What One Man Shouted — and Why It Might Be True About Eucharistic Devotion| National Catholic Register

PHOTO ESSAY: I’ve seen thousands line the streets, not just for a glimpse, but for adoration — in deserts, cities and mountain valleys. I’ve watched people kneel on concrete, burst into tears, and sing into the night.

LOS ANGELES — “This isn’t a revival, this is a renaissance!” he shouted, as the Eucharistic procession entered the courtyard of the cathedral in downtown Los Angeles.

“Because a revival’s when something’s dead, and this Church certainly ain’t dead!”

I didn’t catch his name. Just his conviction. The videographer standing beside me turned to me, grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and we both laughed.

But the man’s words have haunted me ever since.

Revival or Renaissance?

At first, I shrugged it off. We’ve been using the word revival for years now — the National Eucharistic Revival, the Eucharistic Pilgrimage, all of it. And rightly so. Revival is part of our shared language as Catholics and Christians. It conjures up images of tents, preaching, fire, repentance, of souls roused from sleep and hearts reclaimed from despair.

A revival is something that gets the blood flowing again. It’s urgent. Loud. Breathless. It has its place.

But what if this is something more?

What if what we’re living through right now isn’t just a comeback … but a rebirth?

Renaissance: Not Just a Return, But a Reawakening

The word renaissance means more than revival. It means a flowering. A time not only when something returns, but when it expands — when art is made, truth is sought, beauty flourishes, and the culture itself begins to breathe again.

Think about what renaissance meant for the Church historically — it wasn’t just about recovering the past, but about creating new forms of devotion, inspiring revolutionary architecture, and sparking fresh theological thinking. It was about the Church becoming a patron of beauty and truth in ways that transformed entire civilizations.

In that light, maybe what that man shouted was more than an outburst.

Maybe it was prophetic.

In recent days, I was on the road photographing the St. Katharine Drexel Route of the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage. I’ve seen thousands line the streets, not just for a glimpse, but for adoration — in deserts, cities and mountain valleys. I’ve watched people kneel on concrete, burst into tears, and sing into the night.

In Flagstaff, I watched a young mother lift her toddler toward the Blessed Sacrament, whispering prayers I couldn’t hear but whose urgency I could feel from 20 feet away. Perhaps that child will grow up remembering that moment — not as an event, but as an encounter.

I’ve seen hope come alive. But I’ve also witnessed signs of something deeper than momentary enthusiasm:

• Vocations are growing again. Dioceses like Hartford, Witchita, and Lincoln are welcoming their largest seminarian classes in years. Nationwide, nearly 3,000 men are in formation for the diocesan priesthood.
• Young people are returning to reverence. You can see it in Gen Z — in their hunger for Eucharistic adoration, their love for tradition, and their bold public faith.
• Ash Wednesday and Easter Masses were packed. And something unusual happened this past Lent. Ash Wednesday Masses were standing room only in      parishes across the country — with more than half of U.S. Catholics attending, nearly matching Easter numbers. And that’s on a day that’s not even a holy day of obligation. That’s not routine. That’s a spiritual hunger we haven’t seen in years.
• Adoration is going 24/7 — even in Manhattan. In July 2023, St. Joseph’s in Greenwich Village launched the first perpetual Eucharistic adoration chapel in New York City’s most unlikely neighborhood. “The city that never sleeps needs a chapel that never closes,” one friar told me.

These are the signs of renewal breaking through.

Why It Matters What We Call It

Maybe it’s just a word. But words shape how we see. And this word — renaissance — carries with it a kind of joy and imagination we desperately need. It invites us to not only come home to our faith … but to build something beautiful within it.

I’m not saying we should change the name of the National Eucharistic Revival. It’s doing exactly what it set out to do: Light the match.

But maybe it’s time we acknowledge what’s catching fire.

Maybe that man in the crowd deserves a quiet nod from all of us.

Because the Church in America isn’t just coming back to life.

She’s creating again.