Witnessing divine connection: Lessons and moments from the 10th National Eucharistic Congress

By Melanie Sisinni
07/30/2024

               I started working with the Diocese of Erie in the first year of the National Eucharistic Revival, year one of three meant to renew and reinvigorate a love and understanding of God’s presence in the Eucharist. Part of this “revival” was the first planned National Eucharistic Congress (NEC) in 83 years. For the entirety of my time working with the diocese, we had been planning and discussing the importance of being at this event. Still, it wasn’t until the NEC was right on the horizon that I realized the scope of how massive this congress would be for the modern church.

               The Office of Communications had planned to send two people to cover the event, and when I found out I was due to have a fourth baby in September, we started taking measures to ensure I could travel safely. I’ve always been an “I can do it” type of person, rarely saying no to things, and both the Director of Communications and my husband knew I was going on this trip no matter what.

               When we arrived in Indianapolis, Indiana, for the convention, we went right to registration. The line of Catholics waiting to get in wrapped around, around, and around. My husband and I related the line to Disney World. Whenever you turned a corner thinking you were at the front of the line, the serpentine repeated a few more times. Two hours in line gives you a lot of time for people-watching. There were so many brave families traveling with young children. When the end of the line was finally in sight, I saw a family traveling with six school-age children, and the mother was pregnant with her seventh child. She and I exchanged knowing looks of sympathy with each other in line, mine for her having to keep six kids entertained and happy for hours in line, hers for my sheer existence at this stage of pregnancy.

               The revival session that night at Lucas Oil Stadium was profound. Throughout the five-day experience, more than 60,000 faithful attended at least one day of the congress, so you can imagine what that looked like in the stadium. People were excited and shouting as representatives from each National Eucharistic Pilgrimage route brought in portraits of the saints representing their journeys, surrounding an altar in the middle of the stadium where Eucharistic Adoration would occur later that night. Have you ever been to a stadium filled to the brim with people yet almost entirely silent? I have. It was astounding to have that adoration experience and to take in the experiences of others.

               One night, during Eucharistic Adoration, we were seated next to a father attending with his teenage children. He wanted to leave during Adoration to avoid the inevitable mass exodus afterward. He told his oldest son it was time to go, to which the son replied, “No,” while pointing at the monstrance. The father repeatedly told his son it was time to go and asked him not to make a scene (irony at its finest), while the son said, “I’m not leaving during Eucharistic Adoration. Jesus is here.”

               Though I’m not usually one to celebrate parental defiance since it drives me insane in my household, I was very impressed with this young boy for having the courage to tell his father no and to defend the faith, as we were repeatedly called to do during the congress. Eventually, he won the battle, and his grumpy father reluctantly stayed until Adoration was complete.

               Throughout the weekend, I made it my mission to attend youth and family sessions and scope out as many family-friendly activities as possible. I didn’t dare to bring my children, but so many parents did and did it well. In our daily lives, it can be easy to feel isolated as a young Catholic family, especially when you have more than one or two children. My sentiments have been echoed when speaking to my friends with multiple kids. Going to Mass can be difficult when you feel like your child dropping a plastic car or a crayon is as loud as a high school marching band playing John Philip Sousa. To see so many families present at the breakout sessions, seemingly “going with the flow,” entering and exiting as necessary to give themselves and their children a break was so encouraging.

               The youth sessions had their own energy. I never thought I would see a group of teenagers rush the stage for a Coldplay cover (“A Sky Full of Stars,” by the way), but there we were. The way that teens involved with religion are portrayed on television and in movies, it would have been easy to walk into those sessions thinking the kids would all be anti-social and awkward, which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. They were all excited to be there and probably felt encouraged to be in a room with people their age who share similar experiences. At one point, there was a lively scavenger hunt icebreaker where two teams named after young saints went against each other to earn the most points, ultimately ending with two retirement-age youth ministers attempting a popular dance move on stage in front of the entire audience. I saw young kids engaging with their faith, connecting, and making memories that will last for a lifetime.

               Anyone who went to the National Eucharistic Congress will tell you that one of the most unique aspects of the event was how everyone went out of their way to connect. I experienced this first-hand throughout the weekend. Multiple men and women came up to me and asked me questions about the baby, and several priests openly blessed my enormous stomach as I passed them, as though it was a common occurrence. While standing in lines or seated and waiting for sessions, conversations were struck up between strangers who had never met before and who perhaps would never meet again. People were quick to talk to the guest speakers and performers after sessions. There was a deep sense of community unlike anything I had ever seen.

               I made my way to confession on the last full day of the congress, stupidly thinking if I went during Mass, the lines would be shorter. They were not. Again, much like at Disney World, the line serpentined around and around. It’s a big job to hear thousands and thousands of confessions, and most people present at the NEC made it part of their mission to participate in the sacrament to fully receive the grace of a plenary indulgence. 

               I did my best to wait in line, but in the end, it wasn’t my impatience that killed me but my own body. I had been pushing myself all week to do more and see more, but I wasn’t paying attention to the rest my body desperately needed. I felt myself starting to sweat. Breathing became more difficult, and my heart rate increased as I stood in line. Several people offered me a chair, but I politely declined, as my “I can do it” attitude told me to keep going. Finally, I gave in. I asked the girl behind me if she would mind if I sat on the floor and waited until she got closer to the front to get back up. Of course, she said that was fine. Again, people offered me chairs, and I was too proud to say yes, so I sat on the floor until my heart rate eventually climbed, and I started to cry.
             
               Embarrassed, I quickly left the room and ran to the bathroom. Fortunately, most people were at Mass at this time, so the usual sardine-like atmosphere of a packed house was absent. There was only one woman in the stall, who came out to a hysterical me. She asked what was wrong, and I told her I was overwhelmed. My husband was at Mass, and I was alone and anxious and, again, massively pregnant. A second woman entered the room, and they both offered to pray with me and gave me hugs of encouragement. I ask you, where else in your life do you feel this seen or loved?

               When I calmed down, I returned to the confession area and sat on the floor. This time, however, I took all the help offered through tears. Multiple people offered to let me in front of them, and I accepted until I was at the front of the line. A kind, religious sister offered me a litany pamphlet and reminded me that Jesus loved me, making me cry more. If the priest acting as my confessor thought I was a crazy person, he didn’t show it. He kindly offered me tissues.

               After confession, I went to where I knew my husband was attending Mass to wait for him so he could walk me back to the hotel for some much-needed rest. A man from the confession line happened to be passing by, and he sat down next to me and asked if I was okay. I told him I would be fine and was waiting for my husband, but he sat with me to comfort me anyway.

               This day was the day that I truly felt the presence of God at the National Eucharistic Congress. The week was about understanding Jesus’s sacrifice by making himself vulnerable and human to help us have eternal life in heaven. I needed to learn that allowing ourselves to be vulnerable and human is okay, too. As parents, as young adults, as Catholics, and frankly, just as people, there is an enormous amount of pressure to be perfect. It took five days at the NEC to witness human interactions that I might not have seen otherwise to realize that we don’t have to be “on it” one hundred percent of the time.

               The next NEC is planned for 2033, the Year of Redemption. I recommend attending, no matter what stage of life you are in. Bring your children. Come by yourself. Go with a group. I can honestly say it’s worth it to feel the presence of God’s love on Earth.
              

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