For months, I prayed: “Please dear God, may I be chosen as a volunteer for les Jeux Olympiques de Paris 2024. Thank you. Amen.” I had submitted my online application, which included a personality test that left me laughing out loud. The results? I was pegged as a natural diplomat or equipment room manager—who knew?
Funny enough, it sounded like a perfect fit. I had just retired from a 35-year government career, navigating politicians and managing offices. (There’s much I can say about the parallel, but that’s for another day.) I waited anxiously to hear back, knowing the odds were against me—with over 300,000 applicants vying for just 45,000 spots.
While awaiting word on my volunteer application, I stumbled upon the “Holy Games: l’Évangile c’est sport!” initiative, launched by the Archdiocese of Paris and the Catholic Bishops’ Conference in France. This initiative translates to “The Gospel is sport” or “Sport is Gospel,” making explicit the connection between faith and sport. The church’s promotional materials described it as an effort to “seal an alliance between the church and sport, between holiness and play, in the service of the individual, their dignity, and the common good.”
As the Bible emphasizes, we are body and soul, and there’s a strong connection between holiness and physical fitness. A flier for the Holy Games announced, “Let’s launch body and soul into the adventure of games: Holy Games is the intimate presence of the Catholic Church in sports events.”
The modern Olympics were, in fact, founded by two faithful Catholics, Baron Pierre de Coubertin and Henri Didon, O.P., a Dominican priest. Pope St. John Paul II, a skilled athlete himself, proclaimed in a homily in 2000 that “sport is of great importance today because it can encourage among young people the affirmation of important values such as loyalty, perseverance, friendship, sharing, solidarity.” Volunteers were being sought for these games, too. I could do both—but that wasn’t in God’s plan for me.
When I learned I had not been selected as an Olympics volunteer, I felt disappointed, but soon discovered a new sense of purpose: serving at the Holy Games. I was scheduled to volunteer at the church of Notre-Dame des Victoires, with a few days at l’eglise de la Madeleine, home to the newly inaugurated “Our Lady of the Athletes” chapel.
God’s plan is always better than mine
Grounded in the four pillars of spirituality, education, solidarity and mission, the Holy Games presented a unique blend of faith and athleticism. The initiative included opening and closing Masses, the consecration of chapels for Olympic athletes and a 10K race that fused faith and fitness. It provided essential equipment for athletes, sponsored the refugee team and purchased tickets for vulnerable populations to attend the events. Education played a central role in the Holy Games, which featured inspiring video profiles of “holy athletes” and tailored programs designed to motivate both young people and adults.
I landed in Paris in time to attend the athlete’s blessing vigil Mass at la Basilique Cathédrale St. Denis, held on the eve of the opening ceremony.
The experience was pure joy. Children performed various athletic moves as they processed down the aisle to the front of the church, where athletes gathered to receive a blessing. The magnificent choir lifted our spirits even higher. And on the back of the program was a link to a list of athletes we could pray for. I selected five and added a prayer for no more rain—I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. The sun shone brightly thereafter.
At the Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre, a vigil of prayer and testimonies took place, featuring an athlete-priest and others who shared powerful stories about the impact of sports on their lives. The program included adoration, reconciliation and a unique athlete’s chapel where candles and prayers for peace could be lit and written. The basilica offered international Masses in at least five languages and introduced a special rosary for the games, with beads in the colors of the Olympic rings. A five-step tour of the basilica allowed visitors to collect stamps on a passport, with a medal of the Sacred Heart of Jesus awarded upon completing all five steps.
Another highlight was the “Marathon of Churches,” a unique course connecting seven Parisian churches, each dedicated to one of the seven virtues. I chose the charity route, a 5K journey linking the iconic Basilica of Sacré-Cœur, Saint-Eustache and Saint-Roch. As I completed the route, I gained insight into these historic landmarks and earned a ribbon of completion. But the surprise didn’t end there! Exiting Saint-Roch, where a wedding had just concluded, I was unexpectedly showered with rose petals by the wedding guests, who mistook me for part of the celebration. The bride and groom were posing for photos as I emerged, and the guests, thinking it was time to toss the petals, enthusiastically showered me instead. We all shared a joyful laugh, and there were still plenty of petals left for the newlyweds.
These experiences, organized by individual churches around the city, were all part of a larger campaign, Enflammons les Cœurs (Let’s Ignite Hearts)—and that is exactly what happened.
God always knows what we need
At Notre-Dame des Victoires, I “worked” most days, wearing my yellow Holy Games T-shirt and khakis. My French is not great, but by God’s grace, I managed to find the right words or understand enough to help tourists who didn’t speak English to find the chapel and guide a pilgrim seeking spiritual direction. As the days went by, my confidence grew, and I spoke more fluently, even if it meant occasionally tossing out made-up words. On my last day, I even said “Oui” to a request to pray a decade of the joyful mysteries in French—out loud, in front of others. Victory through our beloved Mother!
Part of my bienvenue duties involved enforcing the church’s dress code: no sleeveless tops or short shorts were allowed, and entry required appropriate coverage. The basilica provided shawls for visitors, which I handed out frequently. Only once did I face a challenge when I approached a woman with a wrap. She scolded me in rapid-fire French, and I gathered that she thought I was unreasonable given the heat (which was quite intense). She refused the shawl, and I chose to smile and let it go as she entered rather uncovered. I was reassured that I wouldn’t be fired for it.
I also contributed by distributing copies of a New Testament book, specially printed in both French and English for the Holy Games. This book, featuring insights from Olympic athletes on how their faith guided them to achieve great success, felt like handing out gold medals. As the cover proclaimed, “More Precious Than Gold.” Indeed.
More precious than gold
Day in and day out, people of all colors, genders, ages, shapes, sizes, cultures and religions—some seemingly healthy, others visibly infirm—entered and exited Notre-Dame des Victoires. Each found peace and a sense of belonging that the world outside the ancient church portals often fails to deliver. I was moved by a deeply beautiful side of humanity. Witnessing individuals attending Mass, praying the rosary, requesting Mass intentions, lighting votive candles (special Holy Games votive candles in various fluorescent colors, each imprinted with psalm verses) and stopping before the chapels of certain saints to pour out their hearts in search of consolation or a miracle was profoundly touching. This included many official Olympic volunteers and even some Olympians. This church became a place where burdens could be surrendered, knowing that you are never truly alone.
The walls of Notre-Dame des Victoires are adorned with over 37,000 ex-votos, many dating back to the 1800s, each representing answered prayers. Among these were medals and military objects offered by soldiers who attributed wartime graces to Our Lady of Victories. Each evening, athletes could bring their medals to the church for a blessing.
Notre-Dame des Victoires captivates with its stunning design and decoration, but it also beckons you to embrace an unseen yet palpable presence. The profound effect of the material and spiritual, the invisible and visible, empowers all who experience it to carry that beauty, light, peace and joy out into the world for others. That’s what it did for me as I walked to le métro when my shift ended.
I attended only one official Olympic event, aside from the opening ceremony: beach volleyball. The matches were held in front of the Eiffel Tower, and the experience was fantastic on every level. I found a sense of the holy there just as I had in the churches. Faith and sport were not confined to the Holy Games; they were visible outside them as well.
While much has been written about the controversial “Last Supper” scene at the opening ceremony—and I was among those uncomfortable with it—my overwhelming experience of attending the opening ceremony was one of profound holiness. As the rain poured down, we weathered the downpour by sharing ponchos, umbrellas and laughs and wondering about our sanity, but we persevered. I can attest to the genuine unity, respect, compassion and peace that permeated among those in the stands.
There was a sacred quality in the games themselves, too. When a teammate made a mistake or missed a shot, their partner would quickly offer a high-five or a hug. Applause filled the stadium for every point scored, regardless of the team, with no heckling or booing—just good sportsmanship both on the court and in the stands. As I looked around, I saw the whole world represented: flags from many countries waving, hands clapping and faces smiling. I felt renewed hope and sensed that I wasn’t alone. The Catholic Church was onto something by seizing the opportunity to show how the principles of faith and sport spill over into living life with joy and peace. May we all have that. More precious than any gold medal.
As an added blessing, I felt a newfound urge to improve my physical health—to become stronger and push myself beyond a brisk walk. The Holy Games’ mission of faith in sport, combined with the commitment to sport with faith that many Olympians have, was empowering. I left Paris with a deeper desire to up the game of my life, drawing closer to Jesus—in body and soul.
