Amidst a lack of succession and efforts to keep the faith alive, the island is redrawing its pastoral map with new forms of service, cooperation and commitment

Text: Alba Vázquez de la Torre / Photo: Piter Castillo.

Iglesia Parroquial de Sant Andreu vista desde la Plaça de la Constitució de Santanyí

There is a shortage of priests in Mallorca. The latest diocesan reports paint a clear picture: today there are fewer priests, fewer members of religious orders, and parishes that, in order to remain open, increasingly rely on the strength and initiative of the laity. In 2021, the island had 225 priests, compared with 200 registered in 2024. The number of male and female religious has also fallen, dropping from 526 to 448.

But behind the statistics lie personal stories that explain –and nuance– the phenomenon. One of them is that of 31-year-old Juan Bausá Puigserver, who went from serving nine parishes in the Part Forana to joining a team responsible for five (Portals, Palmanova, Magaluf, Son Ferrer and El Toro). “We organize ourselves as best we can, and in the end one priest ends up attending many parishes. It’s impossible to have Mass every day in every place,” Bausá explains. What saddens him most is not having enough time for what is essential. “Being able to visit the sick and listen to those in need is very important, it gives life to the parish. But we have to divide ourselves into a thousand tasks,” he adds.

Priest Carlos Fuentes Gómez, a Franciscan, has spent 43 years between classrooms and parishes. He first came to Mallorca as summer support and today serves as rector of Es Capdellà, Santa Ponça, Peguera and Calvià, in addition to being the bishop’s delegate for Media. His diagnosis is practical: “The reality is that vocations continue to decline, but teamwork is growing.”

In the Ponent area, he explains, services have been reorganized: one single parish office, pre-baptism courses centralized in Peguera, and coordinated work with Portals and Andratx. “It’s not about closing, but about adapting parish life to each town and bringing in lay people: when I arrive, everything is ready, they’re fully involved,” he says. Fuentes also highlights a resurgence of community life in certain places: lay movements, youth groups that accompany the elderly, and the strong presence of Cáritas.

Teamwork

The shortage of priests also affects catechesis. “When we have to schedule meetings with families and the priest, it’s like doing acrobatics,” says Lourdes Ríos, who, together with Inés Rubbini, is part of the catechesis team at the parish of Our Lady of Hope in Santa Ponça. Their methods are simple and effective: activities and games. “We shouldn’t scare the children, but rather help them discover a God who loves and accepts,” Lourdes points out.

Inés adds the long-term goal: “I want them to be left with the certainty that, if one day they need something, the Church can be a place for them. Many teenagers don’t see it that way,” she says. Both insist on creating “paths of continuity” so that First Communion is not an exit door: children’s choir, parish football teams, a youth group with social work. “There are plenty of ideas, but we need support from families and more pastoral time. Father Carlos is always rushing from one place to another because priests are scarce and everything has to be scheduled to the minute,” they say with concern.

Why are there fewer vocations?

Bausá does not avoid the analysis: “There are internal and external factors.” Among the former, “we haven’t always given good witness: mistakes, inconsistencies, scandals that have hurt credibility.” Among the latter, “secularization and hedonism, which numb the deeper questions.” He also notes an aging clergy and aging congregations. Even so, he insists there is hope. “There is a thirst for God among young people if you speak to them in their language and with authenticity. They’re tired of fake, they need witnesses,” he says. “When we ask students about their biggest fear, 95% say loneliness, and Christianity has an answer to that,” he adds.

The crisis is not only numerical but also one of identity. That is why Bausá’s wish for the island is not merely to fill pews. “What excites me more is seeing Christians rooted in Christ, unafraid to show who they are and to give a gentle witness,” he emphasizes. Fuentes, meanwhile, calls for realism and creativity so that no community is left behind. And the catechists want more open doors. “You can’t leave a church unlocked because of vandalism or misuse. But if it isn’t open, it’s hard for it to be a place of encounter,” they conclude.

Everyone agrees on the same point: when the proposal is authentic, there is a response. Opening doors, adapting schedules, centralizing services, teamwork and lay leadership. And a concrete social agenda that makes the public value of the Church visible.

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