I saw it. The Church in the United States has witnessed the defining moment of a generation. There’s no other way to describe it. I had high hopes for the National Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis, but, to put it simply, Our Lord brought me to my knees in Indianapolis.
In the months leading up to the congress, I joined hundreds of other volunteers in planning meetings, beginning to do my part to make this gathering possible. OSV was the first major benefactor, pledging a million dollars to support the congress when it was first announced. It was important for us as an organization.
But it was important for me personally. I’ve spent the last year and a half traveling across the country, supporting the National Eucharistic Revival as a Eucharistic Preacher. I believed in the call for revival from the start. I knew we had to do something. And I fervently hoped this initiative would help.
Like many who served the congress, I had my frustrations. I’m not proud to admit it. I was cross and exasperated with various organizational decisions. It wasn’t a perfect event (no one is claiming that). But I have a bolder, more important observation to share.
The moment the first revival session began in Lucas Oil Stadium, the Lord began to work in my heart in a new way.
I shouted and cheered with joy at the triumphant entry of the perpetual pilgrims. These were the young people who, for 60 days, traveled to testify to the Real Presence and bring revival to towns and cities across the country. They had done something marvelous for Jesus.
I had the pleasure of getting to know many of them throughout their pilgrimage, catching up with them in unlikely and marvelous situations. I admire them (and the priests who accompanied them). And I’m deeply grateful for their witness.
But this moment – which I had eagerly awaited – wasn’t the moment that rent my heart.
In a dark stadium, a spotlight shone bright, illuminating the immense monstrance that bore a dinner-plate-sized host. The same God who created heaven and earth, the God who declared “Let there be light,” was present. It was when the Blessed Sacrament entered Lucas Oil Stadium.
That was the moment the Lord began a transformation, a moment he began something within me. He was at work among us. Drawing us near. And – to my delight – he did something for me.
It wasn’t that I doubted what Jesus taught about the Eucharist. But I had hedged my interior bets about how he would be at work at the congress. I was withholding, not fully surrendering. I had been worried, anxious and critical. I had been under the impression that everything I had been working for was for someone else, for the experience of all the congress attendees. But Jesus took all that from me when he arrived. And he showed up for me.
He was there. Present body, blood, soul and divinity. I heard him speak to me. And finally, I could surrender all of this work to him.
My experience at the congress was electrifying. And I wasn’t alone. Tens of thousands joined me in silent prayer on our knees in an NFL stadium. Tens of thousands will go forth from Indianapolis, sharing what God has done for us. Each of us. Personally.
The 10th National Eucharistic Congress wasn’t an event. It wasn’t a celebration or festival. It was the defining encounter of a generation. It was the decisive moment when Jesus began to do something transformational for his Church. It was a work fashioned in the hearts of everyone present who was open to him. In a word, it was a revival.
Father Patrick Briscoe, OP, is editor of Our Sunday Visitor. Follow him on X @PatrickMaryOP.
Read more about the National Eucharistic Congress.