There is a hidden side to priesthood not often discussed. We get calls about former seminary classmates who have decided to leave active ministry. We worry about decisions our provincials (religious superiors) and bishops will make, particularly when it comes to assignments. We try to juggle the demands of parish administration and building maintenance. And then there’s the work of preaching: pouring our hearts and minds out to share the Gospel with our people. We priests try our best, but when we can be vulnerable, and brutally honest, we have to admit that we do it all imperfectly. And a perpetual news cycle eager to exploit our flaws and tell the story of our sins amplifies that anxiety.
I don’t mean to sound overly unpleasant. I love being a priest and can’t imagine my life without the gift of the priesthood. God has been so overwhelmingly good to me, time and again bringing graces I don’t expect or imagine. And in Indianapolis, Jesus again took my life by storm. I was not ready for the extraordinary mercy Jesus would pour into my heart.
Catholics turned out for the National Eucharistic Congress. I was overjoyed to see packed breakout sessions as our people showed up for formation. They attended a breadth of liturgies, including participating in a Syro-Malabar Holy Qurbana and two Byzantine divine liturgies. They waited in long lines to pray before the relics of the patron saints of the Congress and view an exhibit on the Shroud of Turin.
The devotion of our people on display was deeply moving. They stayed late into the evening participating in Eucharistic adoration in Lucas Oil Stadium. They dropped to their knees in hallways as the Blessed Sacrament was transferred in between sessions. They were reverent and patient and joyful.
And amid all those events, I’ll remember until my dying day the Eucharistic procession through Indianapolis. More than 60,000 people turned out to participate. Our people lined the route jubilantly cheering and waving and singing! The bells of St. John the Evangelist pealed. Crowds filled Monument Circle and the American Legion Mall. Priests and bishops wept openly. Tears flooded my own eyes as I witnessed a love for Jesus and the Church he founded, unlike anything I’d ever seen.
The shadows that lurk in my priestly heart, in many priestly hearts, were banished. Light and life flooded the crowds assembled at the Master’s feet. In the historic benediction delivered from the top steps of the Indiana War Memorial, I knew that Christ was present. I was convicted anew that he was guiding his beloved bride, the Church. I saw him there and heard him promise (again) that he would never abandon his people. He will always be with us.
The fate of the Church doesn’t rest with us. It never did. Jesus promised to renew us. And he was doing it before my very eyes.
As silence fell over the crowd, a soulful voice cried out, “Viva Cristo Rey!” Tens of thousands of the faithful bellowed back in reply, “Viva!” The exuberant cry echoed through the streets of Indianapolis, finding a home in every heart that heard it ring. Even mine.
Header photo by Devin Rosa
