My first thought was that, with recent developments under the leadership of Pope Francis, most especially, synodality, we no longer need a movement like ACTA, because the climate for communication with the Church is much healthier than it was when ACTA was set up in 2012. I am heavily committed to synodality as the path towards a more healthy Church and I hope that it will deliver on its promises. In principle, at least, if synodality truly becomes our way of being Church, much of what many of us hoped for from ACTA will have become a reality: mature, serious, genuinely open and mutually respectful dialogue between all members of the Church.
However, I am well aware that there are powerful forces within the Church who strenuously oppose the initiatives of this papacy, who want to turn the clock back to a fortress Church and who see openings towards being a more pastoral and inclusive Church as somehow corrosive of truth and tradition. Depending on who is elected the next Pope – which cannot be many years away – many of the humane and pastoral seeds sown during this papacy could be rejected rather than nourished. And, it is important to remember that there are still many aspects of church governance and practice that are in urgent need of reform.
This is what I wrote about ACTA in March 2015:
I only ever envisaged ACTA as a kind of ‘ginger-group’ – seeking to urge the wider church to live out what it had already committed itself to at Vatican II but which it had at least partly lost sight of – listening to the people of God, inclusivity, collegiality, openness to diversity within our communion, pastoral sensitivity to complex situations rather than insisting on rigid and impersonal uniformity. My goal was that ACTA would exist only briefly as a temporary movement to press the church to return to the vision of Vatican II, to resist the excessive centralisation that has taken place, to open the windows (just as Pope Francis has done), but above all, to bring pressure to bear on those who control our internal communication within the church, preventing true dialogue.
The failure to listen to the experience of the ordinary Catholic and the narrowing down of the oughteries and arteries of the church has reinforced a tendency to infantilise the laity in general, to promote apathy, to ignore the promptings of the Holy Spirit, for example, in calling out vocations that are not recognised by church authorities (there never has been, nor could there be, a vocations crisis, because vocations are called forth by God); but we have witnessed a wilful, sinful ignoring by our leaders of the vocations that God is calling; such leaders fall into idolatry in the manner in which they rely upon past structures and ways of doing things – forgetting that these were once themselves responses by people to what was felt to be the needs of the time. The gifts and experience and insights of women have been disgracefully ignored or marginalised, but the church would be nowhere without their efforts, patience, perseverance, and huge contribution over the centuries and today.
Without an atmosphere of open, honest, respectful, serious and engaged dialogue within the church between all parties and at all levels, there cannot be mature discipleship, nor mutual responsibility, nor healthy growth. I do not envisage ACTA as a parallel church, or as an alternative to church. It will have succeeded in its mission when it is no longer required – when the institutional church has opened itself up to the kind of dialogue I refer to. Such a culture change will be very difficult; we have been so used to unhealthy relationships and patterns of communication for so long that all of us, whatever our position, will find it hard to adjust to the pattern of engagement, responsibility and dialogue that is needed to live out the Gospel as a church community.
We are still in the early stages of that process.
For some people ACTA has been a lifeline, helping them not to lose faith, even if their local church circumstances are unhealthy and hurtful. ACTA has helped them not to feel alone – knowing that there are others who share their aspirations for a more loving, inclusive, joyful and just Church. ACTA has provided a safe space for people to share wounds inflicted by the Church, to be revitalised by the teaching of Vatican II, to deepen their commitment to the Gospel, and to press for a more healthy communication climate within the Church.
May I share three thoughts which might have a bearing on how ACTA develops as we look ahead? However, I do not spell out how ACTA might respond to these three thoughts; I simply want to suggest that they might be worth taking into account – as we deliberate about the future. The first thought is about the parish; the second is about a new experience of Catholicism (and Christianity more generally); the third is about the importance of hearing each person’s story.
First, I see the role of the parish as: to provide a safe space to speak Jesus and share his love
- Speak to Jesus, in devotion, prayer and worship;
- about/of Jesus, to others, in witnessing & faith-sharing;
- with Jesus, as part of the Body of Christ, attuned to his Spirit;
- for Jesus, imaged in the poor, marginalised, vulnerable, needy – in acts of service, being his voice, ears, hands & heart for others;
- as Jesus, as we each become another Christ, filled with his life and giving new personal renditions of his message.
Second, our moment is one of a diaspora Catholicism as it was in the days of the early Church and as it was again after the Reformation. A diaspora Catholicism lacks the strong institutional structures that upheld, even imposed the faith. A diaspora Catholicism is more dispersed, looser, less systemic, more informal, more co-responsible and participative, a more flexible experience of faith life. A diaspora Church means less centralisation, less reliance on structure, greater flexibility, deeper connection to the roots of our faith, much greater inclusivity, increased risk-taking, true accountability, massively increased participation, and authentic collegiality among us.
Third, there is a new story in each of us. No matter how much we draw from the living tradition of the Church and the faith practices she proposes to us; no matter how often we read the holy scriptures; no matter how carefully we listen to sermons; no matter how deeply we study the teaching of theologians who are entrusted with articulating the Christian message in language relevant to our culture and its questions; no matter how often we pray - the story of Jesus remains unfathomable; it is never fully told, nor completely understood. There is always more to say because every time a person opens up his or her heart to Jesus, there is a new beginning, a new chapter of the Gospel is being written, as his story becomes gradually our own, as he comes, more and more, to live in us. This is why, if we are truly to be a learning Church, we must work harder and harder at, and get better and better at, listening to each other’s faith story, hearing how, through our individual trials, temptations and troubles, our worries and concerns, our joys, enthusiasms and interests, in short, how through the immense diversity of our experiences, God in Christ and by the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, calls us, speaks to us, heals us, corrects us, forgives us, enlightens us, consoles us, strengthens us – all ways of loving us into real life.
John Sullivan, November 2022
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