Holy chaos.
This is the American Catholic Church, centered in the Eucharist.
“Go home and make a mess,” Pope Francis said at the end of World Youth Day in Brazil in 2013.
“We’re not here to start a program; we’re here to start a fire,” Bishop Cozzens said yesterday, the first full day of the National Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis. Bishop Cozzens is the chairman of the congress.
Loud, fun, joyful, prayerful, colorful. Nuns in blue and brown, priests in white and black. Youth groups with matching bandanas. An Ohio parish has red shirts with a monstrance substituted for the ‘i’ in “Ohio.”
This morning, I attended Archbishop Timothy Broglio’s Mass for 5,000 young people, along with 20 bishops and 200 priests. We processed into the auditorium amid a praise band with a heavy bass line and an angelic lead vocalist. We bowed before the altar, and then the priests’ section quickly overflowed, so a few of us sat next to a young family. A heroic young dad wrangled his toddler, held the boy, rocked the boy, whispered to him and held him. I was exhausted watching him. I gave dad a smile and a hearty bro-hug at the sign of peace. That child is us. God the Father holds us, loves us, waits with us, sings to us and carries us. Like that boy, we are a little messy and at times hard to handle. Like our church. As James Joyce said of the church, “Here comes everybody.”
At the end of yesterday’s youth Mass, Bishop Bob Lombardo, C.F.R., invited all of us to pray for vocations. “If you’re considering a calling to be a priest or religious, raise your hand.” Over 100 youth and teens raised their hands. “Now come up to the altar and we’ll bless you.” My heart is moved by their courage and trust.
The heart of this Eucharistic Congress is prayer, centered in the Eucharist. Mass is celebrated here in English, Spanish, Vietnamese, in Eastern rite liturgies and, yes, in Latin. Five thousand young people praying in silence after Communion, and you can hear a pin drop. Or your heart beating. Or one toddler crying out.
People are praying openly, quietly, musically, in blessed order and hurried words. A woman came to our vocation booth to ask if we knew her favorite Jesuit teacher. After a few minutes, she shared some of her personal struggles and asked if we could pray with her. Through sobs, she called upon Christ to heal and strengthen her as a Jesuit friend prayed over her. I’m tearing up as I write this, thinking about her and praying for her again.
Big families bless their pizza lunch sitting in a corner of a conference hall. Mom: “Boys, knock it off. Let’s pray: ‘In the name of the Father…’”
A group of sisters started singing as we waited in line for an event, drawing us all into their song of praise. I heard confessions for an hour today in a big ballroom with 100 other priests, who were all hearing confessions. This is going on for 10 hours each day, with a steady flow of penitents. Teens, kids, older folks, teachers and priests are all going to confession.
A spunky young sister has two light-up pointers like they use at the airport. She is the confession marshall. “Open spot in the back corner. En Español? Sí. Bueno. Two spots on the far side, thank you.”
The day starts with Mass and ends with adoration. It’s loud and fun in between. Meeting friends, talking with people, listening, laughing, praying. I crashed in an empty meeting room yesterday and took a nap on the floor. I told a Jesuit buddy and he said, “Show me that room.” At the Eucharistic Congress, Jesus, present in the Eucharist is literally the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end of each day.
The logo for the Eucharistic Congress, and the three-year revival, is a good one—a host and chalice, with rays shining outward. The Eucharist is the source and summit of this gathering, and of our Catholic faith. The image is more apt that we might expect—those rays go in every direction. Holy chaos. Let’s make a mess and keep this fire burning brighter.
America was at the 10th annual National Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis. Find more essays and reflections here.
Correction (July 19): An earlier version of this essay attributed the phrase "Here comes everybody" to Flannery O'Connor; it is from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake.
