When a bishop demands Rome decide: Synodality facing the judgment of the fruits

An auxiliary bishop has just publicly and directly posed the question that many faithful only dared to voice in hushed tones: after years of assemblies, reports, and "conversations in the Spirit," has faith truly been strengthened? Bishop Rob Mutsaerts, auxiliary bishop of the Dutch diocese of 's-Hertogenbosch, addressed an open letter to Pope Leo XIV on August 14th, asking neither for reform nor revolution, but for something far simpler and far more unsettling: an assessment. Not how many meetings have taken place, but whether souls are closer to Christ. This question, brought before the public by a member of the hierarchy itself, reopens a debate that the previous pontificate had thought it had closed with a celebration.

The reaction was swift. Bishop Gerard de Korte, titular bishop of 's-Hertogenbosch and Bishop Mutsaerts' direct superior, publicly distanced himself, not on the substance of the objections raised, but on the form chosen by his auxiliary bishop. According to him, such a move should have remained private, transmitted to the Pope through the internal channels available to every auxiliary bishop, rather than made public without prior consultation with Rome. This disagreement over method, far from extinguishing the controversy, has instead amplified it, revealing the fault lines that now run through the European episcopate regarding the very meaning of the long synodal journey begun under the pontificate of Francis.

The heart of the controversy: judging a process by its results

The troubling question: what is the spiritual balance sheet?

What is striking about Bishop Mutsaerts' letter is not so much its harshness as its method: he deliberately rejects administrative criteria for judging the Synod on Synodality. He writes that the question is not how many meetings were organized, how many reports were written, or how many people participated, but whether faith was strengthened, whether Christ was proclaimed more clearly, whether Catholic identity was deepened, whether priestly vocations increased, and whether Sunday church attendance improved. Framed in this way, the question becomes formidable, for it shifts the debate from the procedural realm—where the Synod can easily boast of its unprecedented scope—to the spiritual realm, where Western indicators remain, by the Roman authorities' own admission, a cause for concern.

This requirement of evaluation by fruit is not a rhetorical invention of convenience. It is rooted in a saying of Christ himself, which Bishop Mutsaerts directly invokes in his letter: «By their fruits you will recognize them» (Mt 7:16). This criterion, far from being a mere slogan, engages a whole theology of discernment: a good tree does not bear bad fruit, and a bad tree does not bear good fruit (Mt 7:18). Applied to an ecclesial process that now spans nearly a decade, this criterion implies that judgment cannot be indefinitely deferred in the name of pastoral patience: at some point, the question of concrete fruitfulness must be addressed directly.

A process that never ends

What exacerbates the impact of the criticism, in the eyes of the Dutch auxiliary bishop, is the very temporality of the process. The Synod on Synodality, originally conceived as a limited exercise between 2021 and 2024, has transformed into a permanent mechanism. In May 2026, the Synod's General Secretariat published a detailed roadmap entitled "Towards the Assemblies 2027-2028," which outlines four successive stages—remembering, interpreting, guiding, and celebrating—leading to a Universal Church Assembly in Rome in October 2028. Specifically, diocesan and eparchial assemblies will be held in the first half of 2027, followed by assemblies of episcopal conferences in the second half, and then continental assemblies in the first four months of 2028, before the major Roman celebration.

Bishop Mutsaerts sees this as a worrying shift: what was meant to be a one-off synod risks becoming a permanent form of Church governance. He mocks the very name of the event—a «synod on synodality»—which he compares to a meeting dragging on endlessly to debate how future meetings should be conducted. This remark, biting as it may be, touches on a real theological point: Catholic tradition has known councils and synods since the Apostles gathered in Jerusalem, but these always focused on a specific subject—a heresy, a moral question, a pastoral crisis—never on the deliberative process itself, which was elevated to an end in itself.

The Church received rather than negotiated

The theological heart of the letter concerns ecclesiology. Bishop Mutsaerts reminds us that the Church does not begin with human dialogue but with an act of Christ: he did not establish a discussion group, he called the Apostles, conferred authority upon them, and sent them to proclaim the Gospel. This assertion is based on the very mandate that the Risen Lord entrusts to the Eleven: «Go therefore and make disciples of all nations» (Mt 28:19). Faith, he insists, is not built by the sum of consulted opinions; it is received, transmitted, and preserved. Saint Paul himself constantly uses this vocabulary of reception and transmission, a sign that the deposit of faith is not a matter negotiable according to the whims of the majority.

This conviction finds a striking echo in a less discussed passage that Bishop Mutsaerts explicitly quotes: Christ's words to Simon Peter at the Last Supper, as recounted by Luke, where Jesus announces the coming trial before entrusting the first of the Apostles with a specific mission: "And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers" (Lk 22:32). This verse, carefully chosen by the Dutch auxiliary bishop, is not a call for constant consultation but for doctrinal confirmation: the Petrine ministry exists precisely to decide, reassure, and stabilize the faith of the brothers in times of trouble, not to perpetuate uncertainty under the guise of listening.

De Korte and the methodological fracture in the episcopate

A criticism that does not dispute the substance

The most revealing aspect of this affair lies in the precise nature of Bishop Gerard de Korte's response. Contrary to what one might expect, the Bishop of 's-Hertogenbosch does not refute the substance of the objections raised by his auxiliary bishop. He censures only the form: according to him, Bishop Mutsaerts did not consult the Pope before publishing this lengthy open letter, whereas a private approach would have been more appropriate if the true intention was, as the auxiliary bishop himself claims, to avoid sowing division. Bishop de Korte reiterated that a bishop, and particularly an auxiliary bishop, has his own channels of communication with the Bishop of Rome, and that there was no need to resort to the public sphere to raise these questions.

This distinction between substance and form is crucial for understanding the true scope of the controversy. It means that, even within the episcopate, some voices acknowledge the legitimacy, at least partially, of Bishop Mutsaerts' diagnosis of the synodal process's waning momentum, while simultaneously disapproving of the open letter strategy as a means of addressing the Pope. The debate, therefore, is not simply a matter of opposing "pro" and "anti" synods; it primarily pits two conceptions of how a bishop should exercise his freedom of speech toward Rome—through the discretion of fraternal communion, or through public exposure in the name of pastoral urgency.

What this rift reveals about the state of the European episcopate

This sequence, however brief its chronological unfolding—the letter published on August 14, Bishop de Korte's critical response made public two days later, on August 16—highlights a much broader tension that has been running through the European episcopate since the Synod's close in 2024. On the one hand, bishops and Curia officials continue to promote the narrative of a fruitful process, bearing a renewed "spiritual style." On the other hand, pastoral voices on the ground, often situated in Churches particularly affected by secularization—the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany—openly question the gap between the institutional energy deployed and the concrete results observed in parishes.

Bishop Mutsaerts himself explicitly situates his remarks within this regional context: he mentions emptying churches, merging parishes, disappearing monasteries, the near abandonment of confession by many Catholics, and the decline in priestly vocations across much of Western Europe. This description, particularly relevant to his own country, gives concrete weight to his request for clarification: it is not an abstract dispute between theologians, but the expression of a pastoral concern arising from daily contact with communities that are genuinely shrinking.

Rome's answer: a style rather than a method

It is striking to note that Leo XIV's own words, spoken a few weeks earlier at the extraordinary consistory of June 26 and 27, 2026, unwittingly anticipated this coming controversy. The Pope affirmed that the question of synodality is not primarily about who has the power to decide, but rather how the Church together safeguards the gift the Lord has entrusted to her. He further clarified that synodality is not a series of meetings or a working method, but a spiritual style that arises from encounter, grows through listening, and matures through discernment.

This formulation, however lofty, does not directly answer the specific question posed by Bishop Mutsaerts: that of measurable fruits. Leo XIV emphasized the evangelical quality of encounters rather than their number, urging cardinals not to multiply meetings but to learn to experience encounters where, by listening to one another, the Church learns to listen to the Lord. Here we perceive two registers that do not entirely converge: that of Rome, which speaks in terms of inner disposition and a conversion of perspective, and that of the Dutch auxiliary bishop, who calls for verifiable criteria of pastoral fruitfulness. It is precisely this lack of connection between the two registers that still fuels the dissatisfaction of some bishops today with a process that seems to justify itself through its own continuity rather than through evaluated results.

Emmaus, a contested image of synodality

It is significant that both sides in this debate, without explicitly knowing it from each other, refer to the same Gospel episode to justify opposing interpretations. Leo XIV, concluding the consistory in June, chose the icon of the disciples on the road to Emmaus to describe the synodal experience lived by the cardinals: men marked by sorrow, joined by a traveling companion who listens to their questions, opens the Scriptures, and sets their hearts ablaze. Bishop Mutsaerts, for his part, takes up the same narrative to draw an almost opposite conclusion: the decisive moment of the episode is not the listening itself, but the correction that Christ brings to the disciples' erroneous interpretation, before they rise and immediately return to Jerusalem to proclaim the good news. For the auxiliary bishop, authentic synodality cannot linger in conversation; it must, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, lead to a concrete missionary mission.

This dual use of the same text is not a literary accident; it illustrates the precise theological crux of the current controversy. Should we prioritize the journey—mutual listening, walking together, the time for dialogue—or the outcome—the recognition of Christ in the breaking of the bread, followed by the immediate return to the proclamation? The Acts of the Apostles, moreover, offers a precedent that sheds light on this dilemma: at the assembly in Jerusalem, the apostles and elders, after discussion, did not simply provide a procedural account, but made a decisive decision and wrote a concluding letter sent to the communities, affirming that they had acted «it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us» (Acts 15:28). This apostolic precedent shows that authentic synodal discernment, in the Church’s most ancient tradition, always concludes with a clear and communicable decision, not with the indefinite prolongation of the debate.

What this controversy reveals about the future of the synodal path

The expectation of a sharp, decisive statement

What makes Bishop Mutsaerts' request so difficult to dismiss out of hand is that it calls for neither abandonment nor doctrinal revolution, but simply renewed clarity. His concluding statement sums up the entire issue: "When the world speaks with uncertainty, let Peter speak with clarity." This phrase directly reflects the Petrine function as understood by Catholic tradition: that of a rock who confirms rather than a moderator who endlessly synthesizes the opinions gathered. It also resonates with a profound biblical intuition, that of Peter responding to Christ when so many disciples were turning away from his demanding teaching: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life" (John 6:68). This cry of Peter, quoted by Bishop Mutsaerts himself in his letter, reminds us that Petrine authority exists precisely to offer, amidst contemporary doubts, a firm word to which the faithful can cling.

This demand for clarity does not signify a rejection of dialogue as such. Rather, it signals a weariness with a process that, by trying to hear everything, is slow to reach a conclusion on the most sensitive issues: the female diaconate, the place of homosexual persons, relations between laity and clergy, and the decentralization of certain doctrinal decisions. Bishop Mutsaerts emphasizes the resulting pastoral paradox: by leaving these questions open for years of consultation, the Church fosters in many of the faithful the expectation of a change that, doctrinally speaking, simply cannot occur without a break with Tradition—which, in his view, paves the way for widespread disappointment rather than genuine renewal.

Holiness rather than structures

The alternative proposed by the auxiliary bishop deserves to be taken seriously in its historical depth. He reminds us that major Catholic reforms have almost never begun with a reform of structures, but rather with the holiness of concrete figures: Benedict of Nursia, Bernard of Clairvaux, Francis of Assisi, Dominic de Guzman, Catherine of Siena, Ignatius of Loyola, Teresa of Avila, Charles Borromeo, Francis de Sales, John Bosco, Thérèse of Lisieux, Maximilian Kolbe, and John Paul II. This list is not mere rhetorical embellishment; it constitutes an implicit theological thesis according to which the missionary fruitfulness of the Church stems primarily from the spiritual radicalism of individual witnesses rather than from the optimization of its institutional procedures.

This intuition finds a precise biblical echo in the First Epistle of Peter, where the apostle describes the baptized as living stones called to become a spiritual house: «You too, like living stones, are being built together into a spiritual house» (1 Peter 2:5). This verse, less frequently cited than other Petrine passages, emphasizes that the building up of the Church rests on the living holiness of each baptized person built upon Christ, the cornerstone—an image that stands in stark contrast to a purely procedural conception of ecclesial construction, where the emphasis would be on organizational charts rather than on the conversion of hearts.

A debate that is far from over.

The controversy sparked by Bishop Mutsaerts will not end anytime soon, as it arises precisely when the synodal process enters its most demanding implementation phase, with deadlines set until the end of 2027 for the diocesan and episcopal assemblies, and until October 2028 for the final Ecclesial Assembly in Rome. Each step of this multi-year process will provide a further opportunity for the most critical bishops to reiterate the question posed by the Auxiliary Bishop of 's-Hertogenbosch: does this new collective effort bear verifiable spiritual fruit, yes or no?

Bishop de Korte's response, by clearly distinguishing between disagreement on method and disagreement on substance, may have unintentionally legitimized the question itself while relegating it to the private sphere. But a question posed publicly does not so easily disappear into the silence of internal correspondence. It will continue to circulate, precisely because it touches on what every believer, deep down, expects from their pastor: not a procedural report, but a word that strengthens faith.

Lectio divina

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