Cardinal José Cobo reveals the elaborate machinery behind episcopal appointments while demanding urgent synodal reform of canon law. But the Church’s problem is not a shortage of consultation. It is whether those responsible for choosing her bishops can recognise sound doctrine, pastoral courage and genuine apostolic leadership.
Eighty consultations. Eight hundred pages of testimony. Eighteen members of a Roman dicastery. Three names placed before the Pope. Cardinal José Cobo’s account of how the Catholic Church selects her bishops would be reassuring were administrative thoroughness a reliable measure of ecclesiastical wisdom. Unfortunately, the history of episcopal appointments gives ample reason to question that assumption. A process can be meticulous, confidential and extensively documented, yet still recommend the wrong man.
Speaking at the fourteenth Joan Carrera Tribune in Barcelona on 15 October, the Archbishop of Madrid gave his audience a rare glimpse inside the Dicastery for Bishops, of which he has been a member since September 2023. Apostolic nuncios coordinate enquiries extending beyond the diocese concerned. Reports are collected, candidates assessed, further investigations undertaken and substantial dossiers prepared for consideration in Rome. A designated rapporteur examines the documentation before the dicastery deliberates. Eventually, three names reach the Roman Pontiff. There will be no public electoral exercise, Cobo explained, because episcopal appointments concern persons, their reputations and their suitability for sacred office. His conclusion was unequivocal: Peter decides.¹
There is nothing intrinsically objectionable about this arrangement. Canon 377 already provides for confidential consultation involving bishops, clergy and, where appropriate, lay Catholics distinguished by wisdom. The Pope freely appoints bishops or confirms those legitimately elected. Nor does Catholic doctrine require that the precise administrative method currently employed remain unchanged for all time. The Church has known different procedures for selecting bishops throughout her history. What remains essential is the apostolic office conferred, not the administrative mechanism by which its recipient is identified.²
Yet Cobo’s most consequential observation concerned neither confidentiality nor papal authority. He declared that revising canon law according to synodal principles was becoming urgent. In the same address, he insisted that synodality does not alter the hierarchical nature of the Church, describing it instead as a change in ecclesiastical style rooted in the Church’s life since Pentecost. These propositions are not necessarily incompatible. But their compatibility must be demonstrated rather than assumed. Once a preferred method of consultation becomes obligatory law, the question no longer concerns style alone. It concerns the conditions under which ecclesiastical authority is exercised.
This is precisely the development Nuntiatoria has been examining. On 30 September, Vatican III by Stealth? When “Reception” Becomes Revision considered Archbishop Anthony Randazzo’s warning against interpretations of synodality which would discard inherited ecclesiastical structures as expendable relics. Randazzo, Prefect of the Dicastery for Legislative Texts, emphasised that canon law must remain rooted in Scripture and Apostolic Tradition. The following day, Synodality’s Next Step: Writing the Revolution into Canon Law examined proposals to give the synodal programme more permanent juridical expression. What had initially been presented as a renewed pastoral disposition was advancing towards incorporation into the ordinary structures and obligations of ecclesiastical government.³
Cobo’s intervention supplies a revealing development. Here is a cardinal directly involved in selecting future bishops, defending the hierarchical principle governing those appointments while urging further canonical adaptation to synodal practice. He does not propose abolishing papal primacy or making bishops answerable to an electorate. Indeed, he expressly rejects that conception. The concern is more subtle: how far may the procedures surrounding an exercise of authority become obligatory before they begin to determine the practical character of the authority itself?
The distinction matters. A bishop who consults carefully before making a decision remains responsible for that decision. A bishop required to obtain the consent of specified bodies before exercising particular powers occupies a different juridical position. Canon law already recognises both consultation and consent, and neither is intrinsically incompatible with episcopal jurisdiction. The difficulty arises when the extension of such requirements is treated as necessarily beneficial, without sufficient consideration of what belongs properly to the bishop’s office.
The German experience has demonstrated why this is not merely an academic concern. In The Laity Synodality Forgot, Nuntiatoria examined the objections raised at Fulda by Catholics who questioned whether Germany’s developing synodal institutions could reconcile representative decision-making with the Church’s hierarchical constitution. The controversy concerns more than whether laypeople should be heard. It concerns the establishment of permanent bodies whose deliberations may determine the practical direction of episcopal government while leaving the bishop’s formal authority ostensibly intact. A signature may remain in the bishop’s hand even when the effective terms of his decision have been established elsewhere.⁴
None of this makes consultation objectionable. The Church has always employed councils, chapters, advisers and assemblies. Wise bishops have sought counsel from those possessing knowledge or experience greater than their own. The mistake lies in assuming that multiplying consultative structures necessarily improves the quality of government.
Cobo’s description of episcopal selection supplies an unusually useful test of that assumption. He explained that even a relatively small diocese may generate approximately eighty preliminary reports, with further enquiries undertaken where necessary. Some dossiers extend to eight hundred pages. Yet these figures establish only the quantity of information collected. They tell us remarkably little about its reliability.
Who chooses the consultees? How are candidates identified before enquiries begin? What weight is attached to doctrinal fidelity, liturgical seriousness, pastoral courage or a demonstrated willingness to defend the faith? How are unfavourable assessments distinguished from personal grievances? What happens when a candidate enjoys the confidence of ecclesiastical administrators but has failed to command the respect of priests and faithful Catholics who know his actual ministry? And how effectively can the process detect the mutual reinforcement of recommendations within a narrow circle of influential officials?
These are not accusations against the Dicastery for Bishops. They are questions which any serious examination of an appointment system must ask. The Cardinal described the machinery. He did not establish that its operation consistently produces the best candidates.
His observation that the dicastery aspires to consult equal numbers of clergy and laity is similarly revealing. Such an arrangement may broaden the evidence available. It does not guarantee independence, balance or representativeness. Twenty respondents sharing the same institutional assumptions may contribute less useful information than five independent witnesses whose knowledge is direct and whose judgements are candid. The quality of testimony matters more than the arithmetic of participation.
There is an additional irony. The Church already possesses exceptionally demanding canonical criteria for episcopal appointments. Canon 378 requires candidates to be outstanding in solid faith, good morals, piety, zeal for souls, wisdom, prudence and the human virtues necessary for their office. They must possess the required theological or canonical competence, or genuine expertise in those disciplines. The definitive judgement concerning suitability belongs to the Apostolic See. These standards do not await a synodal revision before becoming applicable. They require faithful observance.²
Consider what they mean in practice. A bishop must teach the Catholic Faith without embarrassment or ambiguity. He must preserve the integrity of the sacraments, safeguard the sacred liturgy, care for his priests, correct error and defend those entrusted to his government. He must possess sufficient courage to make unpopular decisions, including those which displease influential ecclesiastical colleagues. His office does not exist to manufacture consensus among competing interests. It exists to govern a particular Church in fidelity to Christ.
Administrative competence has its place, but it is not the essence of episcopal ministry. A bishop may chair meetings effectively, produce impressive strategic plans, supervise diocesan restructuring and maintain excellent relationships with civil authorities while presiding over doctrinal confusion and diminishing sacramental life. Conversely, a bishop may possess the qualities of an exemplary pastor without displaying the polished managerial instincts which modern institutions so readily mistake for leadership.
The question is whether the appointment process sufficiently distinguishes between these things.
Nor can the wider crisis of episcopal accountability be resolved by invoking the thoroughness of preliminary enquiries. When a bishop proves incapable of governing effectively, who examines the recommendations upon which his appointment was based? If serious concerns were raised during the selection process, were they properly investigated? When a diocese experiences sustained pastoral deterioration, is the bishop’s contribution to that decline ever seriously considered, or is responsibility absorbed into general explanations about secularisation and demographic change?
Not every declining diocese possesses an inadequate bishop. Cultural hostility, financial pressures, changing populations and the weakening of Catholic family life are real factors beyond any one prelate’s control. Equally, these realities cannot become universal excuses for defective leadership. An appointment system which devotes hundreds of pages to predicting suitability ought to be capable of learning from the consequences of its decisions.
Confidentiality is therefore both necessary and demanding. Cobo was right to insist that episcopal investigations concern human reputations. Public electoral campaigns would introduce pressures fundamentally different from those appropriate to the selection of successors of the Apostles. But secrecy places a correspondingly greater burden upon the integrity of those conducting the enquiries. Where evidence cannot ordinarily be examined publicly, the responsibility to assess it accurately becomes more, not less, serious.
There is a direct connection here with the Church’s current enthusiasm for synodal listening. Catholics are repeatedly encouraged to speak, participate and make their experiences known. Yet the experience of traditional Catholics raises an uncomfortable question. How consistently is their testimony received when it challenges diocesan policy or prevailing assumptions about liturgical and ecclesiastical life? How frequently are their requests for the preservation of established worship regarded as legitimate pastoral concerns rather than evidence of resistance to an approved programme of reform?
Canon 212 §3 already recognises the right, and sometimes the duty, of the faithful to make known their concerns about the welfare of the Church, while respecting faith, morals, their pastors and the dignity of other persons. That right was not invented by the synodal movement. It is not confined to members of pastoral councils or those selected for official listening exercises. A Catholic does not require an invitation to a diocesan assembly before possessing the right to express a considered objection to ecclesiastical policy.⁵
If synodality is to be understood as a genuine renewal of ecclesiastical consultation, it must be capable of receiving unwelcome testimony. Otherwise the multiplication of opportunities to speak may disguise the concentration of influence among those who select participants, determine the questions, summarise the responses and announce the conclusions.
Cobo himself supplied a valuable standard when he argued that those exercising authority should be prepared to explain their decisions. He described accountability as extending beyond financial reporting and insisted upon the obligation to listen, decide, explain and review. This is an entirely proper demand. Episcopal authority is not diminished by justice, transparency or the willingness to acknowledge mistakes. But accountability must apply to the machinery of ecclesiastical government as well as to those subject to its decisions. It cannot mean that parish priests must justify their judgements while the procedures by which bishops are selected remain effectively insulated from examination.
The Cardinal also appealed to St Vincent of Lérins and the principle of authentic doctrinal development. His invocation is particularly appropriate to the canonical question he raised. Genuine development preserves the identity of what develops. It cannot be established merely by describing a proposed institutional innovation as the recovery of an ancient principle. The presence of consultation in the apostolic Church does not demonstrate the legitimacy of every modern structure established in its name. The Council of Jerusalem was an exercise of apostolic judgement concerning revealed truth, not a constitutional precedent for transferring doctrinal authority to representative assemblies.⁶
Cobo’s assurance that synodality does not change the hierarchical nature of the Church should consequently be treated as a necessary boundary. But a boundary has meaning only if it excludes something. If a proposed canonical provision would compromise the responsibility proper to a diocesan bishop, the difficulty cannot be resolved simply by declaring that the hierarchy remains formally intact. The actual juridical consequences must be examined.
Here Archbishop Randazzo’s earlier warning acquires its full significance. The Church can revise disciplinary provisions, improve consultation and strengthen safeguards against arbitrary government. She cannot employ canon law to establish, gradually and almost imperceptibly, an ecclesiology different from the one she has received. Law is not merely the administrative expression of contemporary preferences. It protects the faithful, defines responsibilities, provides remedies against injustice and gives juridical expression to an authority which the Church did not invent.
St John Paul II stated the distinction with particular clarity in 2004. Addressing the Congregation for the Clergy, he warned that legitimate pastors must not be reduced to executors of decisions reached through majority consensus in ecclesiastical assemblies. The Church’s hierarchical constitution, he explained, rests upon the will of Christ and belongs to the deposit of faith. His intervention was not an argument against cooperation between clergy and laity. It established the doctrinal limits within which such cooperation must operate.⁷
There remains the question of papal responsibility. Cobo’s concluding insistence that Peter decides was both accurate and significant. But if Peter decides, Peter also bears responsibility for the decision. A poor episcopal appointment does not become less consequential because a nuncio collected extensive testimony or because eighteen members of a dicastery considered the file. Consultation assists judgement. It does not transfer ultimate responsibility to an anonymous collective.
Pope Leo XIV understands the system from within, having served as Prefect of the Dicastery for Bishops before his election. Cobo suggested that the Pontiff had already begun introducing changes to the appointment process, although he did not specify their nature. There has been no sufficiently detailed public explanation of those changes upon which to base an assessment. Nevertheless, Leo’s experience places him in a particularly strong position to distinguish defects of procedure from defects of judgement.¹
That distinction should govern the wider question of canonical reform. Before additional structures become obligatory, Rome ought to identify what existing law has failed to provide and why. Before prescribing new consultative processes, it ought to establish whether the opportunities already available are being used properly. Before enlarging the influence of permanent administrative bodies, it ought to determine whether those bodies will sharpen responsibility or make it harder to discover who is actually accountable.
The danger is not simply bureaucracy, although the Church possesses more than enough of that already. It is the substitution of procedural legitimacy for substantive fidelity: the assumption that a decision must be sound because an approved process produced it. In such circumstances, the machinery ceases to serve judgement and begins to excuse its failures.
This temptation is particularly dangerous in the Church because her purpose is supernatural. She does not exist to demonstrate the sophistication of her consultative arrangements. She exists to preserve and proclaim the truth entrusted to her by Christ, administer the means of grace and lead souls towards eternal salvation. Her institutions have value in proportion to their service of that mission.
Cardinal Cobo has therefore supplied a useful test of contemporary synodality. Episcopal appointments already involve extensive consultation, confidential deliberation, participation by clergy and laity, and a final decision reserved to competent authority. If the system consistently identifies worthy shepherds, its methods deserve confidence. Where it fails, its deficiencies must be recognised and corrected. Neither conclusion follows from the number of respondents or the thickness of the dossiers placed before Rome.
The Church does not need eight hundred pages to establish the essential qualifications of a bishop. She has already stated them in her law and preserved their substance through twenty centuries: fidelity to the Apostolic Faith, holiness of life, sound judgement, zeal for souls and the courage to shepherd Christ’s flock.
Finding such men is difficult. Recognising them requires discernment. Appointing them demands responsibility.
No quantity of consultation can compensate for the absence of those three things.
1. InfoVaticana, Cobo, en Barcelona: dosieres de 800 páginas, ternas y un Papa que sigue «firmando papeles», 17 October 2026; Tribuna Joan Carrera, José Cobo Cano — XIV Tribuna Joan Carrera, 15 October 2026.
2. Codex Iuris Canonici (1983), Canons 375–380: Bishops and Episcopal Appointments.
3. Nuntiatoria, Vatican III by Stealth? When “Reception” Becomes Revision, 30 September 2026; Synodality’s Next Step: Writing the Revolution into Canon Law, 1 October 2026.
4. Nuntiatoria, Fulda’s Protest: Unheard Voices in Germany’s Synodal Struggle, 2 October 2026.
5. Codex Iuris Canonici (1983), Canon 212 §3: Obligations and Rights of the Christian Faithful.
6. St Vincent of Lérins, Commonitorium, chapter 23; InfoVaticana, Report of Cardinal Cobo’s Joan Carrera Address, 17 October 2026.
7. Pope John Paul II, Address to the Participants in the Plenary Assembly of the Congregation for the Clergy, 10 January 2004.
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