A Vatican commission has again said “no” to women deacons, while leaving the door cracked. Opening it wider can’t be a task for women alone.
Following the multi-year Synod on Synodality, the Petrocchi Commission, which was examining the possibility of ordaining women to the permanent diaconate, reviewed testimonies from women who believe they are called to this ministry. Then, in December 2025, they released their report. The commission voted against recommending the ordination of women to the ministry of deacon, but indicated its assessment did not “allow for a definitive judgment” and that further study, including on the diaconate itself, was needed. A troubling aspect of the report was that it seemed to reduce women’s calls to a mere feeling.
The working document produced after the first stage of the Synod on Synodality stated: “From all continents comes an appeal for Catholic women to be valued first and foremost as baptised and equal members of the People of God.” Certainly, the perennial question of women’s roles in the life of the church is not limited to the diaconate alone. But the larger conversation on women’s roles has often lacked urgency, transparency, and genuine discernment—and in some spaces, even compassion. All of which are needed in response to the appeal that women be truly valued as equal.
The document’s appeal was directed to the entire church but, in my experience, including through ongoing involvement with Discerning Deacons, the responsibility of advancing women’s ministries has fallen almost entirely on women themselves. Yet promoting women’s roles in the church is, I believe, the responsibility of all Catholics.
At a Boston College lecture this summer celebrating St. Mary Magdalene and featuring synod delegate Cynthia Bailey Manns, the woman sitting next to me in the audience commented, “I’m surprised to be sitting between two men at an event like this.” I was struck, in part because I had never met this woman before, but also because I understood her surprise. In moments like these, I’m challenged to let comments, testimonies, or laments sink in. And in my heart lives deep gratitude for the many women who have shaped my own faith life—who have been deacons for me.
I’m grateful in a particular way for the women serving as chaplains at my undergraduate alma mater, College of the Holy Cross, who helped form me for ministry. Pope Francis could have easily been talking about them during his prepared remarks for the Jubilee of Deacons in February 2025: He reflected on the call of deacons to the peripheries and celebrated their ministry to make society more welcoming. He said they are “sculptors” and “painters” of God’s merciful face. They promote communion by telling others through word and action: “‘You are important to us;’ ‘We love you;’ We want you to be part of our journey and our life.’”
These chaplains embody the mercy of God––mercy that extends to all people without exception. They make sure their ministry reaches the peripheries of campus, reminding students they are important and loved.
After graduating, I pursued graduate studies in theology and ministry. When it came time to complete the practicum required for my degree, I reflected on what I wanted to learn and where that learning might be possible. Before requesting a placement at Holy Cross, I had to confirm with myself that I wasn’t hoping to return out of a desire for safety. Rather, quite the opposite: I wanted to be pushed and to grow as a minister of mercy, love, and hospitality.
My practicum year was challenging. I’m prone to imposter syndrome and it hit hard. My supervisor, Meg, who had accompanied me through the early nudges of my call to ministry, nurtured my sense of ministerial confidence and identity. Slowly but surely, confidence grew and identity formed.
My ministry today finds me working in Catholic theological education with ministers in formation. It’s a profound grace each year to learn their call stories, stories that must always be treated with reverence. These stories represent diverse paths and ecclesial locations––geographic, spiritual, and ministerial. Certainly, some are more developed than others, but all are driven by a sense of deep faith and a desire to serve the church.
In paragraph 60 of the Synod on Synodality’s final document, now part of the church’s magisterial teaching authority, the delegates state, “By virtue of Baptism, women and men have equal dignity as members of the People of God… There is no reason or impediment that should prevent women from carrying out leadership roles in the Church: what comes from the Holy Spirit cannot be stopped.” The delegates continue: “Additionally, the question of women’s access to diaconal ministry remains open. This discernment needs to continue.”
Each paragraph of the final document needed to be ratified by two-third of the synod’s delegates. Paragraph 60 met that threshold, passing 258-97, which means that this sentiment was shared by well over a majority of those representing the global church. We’ll never know who voted for it, but mathematically, it would have required the assent of a majority of bishops and cardinals present to pass.
I feel a deep sense of responsibility in response to students’ call stories, which continue to evolve throughout their studies. I try to help them navigate challenges, make connections, and pursue opportunities to enrich their growth and sense of identity. This certainly holds true no matter a student’s gender, but the synod document reminds us that women face particular challenges in “obtaining a fuller recognition of their charisms, vocation and place in all the various areas of the Church’s life.” These obstacles are “to the detriment of the church’s shared mission.” This mission, in all its dimensions, must truly be shared.
A student I don’t know well said to me recently, “If the permanent diaconate becomes open to women, I would be the first to sign up.” She said this unaware of my involvement with Discerning Deacons. I know of many others, students and practicing ministers, who would be in line with her.
If advancing women’s roles is the work of the entire church, what can this look like for men?
First and foremost, it means listening to—and trusting—the experiences of Catholic women. In addition to those in our own lives, there are many public stories of women who feel a deep sense of call to leadership roles in the church. This includes the testimonies submitted to the Petrocchi Commission by women who feel a call to the permanent diaconate. Discerning Deacons and Loyola Productions have also produced a microseries Called to Serve that features the stories of 11 women. These stories were released on Instagram: @discerningdeacons or @loyolaproductions.
It can also look like showing up to events, actions, or conversations regarding women in the church, even (especially!) if other men show little interest. Or it can look like advocating for increased opportunities for women within parishes, schools, or other ministry sites.
Ultimately, it means adopting a posture of openness toward the questions. Too often, I’ve seen them met with a sense of fatigue: “We’re talking about this again?” The conversation will continue until there is fuller recognition of women’s charisms, vocation, and place in the church. I’ve also seen defeatism: “There’s nothing we can do.” While this can be a good-faith lament, it can also be a stalling tactic. The questions can also be met with fear of “opening a can of worms” or upsetting the wrong person. Such fear does not come from the Holy Spirit.
As a church, we’re not conditioned well for the work of communal discernment or navigating impasse. Through the ongoing project of becoming a more synodal church, however, Pope Francis, and now Pope Leo, have created space for these questions—and for the work of the Spirit. Our willingness to participate has profound implications for the mission of the church.
Neither the church nor anyone in it, regardless of gender, is a monolith, so the path forward will likely include some uncertainty that might feel like chaos. Pope Francis reminded us, however, that the Holy Spirit can lead us from chaos to a new harmony.
Such harmony is distinct from the cheap unity that is determined by the norms of the status quo. True harmony requires journeying together, probably with bumps along the way. But, as the Synod delegates exclaimed: What comes from the Holy Spirit cannot be stopped.
Image: Unsplash/Kunsh Ahuja
Add comment