When the crowd leaves, the bell tower remains

Numbers 11, 16–17

¹⁶The Lord said to Moses, «Gather for me seventy men from the elders of Israel, whom you know to be elders of the people and officers over them, and bring them to the tent of meeting, and let them stand there with you. ¹⁷I will come down and speak to you there, and I will take some of the spirit that is on you and put it on them, so that they can share with you the burden of the people and you will no longer bear it alone.

Acts 14:23

²³Afterwards, they crossed Pisidia and came to Pamphylia,

The backlash from large crowds

Seven hundred thousand voices, then the silence of a Saturday

The crowds for the papal visit were real. The Pope spoke of hope in the Place de la Concorde, invited people to "see those who are invisible" at a reception center for exiles, and prayed at the grotto of Massabielle. In the preceding weeks, entire dioceses had organized trips there. The diocese of Belfort-Montbéliard, the smallest in France, sent buses to Metz with about a hundred faithful and its priests. One hundred and thirty pilgrims from northern Franche-Comté made the journey.

Upon returning, everyone found their parish exactly as it had been. The same church bell rang, the same handful of faithful gathered. The contrast might be discouraging, and one can already hear the question: will this "Leonmania" last? The risk would be to believe that faith is measured by the size of the gatherings. The Gospel takes the opposite view: the leaven is small, the seed tiny, and the lamp only illuminates the house.

However, this isn't a cheap consolation. Saying "quality over quantity" might be a polite way of giving up. Large gatherings serve a specific purpose: they restore courage, they remind us that we're not alone in our beliefs, they give young people proof that an entire generation stands with them. Yet their benefits are reaped over time, and that time is spent in local communities.

The figures of fatigue

We must face the numbers. In 2000, France had 976 seminarians, compared to 679 in 2023. The number of priests fell from 25,353 to 12,019 over the same period, a decrease of more than half. Ninety priests were ordained for France in 2025. Behind these statistics are men who are growing old, rushing from place to place, sometimes serving dozens of parishes, without ever finding a true local community.

Bishops are calling on priests from other countries, which is a sign of communion and a valuable help. But this solution has its limits, because it shifts the shortage rather than resolving it. The churches from which these priests come themselves need their pastors. Many parishes no longer celebrate the Eucharist every Sunday, and territorial mergers are increasing. In Héricourt, a new priest was installed on September 20th. This is a joy, but it doesn't solve the fundamental problem: one man cannot be everywhere.

Voices are being raised, even among committed members of the faithful, questioning whether the current model, which rests entirely on the central figure of the priest, is still viable. The question is legitimate. It must be asked without bitterness or ideological bias, as a question of fidelity: what does the Lord expect of us, here and now?

A visit, not a diagnosis

Bishop Denis Jachiet doesn't arrive in Héricourt with a ready-made solution. A pastoral visit isn't an inspection: the bishop comes to meet the Christian community and talk with them. A few days ago, he was in Chèvremont, at a school, speaking to about sixty people, and his concerns focused on young Christians. This simple gesture matters. It shows that the bishop is reaching out to his parishioners, and that the future of the Church is being discussed in ordinary settings.

In his diocese, the bishop has already outlined two responses to the shortage: one organizational and practical, the other spiritual, relating to vocation and prayer. This twofold response is appropriate. A Church that merely organizes itself would become an administration. A Church that merely prays, without reorganizing itself, risks becoming merely an empty promise.

The after-effects of the papal visit are therefore somewhat beneficial. They force a shift from emotion to concrete action. What the Pope has sown in large gatherings, the bishop carries forward in a parish hall, where people can express their fears, name their needs, and offer their services.

What Scripture says about shared burden

Moses and the Seventy: The Spirit is not rationed

The Book of Numbers presents a situation of scarcity, and it is similar to our own. Moses, alone at the head of a complaining people, cries out to God that he can no longer bear this burden. God does not answer him by giving him more strength. He asks him to gather seventy elders, and he announces: «I will take some of the Spirit that is on you and put it on them; they will share the burden of the people with you, and you will not have to carry it alone» (Numbers 11:16-17). God’s response to Moses’ weariness is a sharing of the Spirit.

This text shifts the focus. The problem isn't primarily about finding a second Moses. It's about recognizing that the Spirit given to one can be given to many, without the first losing anything of his mission. The narrative goes further: two men, who remained at the camp, also receive the Spirit and prophesy. Joshua is worried and wants to silence them. Moses replies that he wants all the people to be prophets. He isn't afraid of this gift being bestowed.

This scene doesn't suggest that the priest is interchangeable, nor that all priests are equal. It shows that the burden of a people is too heavy for one person alone, and that the Spirit provides for it by opening up multiple responsibilities. In a rural parish, this can take simple forms: a layperson leading prayer, a team visiting the sick, a couple preparing baptisms, a catechist, a sacristan. None of them replaces the priest. All share the burden with him.

Paul and Barnabas: Elders in every church

It is striking that the parish of Héricourt is placed under the patronage of Saint Barnabas. This companion of Paul founded communities with him in the cities of Asia Minor, and the Acts of the Apostles tells us how they did it. At the end of their first journey, passing through the cities where they had proclaimed the Gospel: «They appointed elders for them in each church, and after praying and fasting, they committed them to the Lord, in whom they had put their trust» (Acts 14:23).

Notice the method. The apostles do not stay; they cannot stay. They leave, and after prayer and fasting, they entrust the fledgling communities to local leaders, chosen from among those present. The trust they express is not in their own organization but in the Lord. This passage reminds us that the early Church was founded on proximity: each community had its leaders, rooted in their place, recognized and sent forth.

A bishop today rediscovers this apostolic role: he comes, he listens, he encourages, then he leaves, entrusting the community to those who remain. But it is important to understand the whole picture. Prayer and fasting precede the appointment. Vocation is not a matter of human resources. It is a response to prayer, and that is why prayer for vocations is never a mere spiritual addition, but the first act of pastoral organization.

Ignatius of Antioch and the Curé of Ars: neither clerical nor priestless

Tradition maintains two points of equilibrium. The first comes from Ignatius of Antioch, a martyred bishop of the early second century, who wrote to the communities that there is no Church without bishops, priests, and deacons. For him, the Eucharist creates unity, and the one who presides at the Eucharist is the visible sign of this unity. Therefore, one cannot address the shortage by removing the ordained ministry from ecclesial life. The priest is not just another function. He makes Christ the Good Shepherd present, he absolves, he celebrates the sacrifice.

The second balance comes from Jean-Marie Vianney, the parish priest of Ars, who is often cited in discussions about the scarcity of priests. In a sleepy rural parish, he first made his life visible: prayer, poverty, and his presence in the confessional. He didn't wait for the parish to fill up before becoming an exemplary priest. It was because he was that the parish was transformed. His example reminds us that a priest's fruitfulness is not primarily measured by his activities.

These two principles together indicate what must be upheld. Without a priest, the community withers, for it loses its sacramental source. But the priest cannot do everything, and a clericalized model, where everything depends on him, exhausts priests and lulls the laity into complacency. The Church needs both: priests who are less isolated and baptized people who are more responsible.

A pastoral visit as a path to the future

The bishop who is listening

In a parish hall, the bishop's words alone are not enough. What matters is what is said in response: the parishioners' anxieties, their weariness, their desires, sometimes their anger. A parish that sees the last priest in the region growing old knows what this means. It doesn't ask for fine speeches; it asks to be heard. By coming, the bishop acknowledges that this humble reality is an integral part of the universal Church.

The shortage reveals something deeper than a lack of personnel: it forces us to ask ourselves what truly constitutes a community. Is it Sunday Mass? That's the pinnacle, without a doubt. But what leads to Mass are the bonds forged during the week: a neighbor knocking on a door, a shared meal, a common prayer. When a parish no longer celebrates the Eucharist every Sunday, these bonds become all the more precious, for they keep the community alive while it waits for its bread.

In this context, Mass is not simply the consumption of a religious service, but the place where a people recognizes itself as a member of a body. Accepting to sometimes travel a few kilometers to gather together, or to welcome a visiting priest who doesn't yet know the faces, is to consent to a form of poverty. It can become a school of communion, provided it is not experienced with resentment.

The young people, the new priest, the lay people

There is encouraging news. The recent installation of a priest in Héricourt was a cause for celebration. Young people were at the heart of the bishop's concerns during his meeting in Chèvremont. And the papal visit was described by some observers as indicative of a Catholic revival among a segment of the youth. None of this is insignificant, but we must remain cautious: a revival without support can fizzle out like a flash in the pan.

Accompanying young people means offering them more than just events. It means providing them with places to pray, to study Scripture, to serve the poor, and to discover that a vocation—priestly, religious, married, or missionary—is a calling. A young person who experienced an emotional moment at a sporting event doesn't magically become a priest. They become one because a community has seen them grow, prayed for them, called them, and supported them when they doubted.

This responsibility belongs to all the baptized. A priest's vocation rarely arises in a vacuum: it is born within a family, in a parish, in the example of a happy priest. Where the faithful pray for their parish priest, surround him, invite him to their table, and support him in his weariness, vocations emerge. Where he is alone and overwhelmed, it becomes difficult to aspire to be like him. The community is the primary breeding ground for ministry.

Hold the lamp

The papal visit was also marked by serious pronouncements, particularly in Lourdes, regarding the violence committed within the Church. Pastoral renewal cannot be discussed without acknowledging these pronouncements. A Church that seeks to renew trust must be capable of truth, and local communities know this: they are the ones who bear the wounds and suspicions in their very flesh. Listening to the victims, protecting the vulnerable, purging the structures that have fostered abuse: all of this is intrinsically linked to the issue of vocations. A people does not entrust its children, nor its hope, to an institution that is not trustworthy.

The shortage of priests can therefore become a time of conversion if it leads us to greater truth, greater simplicity, and greater sharing. It calls for priests who do not see themselves as functionaries of the sacred, for lay people who are not content to be mere consumers, for bishops who walk among their people. It also calls each of us to a more fervent prayer.

On the evening of October 3rd, in Héricourt, the hall will empty and the lights will go out. What will remain is a bishop who listened, parishioners who spoke, and perhaps a few modest decisions. This is how the Kingdom advances: through small, repeated gestures, entrusted to the Spirit. The crowds at large gatherings provided momentum. Now it is up to the church steeples, one by one, to receive it and carry it forward, like Moses, like Paul and Barnabas, with others, and never alone.

Lectio divina

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