Archbishop John C. Wester of Santa Fe, N.M., offers a reflection during a prayer service for United Nations diplomats at the Church of the Holy Family in New York City on Sept. 12, 2022. Credit: OSV News photo/Gregory A. Shemitz.

In 1 Samuel 3, we hear a scriptural lesson we would do well to heed today. In the silence of the night, the young Samuel hears a voice calling to him, a call he did not initially recognize as the Lord’s. It takes the elder Eli, a man of experience and humility, to listen and help the boy discern that God was indeed speaking. In my years of episcopal ministry, I have come to realize that we bishops are called to be like Eli. The bishop’s charism is not merely to dictate, but to discern. Like Eli, we must be servants of the Word that is already speaking in the hearts of the faithful.

As bishops, we sometimes assume we are the only teachers, but as the Synod on Synodality has reminded us, we are co-responsible with the laity for the life of the church. Pope Francis said as much on the 50th anniversary of the Synod of Bishops:

A synodal Church is a Church which listens, which realizes that listening “is more than simply hearing.” It is a mutual listening in which everyone has something to learn. The faithful people, the college of bishops, the Bishop of Rome: all listening to each other, and all listening to the Holy Spirit, the “Spirit of truth” (Jn 14:17), in order to know what he “says to the Churches” (Rev 2:7).

I recently attended a meeting in Racine, Wis., organized by New Ways Ministry, where I saw the scriptural dynamic between Eli and Samuel come to life. At this meeting, bishops encountered and dialogued with theologians, pastoral workers and L.G.B.T.Q. persons. This time together deepened my pastoral concern, understanding and right judgment about the lives of L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics.

Throughout our dialogue in Racine, I was struck by the urgent need for the church to develop a pastoral approach that more compassionately listens to the needs of the people of God today. As a church, I fear we are not drawing near enough to our L.G.B.T.Q. brothers and sisters; we are not moving forward together on the same journey. This is especially true when it comes to the experiences of our transgender and nonbinary people, many of whom feel we approach them with suspicion and hostility. There is a persistent tendency in our discourse to seek simple, categorical answers for what are, in reality, deeply complex and personal human journeys.

We encountered something similar in the testimonies included in the Final Report of Study Group #9 from the Synod on Synodality. That document relates the firsthand accounts of some of our L.G.B.T.Q. brothers and sisters of “situations of polarization and division regarding believers with same-sex attractions, as well as attitudes of rejection or fear.” Among the questions the Final Report asks is the following:

The stories we have heard do not lack a critical awareness of the impact—not only personal but communal, both social and ecclesial—of the experiences witnessed. In this regard, what does the experience of suffering, solitude, and exclusion recounted in these stories say to and bring to the Christian community? Is it merely a matter of “non-conformity” to conventional ecclesial and social standards to which the person must be realigned, or does this “suffering” speak of something deeper?

My time in Racine was also an opportunity to gain a deeper, more empathetic view about transgender people. I learned a basic and significant fact: How we understand our gender is determined by specialized areas within the brain. 

I thought about our society from the early 20th century until the 1960s, when we often forced left-handed children to write with their right hand. I wondered if we were in a similar situation today by equating gender identity with some aberration.

Indeed, science was given a human face during our dialogues. We heard moving testimonies from a transgender man and the mother of a transgender girl, both describing a profound, innate sense of identity that was manifested as early as 3 years of age. Such accounts suggest that gender identity is not a mere “choice” or a passing “phase” but a deeply felt experience of personhood, seemingly rooted in the intricate interplay of biology and neurology. Respect for this innate concept of self that originates in the brain, as part of the body, is essential to recognizing the dignity of each human being.

We were invited to bring these insights into a prayerful dialogue with our tradition of natural law. Our moral heritage has long maintained that faith and reason are the “two wings” upon which the human spirit rises to contemplate the truth. Therefore, our theological reflection remains incomplete if it is closed to the findings of all the sciences. By dialoguing with scientific insights and the lived realities of the faithful, we do not abandon our tradition; rather, we fulfill it.

If we close our ears to these insights and testimonies, we risk falling into a spiritual slumber akin to Eli’s initial lack of perception, a slumber that could silence the word of the Lord in a new generation. While Eli did eventually recognize the Lord’s voice, his delay serves as a sobering warning for the church today. If we remain closed to the lived experiences of our people, we risk a prolonged failure of discernment, potentially leaving the Lord’s call unanswered while we remain fixed in our old assumptions. 

Listening allows us to move beyond an initial hesitation so that we may help the Samuels of our day recognize that God is at work in their lives in ways we may not always initially understand.

We see in the back-and-forth rhythm between Eli and Samuel that accompaniment is not a one-way street. Rather, it is a dialogue of mutual enrichment. Eli listens to Samuel, and Samuel listens to Eli; and both eventually hear and know that the Lord is calling. So, too, did the Second Vatican Council teach that bishops must “know how much the laity contribute to the welfare of the entire Church. Pastors also know that they themselves were not meant by Christ to shoulder alone the entire saving mission of the Church toward the world” (“Dogmatic Constitution on the Church” [“Lumen Gentium”],  No. 30).

The people of God—especially those who have often felt rejected or outcast, like L.G.B.T.Q. people—bring unique gifts and insights to our communities. Despite painful experiences of abandonment and isolation, they still follow the Spirit in their own lives with a faithfulness that inspires.

Our role as bishops is to facilitate a space where the discernment between Eli and Samuel can happen prayerfully and respectfully in every faith community. While we bishops offer the gentle guidance of the church’s perennial wisdom, we are also called to journey with individuals and families, respecting the sanctuary of the human conscience. For it is here that the individual is alone with God. “In fidelity to conscience, Christians are joined with the rest of humankind in the search for truth” (“Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World” [“Gaudium et Spes”]. No. 16).

I left this time of encounter and dialogue in Racine with a renewed sense of hope, and also a sense of urgency. We cannot remain asleep while so many L.G.B.T.Q. people feel that the church is not connecting with them or, worse, failing to listen to them and welcome them. 

We must move beyond facile condemnations or easy accommodations and wake up to the  “messiness” of real life. By embracing a culture of listening and dialogue, we allow the church to become what it is meant to be: a place where, like Samuel, every person can learn to hear God’s voice and where, like Eli, the leadership of the church can humbly facilitate that sacred encounter. It is a path of mutual learning, and it is the path to which the Holy Spirit summons us as a church that truly seeks to walk together in synodality.

The Most Rev. John C. Wester is the archbishop of Santa Fe, N.M.