Six months ago, Jesus blessed America in a unique way. For two months, starting in May at Pentecost to the Eucharistic Congress in July, Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament was carried over 6,500 miles from four corners of the country — California, Minnesota, Connecticut and Texas — toward Indianapolis. As pilgrims processed with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament in the shape of a cross over the United States, I witnessed the faithful being inspired by his eucharistic presence. And along the way, hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, of souls, encountered him and had the opportunity to be transformed.
As one of the perpetual pilgrims who traveled with him for the entire two months, I got to experience the adventure of a lifetime. Traveling on the Marian Route from Bemidji, Minn., to Indianapolis, entering into the lives of so many parishes and families, spending time as a nomad for Christ with the seven best fellow pilgrims one can hope for and never knowing where we would sleep at night or from which gracious soul we would receive lunch again, would all have been more than enough to make this a unique experience.
But then there was also Jesus, who had chosen us, for inexplicable reasons, to follow him in this especially intimate way, regularly spending eight to 10 hours a day in eucharistic adoration. It will take years, or probably our entire lives, to reflect on this adventure with him. Yet, one of the greatest takeaways from this journey is this: that Jesus is truly and fully present in the Eucharist.
Now, you may ask, isn’t this obvious? If you had asked me before the pilgrimage whether I believe that the church’s teaching on the Real Presence was correct, I would have certainly said yes. This bold, sometimes difficult, yet beautiful teaching of our Catholic faith was enough for all 30 perpetual pilgrims to go on the two-month journey in the first place. But I must wonder now, two months later: Did I really get it? Do I get it now?
Certainly, we recognize Jesus “became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14), especially as long as it is in the past tense, where Jesus lived in the Middle East 2 millennia ago and now sits somewhere in heaven.
Yet, one of the great realizations of the pilgrimage is that when Jesus said, “I am with you always” (Mt 28:20), he actually meant it. That in the Eucharist, he is truly Emmanuel today, God-with-us — not 2,000 years ago, but now. And that we can meet him in the Eucharist now, just like back then. It cannot be surprising, then, that Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, when he is being carried around the streets of America, does the same things as he did in the Gospels.
Along the way across this continent, Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament was carried through country roads, small towns and big cities. He was present on boats across lakes and stormy waters. He healed those suffering physically and mentally, and he invited those searching for purpose and meaning into his compassionate and eternal embrace.
As a perpetual pilgrim, it was impossible not to be reminded of the feeding of the 5,000 when 7,000 processed through the Twin Cities — or 50,000 in Indianapolis — seeking “the words of eternal life” (Jn 6:68). It was impossible not to be reminded of his healing power when those suffering approached him and were freed from their ailments. It was impossible not to be reminded of his invitation to “Come, follow me” (Mt 4:19), as another young man or woman encountered him in a completely new way and promised to give up everything for him.
The pilgrimage went through towns long forgotten by the political and economic elite, and to cities rampant with homelessness and drug addiction where the need for Jesus could not be greater. Both youth and elderly encountered him as he was present to them in a new way, processing through their city. The fact that the same Jesus who had started in Bemidji, San Francisco, Brownsville and New Haven had come to their parish because he wanted to be with them was often enough to open hearts. And thus, how many Catholics were on this pilgrimage who had gone to Mass every Sunday for six or seven decades, and suddenly met him personally, in his Eucharistic love, for the first time!
How much more of a revival is the Eucharistic Revival in light of these experiences! The revival is not merely a revival of a statistic. It can’t merely be a revival to increase the number of people who believe, if they are asked in a survey, in the Real Presence. Rather, Jesus wants to revive us — us individually, at whom he gazes with superabundant love, us as a parish, us as a diocese, us as a town and us as a nation.
And that’s what he did this summer: He revived everything that was on his way. He revived the lives of people who are materially wealthy and those who are materially poor and homeless, of people from all corners of the country, of all ethnicities, of all age groups and regardless of which political party or presidential candidate they vote for. He revived the lives of parishes and dioceses, both those strong and those in need of healing. He revived towns and cities and brought about unity in ways that are rarely seen when we attempt to bring about unity in worldly ways. He pulled everyone and everything into his loving embrace, and thus united communities — utterly alienated from one another up to that point — by uniting them to him.
The Eucharist, truly and fully Jesus, has a transforming power that is impossible to overestimate but one that we will always underestimate. Everyone and everything is being revived as we eat from and adore this Heavenly Bread. Jesus, indeed, wants to make all things new (Rv 21:5). We will never, in this life, be able to see all the fruits his passionate pursuit for souls has brought in these two months. But having seen so many miracles, small and great, each day, we can turn to him, astonished, and adore him. It becomes clear, then, in a completely new way, that he is truly here now. And that he seeks all of us out, that he thirsts for all of us — just as he did 2,000 years ago.
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