were: showing up unannounced to the Vatican. But we were sent up an elevator and greeted by a gentleman who directed us to a room off the main entrance. There, we were met by an assistant to Cardinal Grech, the prefect of this particular Dicastery. 

During our meeting, we explained with poise and with joy how important it is that the full story of Mary Magdalene’s Resurrection proclamation be told on Easter Sunday morning. Easter Sunday is when our churches are the most full! What would it mean if, in packed churches all across the world, Catholics everywhere heard Jesus call Mary Magdalene by name? How would this naming reverberate within and beyond the walls of the church? How would this naming resonate with young girls sitting in the pews, young girls who may not realize Jesus knows their name, too? 

To our surprise, we found a friend at the Dicastery. Our conversation partner nodded along enthusiastically, took our prayer cards of Laura James artwork, and retrieved a lectionary to clearly see what we were talking about and asking for. He understood the request, was grateful for the conversation, and promised to take our letter and literature to the dicastery at large. It was all we could have asked for in a pop-in at the Curia, and we were honored as always to carry our community with us in our advocacy. 

By Olivia Hastie

During my teen years, spiritual growth was enmeshed with an education centered in complementarity. I was taught a passive faith – incurious and submissive. It frustrated me, to love God and to know that I was loved by God, but confined to gender norms that kept me from doing the things I wanted to – from being the person I wanted and was called to be. I truly couldn’t imagine that 10 years later, I would be packing my bags to go to Rome to be there for the opening of the Synod. 

It’s quite emotional for me honestly. 

Because, when I was fourteen, I never would have thought that I could play a role in shaping the Church, as small as that role is. I never would have believed that I, a young woman, could participate in the Synod even from the outside. It never would have occurred to me that there were others like myself, called to engage and transform their traditions. And, I never would have believed that in that big room, together, playing an equal role with bishops and clergy, are women carrying the stories and hopes of those on the margins who’ve come before us in faith. 

The Catholic Church is an ever fraught and uncomfortable institution, but today as I write sitting at my gate at Logan Airport, I have hope. I have hope that, even without immediate outcomes, our voices will carry. I have hope that our work to expand the lectionary, and support our partner organizations will leave our communities better than where we found them. 

During this trip, Russ, Martha, and I will continue our work making a way where it feels like there is no way. 

I will do it for fourteen-year-old me, who felt like God couldn’t love her in the same way God loves boys, just because she was a girl. 

And I do it for Mary Magdalene who proclaimed the good news all those years ago and has never received the credit she is due. I believe that movements, like ours, to include women in their rightful place in the lectionary, will have ricochet effects that will elevate the status and contributions of women throughout history and in our world today.

Mary Magdalene is going to the Synod, and what a blessing and honor it is to get to go with her. 

By Martha Ligas

The other day I went to get a haircut. My hairdresser, a lovely lady whom I enjoy chatting with but don’t yet know well, made a comment about next week’s weather, and I casually mentioned that I wouldn’t be in town next week.

“Oh, where are you going?”
“To Rome! I’m excited.”
“For work or for fun?”
“For work.”
“What type of work do you do?”

At this question, I paused. How could I possibly begin to explain to someone outside of the progressive Catholic Church reform world what I am doing in Rome next week? So, I stumbled through the next 30 seconds of conversation.

“Well…there’s a big meeting with the Pope that is happening in Rome next month.”
“Oh cool. Will you meet the Pope?”
“Well…probably not.”
“But you’ll be in the meeting?”
“Nope, not in the meeting either.”
“So….?”
“Well, we’re basically going to be outside the meeting…supporting the meeting, but also voicing our frustration about who isn’t in the meeting, and what they aren’t talking about.”

I knew that this wasn’t a great answer, but it seemed to be enough for my hairdresser. She smiled and nodded, and then changed the subject to something a little easier for us to talk about. Though we moved on pretty quickly, the conversation has been on my mind all week.
Why are we going to Rome when we aren’t Synod delegates? What good is it, to spend the money and take the time to fly across the Atlantic when we aren’t in the meeting anyway? What’s the point of the journey?

Will FutureChurch’s presence in Rome catalyze a conversation about women’s ordination on the Synod floor? Maybe. But probably not.

Will FutureChurch’s presence in Rome inspire the Dicastery to expand the lectionary to include the stories of hidden women in Scripture? I hope so, but we can’t say for sure.

Will FutureChurch’s presence in Rome inspire movements of reconciliation between the Catholic Church and the LGBTQ+ community that it has so often harmed? I wish, but I don’t actually think so.

If we’re expecting immediate results from our presence in Rome this week, I think we’ll be sorely disappointed.

And yet, without a shadow of a doubt, I know in my very being: Our presence in Rome this week matters.

It matters that we will be there, carrying a banner with the names of all of the women traveling with us in Spirit.

It matters that we will be praying together in hope that women’s voices of Scripture and of today will be heard in our Sunday liturgies.

It matters that we will be partnering with other church reform organizations as a collective and uniform body representing a new way forward.

It matters that we will physically– bodily– be present to this moment of Church history, showing up with our whole selves to say yes, we support synodality, but only when the doors are thrown wide open to the voices of all.

Because though we are only a few, we carry with us the prayers and the hopes of thousands in the FutureChurch community. We carry you with us, in our hearts and in our voices and in our courage to point the way towards a more inclusive church. We stand on the shoulders of giants who have done this work for ages, and we do this work with the hope that our children will never have to.

So no, we aren’t going to be in the big meeting. But our presence in Rome matters, our bags are packed with our clothes and our laptops and all of your prayers, and we are ready to say hello to the Eternal City.

And hey, maybe if we’re lucky we’ll even spot the Pope.