From Ascension Thursday, May 14, to Sunday, May 17, the city of Würzburg was full of Catholics. The Catholic Days (Katholikentage) are a biennial gathering of thousands of people from across the German-speaking world and beyond.
With hundreds of discussions, workshops, liturgies, and a Church Mile lined with tents representing organisations, movements, and groups promoting their particular “church perspective,” it is a huge undertaking that is rarely, if ever, seen elsewhere.
The event is made possible through church tax revenue, ticket sales, and additional sponsorship.
Historical Roots and Contemporary Context
The Catholic Days began in the mid-nineteenth century as a lay movement seeking to discuss and shape an evolving understanding of Catholic politics and Catholic democracy in Germany.
The movement developed throughout the early and mid-twentieth century and reflects, at least in part, the complex relationship between the Catholic Church and modern German history.
The historical backdrop includes post-Napoleonic secularisation; the Kaiserzeit and the establishment of Prussian dominance following the Franco-Prussian War; the emergence of democratic political thought in nineteenth-century Europe; the Kulturkampf; the First World War; the collapse of the Bavarian and Prussian monarchies; the Weimar Republic; the development of Catholic political parties; the rise of National Socialism; the Second World War; dictatorship and the Holocaust; the Concordats between the Holy See and various German governments; the Cold War and the division of Germany; the economic miracle of the 1950s and 1960s; the student movements of the late twentieth century; and the significant contribution of the German Church to the Second Vatican Council.
This history provides the context for contemporary Catholic culture in Germany, where an increasing number of baptised Catholics formally leave the Church through repudiation, often as a protest against the Church Tax system or in response to abuses of power and failures within ecclesiastical institutions.
Against this background, the Catholic Days represent a form of lay engagement in both politics and ecclesial life that is largely unparalleled elsewhere.
I would suggest that this history contributes significantly to the German Synodal Experience and continues to shape discussions around the ordination of women, queer rights, recognition of same-sex relationships, the inclusion of lay people in episcopal appointments and governance structures, and the development of lay ministry as a standard and established form of ministry rather than an exceptional substitute exercised only in the absence of ordained clergy.
Politics at the Centre
I was struck by how political the event was and by the prominence of political figures.
The Federal President opened the gathering and spoke openly about his identity as a German Protestant. He endorsed Pope Leo’s calls for peace and criticised the “powerful of this world” who attack such efforts rather than support them. He also called for greater ecumenical engagement.
The Federal Chancellor attended a workshop with young people, where some participants heckled him. Afterwards, he toured the Church Mile and engaged with the public, all under highly visible security. Other political leaders were also present, including the Minister-President of Bavaria, who hosted a reception following the opening ceremony.
Bishops, Preaching, and Imagination
Some, though not all, German bishops attended the event. Of the speakers and homilists I heard, they were among the least impressive.
Their homilies often relied upon familiar forms of “sermon-speak,” while their contributions to discussions about parish closures and the future of the Church suggested a lack of vision and imagination.
To be fair, perhaps they are men who are no longer able—or no longer permitted—to imagine a future beyond preserving the dominant Tridentine paradigm of Church, sacraments, ministry, hierarchy, and structure.
Yet many laypeople are also caught within this framework. Even those advocating for expanded lay ministry frequently operate within the same clericalised imagination, seeking to replace clergy while retaining the assumptions and structures that produced the present crisis.
The most compelling homily I heard came from the Director of the German Bibelwerk.
Because the liturgical protocol did not permit her to preach independently or in dialogue with the presiding bishop, her homily took the form of an extended reflection on the Sunday readings. Her words were intelligent, inspiring, and warmly received, attracting spontaneous applause.
Who Was There?
From my casual observation, the majority of participants were Catholics aged 60 and above. The youngest attendees appeared to be in their late teens and twenties, while those in the middle generations were notable largely by their absence.
In this respect, the gathering reflected the demographic reality of many German parishes and dioceses. It also seemed to reflect the social and ecclesial concerns that dominated Catholic discussions during the 1970s, 1980s, and early 1990s.
The difficulty is that society has moved on significantly, while the Church continues to struggle to articulate compelling reasons for people to remain engaged with Catholicism.
Many younger participants appeared reactive to the concerns and experiences of the more dominant senior generation.
Polarisation between “senior” and “junior” generations is not really the point. The labels themselves are inadequate. Nevertheless, they point towards a deeper difference in worldview.
Competing Visions of Church and World
What I observed—predominantly, though not exclusively, among different age groups—was a significant divergence in how people understand the relationship between the Church and contemporary political and social questions.
Some view questions of society, politics, identity, and human biology as the issues that must shape theology, governance, and the Church’s ethical positions.
In this understanding, the world evangelises the Church, and the Church must adapt if it wishes to remain authentic and relevant.
Others believe that the Church evangelises the world by challenging it and calling it to conversion.
In this view, the Church remains the teacher of truth and value, and therefore social and political developments should not determine ecclesial teaching, ministry, governance, or sacramental practice.
For one group, the pressing questions of contemporary society should frame the Church’s approach to theology, leadership, ministry, and governance. For the other, there remains a clear distinction between the Church’s internal life and broader social debates, and the Church should not simply yield to social pressure in matters of doctrine, ethics, ministry, governance, or sacramental mediation.
One example emerged when a group of participants complained that a queer pride flag was displayed in a church setting.
“The Church has a clear stance on this, and this flag should not be here,” a younger woman in her twenties told me.
An older woman responded, “It should be here because it shows we are not separate from the world.”
The exchange encapsulated a much larger disagreement.
A Generationally Influenced Divide
Although these divisions are not entirely generational, they are clearly influenced by generational experience.
Many in the senior generation want to see women occupying leadership, management, and sacramental roles alongside more inclusive liturgical practices. Many in the younger generation favour celibate male clergy who exercise leadership and sacramental ministry within a more traditional liturgical framework.
The senior generation wants to see a future for the Church they are leaving behind. Yet they often do not want that future to resemble the vision held by younger Catholics because it does not reflect either their own aspirations or those of their children and grandchildren, many of whom are no longer participating in church life.
At the same time, many younger Catholics who desire a socially conservative Church and a “traditional” (or perhaps more accurately, ritually engaging) liturgy frequently support a socially progressive society in which same-sex relationships are accepted, and women enjoy full opportunities for leadership and advancement—provided these developments do not extend into the structures of the Church itself.
Conclusion
The Katholikentag remains one of the most distinctive expressions of German Catholicism.
It is simultaneously a religious festival, a political forum, a theological marketplace, and a mirror reflecting the hopes, anxieties, and contradictions of contemporary Catholic life in Germany.
What struck me most was not the familiar debates themselves but the extent to which different groups seemed to inhabit fundamentally different understandings of the Church’s purpose and relationship to society. Beneath discussions about ministry, governance, sexuality, liturgy, and authority lies a deeper question: does the Church primarily learn from the world, or does it seek to teach and transform it? This is the focus of the new Master’s degree at the Faculty of Theology in Wurzburg.
The answer is far from settled.
If the Katholikentag revealed anything, it is that German Catholicism is not merely debating particular reforms; it is wrestling with competing visions of what the Church is, what it should become, and who has the authority to define that future.